Unlike the men he was meeting, he held a real rank.
Unlike them, he fought by a code and was subject to an oath.
This imbalance made the soldier nervous.
Civilians and civilian agencies made him nervous.
The old orange-red sea king shook in a kind of comforting, reassuring wave.
A common mind would perhaps fear it's coming to pieces.
But to the soldier, it was if the old aircraft had always hummed along, and always would.
The loud interior of the old helicopter was muffled by the antique looking white headset he wore.
He looked down on the landscape below.
It was twilight in the Arctic autumn afternoon. A pale pink broke into deep purple over his head, and faded into an navy, then a starry blackness to his north and east. It looked as if someone had torn half the sky away revealing a naked, bright universe beyond.
Down below was the Taiga. A dense forest of small pines that borders the edge of the vast grassy tundra. The trees were all covered in snow on their sides to the south, and it glowed a soft pinkish purple on them.
What on God's earth did these people want to meet here for?
He was two jump flights and this drop from Churchill.
Precisely in the centre of F.A. Nowhere.
The soldier was made curious.
He did not like being curious, but he was this time.
He has been serving in these capacities on leave for a few years now.
It was always strange, and often somewhere exotic - but here of all places? This assignment?
"Coming up on the marker, Sir"
The pilot crackled through the internal communications.
But there was another sound the soldier recognized. The pilot did not mention it, but there was a klaxon sounding on his panel that signified they were entering controlled or restricted air space.
An installation out here? Never heard of it. The soldier's mind raced to think of anything he had heard. Any rumours?
Nothing.
Damn it!
The craft swung about near a large clearing on the edge of the Taiga.
As it lowered to a hover in the still, freezing air, the snow swirled below.
"You're good to go, sir! Godspeed. We'll be on stand by."
The pilot again.
The soldier grabbed his gear. Zipped up his winter kit, pulling on his neo gloves and mask so that no skin was exposed. Moments later he forced the icy door open, and dropped out into snowy clearing surrounded by the short, last woods in the world.
The old sea king swooshed up and veered away into the black. The purple began to quickly fade.
Night was fast approaching.
The soldier opened his first bag. In it were two beacons.
Two signals.
The first was to be used here and now.
It was a black and metal cylinder with a yellow line.
He slid it open and pressed a small button in the centre.
An amber light began to pulse.
Total silence. The flashing beacon.
The snow. And the stars.
So still.
The soldier looked about for a tree to create a wind shelter.
The weather can change rapidly at the edge of the world.
He was hacking away some lower branches and clearing the snow when he thought he heard movement.
Instinctively, the soldier stopped dead in his tracks.
He could hear it quite clearly now.
Whomever they were, they did not care if he or anyone else could hear them, he thought.
He stated very still and eventually two people in very civilian looking gear walked out of the woodlands into the clearing.
One of the tourists walked out, obviously unaware of the soldier.
He held up his own, identical, beacon.
"Man, he's not here. What happened?" barked the tourist with the beacon.
"He's about, just maybe off course and like homing in or something." replied the plump looking tourist in red.
Who the hell are these clowns!? thought the soldier.
They were in his sites now.
"Raise your hands slowly and make no sudden moves, do you understand me?"
The soldier used his most calm and reassuring tones.
The tourists complied.
The red one with a gasp.
The soldier approached each one, assuring them he just wanted to confirm their identity.
They fumbled about and produced card ID badges.
They checked with the data kit on hand.
So far, so good.
"Sorry about that, Gentlemen. I have pretty specific orders about the explicit need for discretion."
"Oh, that's okay... er officer?" The red one muttered nervously.
"You can call me Lieutenant, if that makes it easier..."
"Well, Lieutenant we had better get into camp before night falls properly. She's dropping down real low tonight." Now the one with the beacon spoke. "I am doctor .... mmm... Smith. This is doctor ---"
"McCoy!" Interjected the fat red suit.
His goggles peered at the other two.
"Oh come on, we know the names are bullshit. What's wrong with McCoy?"
"All right, Bones" snickered the soldier.
"Yeah! Works for me." Bones exhorted.
The soldier followed the two doctors as they made their way back along the trail they had come along.
They did not need to go far.
Soon enough the thin trail they followed fell down into a small valley or depression. Here the trees grew to a slightly higher ten or twelve feet. In the far end of the valley was a sloped concrete and steel door.
The soldier was amazed.
All the way out here?
Doctor Smith, as he was to be known, walked to the right side of the door and moved his hand about.
A small panel opened and inside the Doctor pushed or pulled on something.
The steel doors cranked open; a small layer of ice shattering as they did.
The men entered the doorway to find themselves inside a kind of airlock. A plain metal room between inner and outer doors.
The seals and rivets made the room look old.
The outer door closed and sealed. The temperature began to rise and the doctors took off their kit.
He could see their faces now.
One of them was a fat kid.
The other guy looked like a slightly saner and younger version of Bill Nye.
Both of them had a decent tan.
Who on earth are these people?
What on earth would be buried out here in the middle of fucking nowhere?
Why send me?
The soldier's confusion and curiosity was only compounded when the old steel interior door slid open....
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