His Surgeon Under The Southern Lights

But Fletcher Station was brand-new, and while starting from scratch would be a lot of work, it gave him a chance to create something better than what someone else had built. He got to work, and hours passed as he carefully set the rock work in place, then got the salt water prepared. Assembled the various hoses, filters and everything else the aquarium needed to support the marine life he’d be bringing here to study. He paused to stretch, pleased to be making good progress on this big job.

“Glad to see you’re halfway done here, so you can’t drag me into doing your work, and mine, too.”

Zeke looked toward the door. Bob Shamansky, who worked for the same Southern California university he did, stood there holding a cardboard box in his arms.

“I’m pretty sure it’s usually the other way around,” Zeke said. “You asking me to bring up who knows what from the seafloor for you to study instead of learning how to dive so you can do it yourself?”

“Why should I learn to dive when I have people like you to do it for me?” Bob grinned as he set the box on one of the long tables lining the outer wall. “Besides, you don’t fool me. Diving is your favorite part of the job.”

“One of my favorites, I admit. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’ll stay in the lab and you macho types can go dive into dark ice-cold water—thanks, anyway.”

“Hey, I read about your latest breakthrough with a medicine you created through halogens in seawater. Treats neurological disorders, doesn’t it? Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Happy about it. Took me about five years from creation through the clinical trials to finally get it approved. Your samples helped make it happen, so congrats to you, too.”

Another reminder of why the work they all did here was so important, and Zeke’s fatigue slipped away as he turned back to the aquarium tasks. “What’s on your list of things for me to collect this time?”

“I’ll tell you about it after we get set up. This study is something totally new, and I’m pretty pumped about it.”

“Which I know means you’re giving me some tough jobs.” Zeke grinned. “You need help carrying anything in?”

“I’ve got a crew guy giving me a hand down in the storage hangar, then he’s going to help bring it here after the Ski-Doo training. Which I think I saw is in about an hour. Want to race?”

“We’d get in trouble with the station head for being a bad influence on the newbies.”

“Well, dang it. Since we’ll be at twenty-four hours of daylight in no time we won’t be able to race in the dark, so he can’t see us. Risking falling in a crevasse is such a thrill.”

“Says the man who won’t even go diving. You’re all talk, Shamansky.”

“True. I’m about as risk averse as they come.” He clapped Zeke on the back. “Going to grab my cart and bring it up. See you at the training.”

“You’ll be easy to spot, if you still wear that blue top hat over a balaclava.”

“I traded it in for an orange one this year. And something else, but you’ll have to come to the practice to find out what it is.”

Zeke shook his head and chuckled as Bob left the room, turning back to his work. Digging in the plastic containers he’d brought up here, he realized he didn’t have some of the tubing and filters he needed. A lot of his gear was still in the storage hangar, but several of the boxes were crammed beneath his bed.

He glanced at his watch. Since his cabin was about halfway between here and where they’d be conducting the Ski-Doo practice, he might as well see if what he needed was there to save time on his way back. He made his way through a covered, aboveground bridge that connected this building to Pod B where he’d be bunking. He moved down a hallway past rows of doors until he found his small cabin. With one single bed, a small table he used as a desk and built-in closet for clothes, it was comfortable enough. Good thing, since he’d be calling this place home for the next six months.

Home. He tried not to think about the home where he’d grown up. That it didn’t exist anymore, and neither did his parents. Or the other two people he’d loved and who’d raised him after his parents died. Home was San Diego now, or at least as much of a home as he ever wanted to have again.

But there was no point in going over all that again. He’d learned what he’d had to about himself from that horrible experience, and would never forget.

He rolled up the shade covering the small window so he could look out over the ice fields beyond. In the summer months of endless sun, the light-blocking shades were essential to a good night’s sleep, which he had trouble achieving even when it was dark. The shades took his mind back to Jordan Flynn and her eye mask, and he had to smile, thinking about her spunk and her shiny hair and deep blue eyes the color of the Pacific.

