His Surgeon Under The Southern Lights / Reunited In The Snow. Amalie Berlin

       CHAPTER THREE

      SATISFIED THAT ALL the scuba gear and other diving equipment had been scrutinized, confirmed to be in good working order and organized, Zeke moved on to get the new aquarium room built and everything installed that he and the other marine biologists would need for their samples. He’d never had to do this in Antarctica before. Usually, all the science stations had everything set up already, needing only some adjusting and tweaking.

      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