The helicopter blades chop through Arctic air as Outpost Polaris comes into view through the cockpit window.
You press your gloved hand against the cold glass, your breath fogging it instantly. Below, the ice shelf stretches in every direction—a vast white void broken only by the dark cluster of modular buildings that make up the research station. The midnight sun hangs perpetually on the horizon, casting everything in an eerie orange glow that makes the landscape look alien, hostile.
"There," Marcus Webb's voice crackles through your headset. The ex-SAS operative sits across from you, his weathered face betraying no emotion as he points. "Landing zone. Still marked."
Emergency flares create pools of red light around the designated helicopter pad. They've been burning for weeks, you realize. Someone set them out and never came back to turn them off.
The pilot's voice cuts through: "Visual confirmation—station appears intact. No personnel visible. I'm putting us down, but I'm not staying longer than it takes to unload. This place gives me the creeps."
Beside you, Dr. Nora Okafor leans forward, her dark eyes scanning the station hungrily. "The drilling rig is still operational," she says, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. "You can see the bore hole platform from here."
"Da," Sergei Volkov rumbles from the back. The grizzled Russian engineer hasn't stopped frowning since you left Longyearbyen. "Everything looks normal. Too normal. No people, but everything working." He shakes his head. "Wrong. All wrong."
The helicopter touches down in a swirl of snow and ice. Through the window, you can see supply crates near the entrance to the main hub—some covered in fresh snow, others torn open, their contents scattered. Dark stains streak the ice between the crates and the station entrance.
The pilot doesn't kill the engine. "Thirty seconds, people. Whatever you need, grab it fast."
You look at your team. Marcus is already checking his equipment—rifle, sidearm, emergency flares, climbing gear. Nora clutches her sample case like it's precious cargo. Sergei has his massive toolkit and a coil of rope over his shoulder.
The station waits. Silent. The emergency lights flicker in the windows of the central dome.
Your training kicks in. First rule of crisis management: assess before you act. But you have seconds to decide.
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HEAD: Grab the emergency medical kit and environmental sensors first. If there's biological contamination, you need to know immediately.
TAIL: Take the portable communications relay and backup power cells. Restoring contact with the outside world is the priority.