He turned and grabbed the things he needed from one of the boxes, put on the standard-issue red snowsuit the station had given everyone, then headed for the Ski-Doo practice. Pointless that it was, he couldn’t seem to help the sudden spring in his step, knowing he’d see Jordan there.

Jordan stood near the big snow machines, deciding they looked a lot like motorcycles, and if that was the case, she’d be okay riding one. Living in so many unusual situations and places, she was probably more experienced driving all kinds of vehicles than most people, and hopefully this wouldn’t be anything particularly new or different.

With her peripheral vision, she noted a tall form approaching. Despite wearing the same red snowsuit as everyone else out there, she knew without even looking that it was Ezekiel Edwards, and frowned at the way her heart beat a little faster. Couldn’t help feeling that, when his gaze met hers, a small smile on his lips, it all somehow seemed to warm the freezing air.

“Ready for the Ski-Doo instruction?” he asked. “Have you ridden one before?”

“Not exactly. Motorcycles and scooters and such, yes. I told you my life experiences have been mostly in hot places, except for England. I’m guessing they’re a lot like a Jet Ski?”

“Except without waves to hit and maneuver over. Here, you just have to make sure you don’t drive over a crevasse and disappear deep inside, or get too close to the edge of an ice shelf and have it crack off so you end up in frigid water. Experiencing that hypothermia and death you talked about.”

“You’re making that up.”

“Why do you think they have practice? There’s a lot involved in knowing the safest ways to get around the area, especially if you’re going out in the field.”

“Well, that makes me glad they’re doing this, to train newbies like me.”

“I’d offer you help, but I know how you react to that. Don’t want you annoyed with me again.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile widened. “Good luck and have fun.”

She watched him move toward one of the Ski-Doos, and found herself still watching him as he slung one long leg over the saddle, got settled, then let it roar. She shook herself from the trance he seemed to send her into every darned time she was around him. When she was instructed to mount the machine and drive, she was more than glad to have something else to focus on besides how handsome and appealing the man was.

Relieved that she managed to get the machine started without any problems, she set out across the snow. Motor scooters and cycles were always fun, and riding the Ski-Doo was even better. Cold air tingling her face as she zoomed across the white world in front of her, maneuvering around the orange cones, had her deciding she’d definitely use this as transportation into the field whenever possible.

She brought hers to a stop to give someone else their turn to learn how to drive it, and her attention immediately slid to Zeke as he went through the obstacle course.

His obvious confidence as he operated the machine showed he was an expert driver, which wasn’t a surprise since he said he’d been to Antarctica thirteen times. An incredible number since the man couldn’t be more than thirty-five or so. He must have taken these trips sometimes twice in one year, unless he’d started doing this as an undergrad, and even then, it was impressive.

He pulled up next to her, sending that appealing smile her way. “Ready for the next lesson?”

“Yes. This is really fun.”

“Next part is less fun, and a lot trickier, but essential to know when you’re away from the base.”

Zeke’s gaze moved past her, and when he started laughing, she turned to see a man wearing an orange top hat that looked like something out of Alice in Wonderland, and a scarf with polar bears all over it wrapped around his neck.

“Good look for you, Bob!” Zeke called. “Though you know some of the newbies are going to expect to see polar bears here now.”

The man responded with a laugh and a thumbs-up before Zeke turned back to Jordan with a grin. “Bob Shamansky. Works for the same university I do.”

“That hat would be a good look on you, too,” she said. In truth, she found that impossible to picture, since Zeke Edwards simply oozed masculine sex appeal and sophistication. “But everyone who comes down here to work has to know polar bears only live around the north pole.”

“You’d be surprised.” He dismounted the machine and picked up a nearby pair of skis, leaning them against the snow machine. “Bob’s a chemical biologist who creates new medicines—you might be interested in talking to him about some of them, Dr. Flynn.”

“Really? I know marine life here can be used to create them. That’s so interesting.”

