Colony by Benjamin Cross (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

globe back up, held it up to his face and studied it. “It’s massive.”

“Biggest country in the world.”

He plonked the globe back down. “How long for?”

“I’ll be back before you start school again in October.”

Jamie flopped back in his chair. “October’s ages away.”

“It’ll come around sooner than you think.”

“But it’s ages and I never see you anyway.”

Out of reflex, Callum threw another glance at the comms assistant, but he had retreated back into his corner. “That’s not true, Jamie. You’re seeing me now, aren’t you? Do you know how difficult it was for me to arrange this?”

“Pfff.”

“We see each other for real every other weekend, and when we don’t see each other we talk like this. You know you can phone me whenever you like—”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. None of it’s the same.”

“I wish I could change it, son. But it’s the best I can do right now.”

Jamie went to reply, then closed his mouth, humphed and stared back down at his keyboard.

Callum sighed. “Come on, what’s going to make you feel better? Do you want to shout at me? Do you want to call me names?”

The boy’s nose wrinkled and a faint smile flickered on his lips before he stifled it.

“Go on,” Callum continued, “free hit. You can call me anything you want and I promise I won’t tell your mother.”

“What? Anything?”

“Anything at all. You want to call me a great big jerk…” Jamie sniggered, “…that’s fine, I deserve it. You want to call me a butt-face…” the snigger turned to laughter, “…go on and call me a butt-face.”

Callum glanced over to see the comms assistant looking at him now with undisguised interest; he probably thought that it was all some kind of secret code.

He looked back to see that the grin had disappeared from Jamie’s face. His eyes were dull once more.

“Jamie?”

“Got to go.”

Callum’s heart sank. “What’s the matter? Have I said something?”

The boy shook his head. “Mum says it’s dinner.”

“But we’ve only just…” Callum stopped himself. Patience. “Okay, well, have a nice dinner.”

There was a short silence before Jamie said, “Can we talk tomorrow, Dad?”

“You bet,” Callum replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “We can talk every night if you like?”

Jamie shrugged. Then he reached a hand out to close the link.

“I love you, Jamie.”

The screen went blank.

Callum fell back in his chair and clasped his hands on top of his head. For several minutes he sat quietly, staring at the empty screen and replaying the conversation in his mind. He rolled his eyes. Have a nice dinner. Was that really the best he could do?

He watched as the screen went onto automatic standby, then he got to his feet and walked back over to the door. The comms assistant monitored his approach; the intensity of his gaze made Callum feel increasingly self-conscious. Had he said anything wrong? Revealed anything he shouldn’t have?

As he pulled the door open, a hand fell on top of his shoulder. He turned around. “Look, I didn’t say anything—”

The man gently squeezed his shoulder. “Give to him time,” he said, with a warm smile that took Callum completely by surprise. “Just give to him time.”

4

“Ladies and gentlemen. Good morning and welcome to Franz Josef Land.”

A hush descended as the tall, balding man rose to his feet and cast an imperious glance around the audience. His smile was awkward, incompatible with the focus in his eyes. It caused his brow to furrow and the ends of his neatly trimmed moustache to flare beyond the corners of his lips. His skin was pale and taut, stretched tight across his prominent cheeks, chin and brow ridges, giving his face a skeletal aspect. “I am Mr Volkov, G&S Chief Executive and director of operations here on Harmsworth Island.”

Callum was seated towards the middle of the induction group, between Doctors Lee and Lebedev. Doctor Semyonov and Dan Peterson were seated behind, and there were at least twenty or so other specialists and research students packed into the surrounding rows. Around the lavishly decorated, wood-panelled walls stood G&S officials, all wearing similar blue outfits, as well as a rank of soldiers and a handful of Siberian guides.

“For the benefit of our foreign guests,” Volkov continued, “I will be giving this talk in English. I presume most of you clever people have a basic grasp. If not then please come to see me afterwards and I will speak properly.” He gestured an arm around the room. “This is the Albanov outpost. A full tour of the ship is next on the itinerary and later today you must also put up with me telling you all how close to death you are.” He perched on the edge of his desk. “For those of you who are unaware, you are now part of the most ambitious infrastructure project ever undertaken. The proposed plant here on Harmsworth will be at the highest latitude of any plant anywhere in the world. The construction energy requirements will be so considerable that power will be supplied, at least initially, by one of a number of pioneering floating nuclear power stations currently under construction.

“Russia, of course, has the largest known natural gas reserves in the world, and we are also already the largest exporter of natural gas. You may be wondering why, then, we are undertaking this project, and the answer is that the geographical pattern of our gas production is set to change dramatically over the next few decades. There will be reduced output from the current primary production sites, for example at Urengoy and Yamburg, and increased exploitation of Arctic resources.”

“In other words, they’re running out,” whispered Peterson.

“Aren’t we all,” Doctor Lee replied.

Volkov continued, “The gas fields identified in the waters off Franz Josef Land have an enormous projected capacity. The volume of gas that we expect to extract and process will be enough to ensure a continuous, reliable gas supply for northern Russia for many years to come. It will also make a substantial contribution towards our European export commitments.”

“Nothing