Play@YSDC

“I think it’s prudent to radio both the Norwegian and Soviet authorities that our ‘exploration vehicle’ is in the vicinity; we don’t want to cause an international incident,” suggests Tony.

“Then circle around Bear Island and look for a suitable landing spot?”

"That sounds like a good idea," says Liz. "We could land in Tromsø in northern Norway initially to take on supplies and hire a guide, and find out the latest information. It's almost due south of Bear Island."

"Be sketchy about it," Zara suggests. "If they don't already have anything to do with this, we don't want them thinking there's anything interesting to come look at."

After making landfall near Tromsø, a populous city with an airport only a few years old, the investigators make discreet inquiries about visiting Bear Island; no doubt they are thought to be wealthy eccentrics. The most common reply is "No one goes there." It soon becomes clear that the tiny island's only industry, a coal mine, has been closed for about forty years. There is a Norwegian meteorological station at the northernmost tip of the isle. The southern part is mountainous. The whole place is almost always shrouded in mist, even during the summer. There are a large number of small lakes on the flatter central and northern parts of the island. Seabirds are common.

After much discouragement, the party eventually locates a fellow, Jan Hansen by name, who is willing to act as a guide.

"Your balloon not land Bjørnøya," he explains, using the Norwegian name for the island. "Too big, land too rough. Harbor at north. I take, have good boat." He proudly points out a small but sturdy looking craft, obviously designed for icy waters. "Astrid. She strong. Pay good, I guide good. Why you go?"

"Oh I'll pay handsomely," Tony reassures Jan. "Enough money for no questions asked, yes?" He smiles "I pay good, you guide good."

"Thank you," says Liz with a smile. "She's a fine boat."

"Has anyone else asked about going there?" Zara asks.

Shrugging at having his question unanswered, Jan replies "Russians." He spits on the ground. "I not take them. Can go Hell."

Boarding the Astrid, the investigators find an ample supply of kokekaffe to warm the body and akevitt to warm the spirit. The boat moves at a slow and steady pace, moving through the ever-present mist like someone finding the way through an impenetrable fog. The cries of seabirds are often heard over the noise of the engine. Once in a while, the mist clears enough to witness the towering, jagged cliffs that rise from the frigid water. Many of them are so heavily populated with birds that the rock can hardly be seen. The vessel passes by many sea tunnels, into which a small raft might be able to carry a few people to explore their mysteries.

At last, the boat reaches the harbor (if it can be called that, being merely a slightly larger than usual indentation into the stony coast.) As the Astrid's engine grows silent, leaving only the shrieks of countless birds filling the air, Jan secures the boat and steps onto less-than-dry land. The investigators follow. The island's meteorological station is visible a short distance away. There are no trees, only low-lying plant life adding a touch of green.

"Where go, Mister and Ladies? Can hike to pretty lakes, get nice view."

"Perhaps later," says Liz. "I think we should go to the weather station first."

Zara nods in agreement.

“Topping idea!” enthuses Tony.

The meteorological station is a simple but sturdy structure, constructed of wooden planks covered with heavily weathered red paint. A tall radio antenna sticks up from the roof. There are a few small windows of thick glass, covered with frost. The single door is made of tarnished metal, and is dented in several places. Nearby is an aluminum pole bearing several of those humorous signs that people put up in isolated locations, telling you how far it is to various places around the globe. (For example, Waikiki Beach 9363 KM.)

Jan tries the door, which proves to be locked. He then knocks, but there is no answer.

"Not home?"

Frowning, Tony breathes on one of the windows before rubbing it with a gloved hand in an attempt to clear the frost and see through.

"Is there anywhere else they'd be besides here?" Zara asks Jan.

Liz looks around for any tracks in the snow.

jp1885 wrote:
Frowning, Tony breathes on one of the windows before rubbing it with a gloved hand in an attempt to clear the frost and see through.

The place is a shambles. Electronic equipment lies in pieces on the floor, laboratory apparatus is scattered everywhere, books and sheets of paper litter the room. There's a figure seated at a table, upon which sits a large radio transmitter. The person is completely wrapped up in heavy clothing and is facing away from the window, so nothing can be seen of his or her face. The figure does not move in response to further knocking.

SunlessNick wrote:
"Is there anywhere else they'd be besides here?" Zara asks Jan.

"Could go south, to mountains. Study weather."

Mr. Handy wrote:
Liz looks around for any tracks in the snow.

At this time of year -- midsummer -- the island is covered with what might be better called slush than snow. There are areas of bare rock and patches of moss and scurvy grass that alternate with the soft, wet stuff.
Liz is able to determine that somebody left a single set of tracks, heading south. (There is hardly any other way to go, except for a bit to the east and west.) The exact shape of the prints is not evident, given the slushy, wet conditions; they're more like vaguely foot-shaped depressions. About all that can be told, judging from their size, depth, and the distance between them, is that the person who left them behind was large, heavy, and was running with long strides.

"There's someone in there, slumped at a table," says Tony. "We'd better check he's okay. Unless anyone can find a key we'll have to put our shoulders to the door."

Zara circles the building to make sure there's no other door. If there's not, she searches around for anywhere a key might be hidden.