“It is. Now for the tricky part of the lesson.” He pulled some rope from one of the storage boxes on the side of the Ski-Doo and handed them to Chip Chambers, the station head who’d been instructing everyone, as the crew all crowded around.

“Okay, everyone,” Chip said. “It’s important to know that crevasses are everywhere out in the field. Those of us who’ve been here a lot learn to look for signs of them, but when they’re covered with blowing snow it’s a lot trickier.”

“Then how do you know if they’re there?” one man asked.

“You can’t always know. Which is why we try to have those less experienced travel into the field with someone who’s done it a lot of times, and why we have strategies for when things go wrong.” Chip held up the two ropes and began to tie them to the machine. “We attach these to the back, like so, set the throttle to a low speed and hold on as it travels, skiing behind it. If the machine heads into a crevasse, you have to release the ropes and just let it go.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” another crew member said.

“I’ll demonstrate.” Chip sat sideways on the snowmobile, put the skis on, then to Jordan’s surprise, he actually got the machine moving with the ropes trailing behind in the snow. “There’s a kill switch right here. If you fall while you’re skiing behind it, hit the switch to stop the machine. Once it’s moving, stand up and pick up the ropes, like so, then let the skis take you until you’re trailing along behind it.”

As Jordan and the others watched him stand and let the moving snow machine and attached ropes tug him along on the skis until he was slowly pulled forward, she had a feeling he made it look easy. One of the young men—a guy who’d told her he worked in the kitchen—volunteered to try it, and she was glad, because she didn’t want to be the first one and possibly end up on her face.

“Okay,” Chip said. “Skis on, throttle going, stand to pick up the ropes, then move to ski behind it. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Doing exactly as he’d been shown, it looked like it was going to be an easy ride. Until he pushed the throttle a little too fast, which made him hurry and stumble trying to grab the ropes. Jordan gasped when he got tangled up and went down onto the hard ice, shrieking in obvious pain as he was dragged a short distance before he let go.

“Hell,” Zeke said, sprinting after the machine as it kept on going. Jordan and the station head ran to see how the man might have hurt himself.

She knelt down beside the guy, who was clutching his upper arm and rolling back and forth on the snow. “Tell me what hurts,” she said.

“My arm. Shoulder. Damn it, I think it’s broken.”

“Maybe not. We’ll see. But we need to go inside. It’s too cold out here to take off your snowsuit and everything. What’s your name?”

“Pete. Pete Sanders.”

“Think you can walk, Pete?”

“I... Yeah.”

“Damn it. I’m sorry this happened,” Chip said. “But Dr. Flynn will take good care of you, I know.”

Two people who’d been participating in the snowmobile practice came over to assist as Jordan and Chip carefully helped the man to his feet. As they moved toward the station, Zeke jogged up next to them, barely out of breath.

“Looks like you’re doing okay. Hang in there. I’ll take over for you, Chip.”

“Thanks. I’ll check on you as soon as I’m done here, Pete.”

Chip moved away and Zeke held Pete steady as his dark eyes moved to meet Jordan’s. “What did he hurt?”

“About to find out. Arm or shoulder, based on what he said.”

“Are we taking him to the clinic? Is it ready?”

“Is that a real question, Mr. Field Medic?” She smiled. “It’s not fully pulled together yet but ready to see patients. But you don’t need to come.”

“Might as well see if I can help, since you’re alone there until the next boat arrives.”

“Appreciate it.” And she did. Much as she could handle whatever was going on alone if she had to, if something was broken or dislocated, having someone there to assist would be a big help, especially without a nurse.

“That was a pretty exciting maneuver there, Pete. Wish I’d gotten it on video,” Zeke said as he kept a steadying hand behind Pete’s back.

The man managed a weak laugh. “Yeah. I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

“Being famous for crashing during the snowmobile practice is better than nobody knowing who you are, right? A good way to introduce yourself to the women at the base, who’ll all feel sorry for you and ask how you’re feeling.”

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