Polar Meltdown (2 page)

“So we find out where the attack took place and start our search there,” said Zoe.

“Exactly,” said Uncle Stephen. “Most bears give birth in December and January – usually to twins – and when the cubs are about two or three months old they start bringing them out. So our little orphans could have started exploring, but they'll still be dependent on their mum for milk.”

The door opened and a smiling young woman with a ponytail came in. It was Erika Bohn, Dr Fisher's second-in-command.

“I've just got the latest weather reports for Fairwood,” she told them. “Minus twenty degrees centigrade with snow showers.”

“Minus twenty!” gasped Zoe. “That's incredibly cold. And won't it be dark most of the time?”

“It would be in the depths of winter,” Erika explained. “But as it's March there'll be about twelve hours of daylight, like here.”

She tapped a screen and brought up a map of the Arctic Circle.

“Here's Fairwood,” she said, zooming in on the northern coast of Alaska. “That's the village where the fisherman lives. I'll take you there so you can find out more from him. Eager questions from a couple of kids won't look suspicious. I'm going to pretend to be your mother and we'll be tourists.”

“Then you two will head off to search for the bear cubs while Erika goes further along the coast,” put in Uncle Stephen.

“There's a new oil drilling project being proposed in the Arctic near to Fairwood,”

Erika told them. “We're fearful that pollution from the drilling will add to the problems that global warming is already causing for the animals there. I'm going to investigate.”

“You'll be needing my latest invention, of course,” said Uncle Stephen, proudly pulling out a small crate from under a workstation and rummaging around inside. “I'm very excited about my RAT.”

With a flourish, their godfather pulled out two streamlined snowboards with micro-sized engines at the back. They were about half the size of a normal skateboard and folded in half for packing. The children had never seen anything like them.

“The RAT,” he explained. “The Rapid Arctic Traveller. I've made them from a special ultra-bonded polyurethane I've developed. They're so strong an elephant could use them – if it could get its feet in the footholds. And the beauty is they're made entirely from recycled materials.”

He placed one on the ground and stood on it, kicking the engine into life with his heel.

“Dr Fisher!” warned Erika. “Remember what happened last time you tried it out.”

“I thought I'd be safe in the corridor,” protested Uncle Stephen, as the RAT wobbled dangerously. “I didn't know that James was about to come out of the staff restaurant with a tray of yoghurts.”

“I wish I'd seen that!” said Ben.

“I rather resembled a milkshake afterwards,” admitted their godfather, reluctantly stepping off the RAT.

“It's just like skateboarding,” said Erika. “And I know you two are experts at that. The RAT power-glides across the snow. It's very flexible and copes with bumpy terrain. The engine runs on batteries, solar powered of course, and it will keep going for forty-eight hours without a boost.”

“Awesome!” gasped Ben.

“I can't wait to try it out,” exclaimed Zoe, taking one in her hands. “It's so light.”

“And now for the rest of your equipment,” said Erika. “You'll be needing your BUGs and suitable clothing.” She opened a drawer and handed them two small devices. The BUGs, short for Brilliant Undercover Gizmos, looked like handheld games consoles to anyone who didn't know. They were, in fact, sophisticated machines that did a whole range of things from satellite mapping to animal tracking.

“I wouldn't want to go without this,” said Ben, scrolling through the menu.

Uncle Stephen chuckled. “Don't forget to pack your long johns – they'll be just as vital as your BUGs on this chilly mission.”

Erika led Ben and Zoe over to the stockroom.

The Wild stockroom was an Aladdin's cave of marvellous technological devices, clothes for every possible climate, and various half-finished inventions of Uncle Stephen's, full of wires and springs.

Erika pulled two backpacks off a shelf. “I've already put a tent in one of these,” she told them. “And your ultra-light thermal sleeping bags.” She then took two baby bottles and some powdered milk from a wall cupboard.

“This is specially formulated to match the rich milk of a polar bear mother,” she said. “Now pass those white bundles, please, Zoe.”

“What are they?” asked Zoe, pulling two furry fleeces out of a box.

“Slings,” said Uncle Stephen, appearing in the doorway. “When you find the cubs you'll need something to carry them in.

They'll be about the size of large cats by now. The fur will make them think you're their mother. We don't want them to get used to humans.”

The children stashed the slings in their backpacks, and Dr Fisher showed them the special side pockets that kept the folded RATs hidden from view. Erika made two piles of clothes for them to take.

“Looks as if Erika's getting you to pack everything but the kitchen sink!” laughed Uncle Stephen. “She's right, though. You must be prepared for the worst the weather can throw at you out there.”

Erika grinned at him as she picked up two pairs of goggles.

“These are specially designed for the Arctic,” she said. “They act as snow goggles, which you will find essential, but when you press the logo here…” she touched the small symbol on one side and immediately the lower half of the glass darkened, “…that part becomes thermogoggles.” Erika handed the goggles to Ben and Zoe.

“Awesome!” said Ben.

Ben and Zoe hoisted their backpacks on to their shoulders and slung their Arctic clothing over their arms.

“We're ready!” declared Zoe.

“Good luck,” said Uncle Stephen. “I'll start looking for somewhere that takes polar bear orphans.”

Ben turned to face Zoe. “Come on, what are we waiting for? We've got bear cubs to save!”

CHAPTER
THREE

Erika brought the aeroplane down on the landing strip of the little airport at Fairwood, Alaska. It was a bright morning and the sun glinted on the snow that lay all around.

“It's eleven o'clock here,” said Ben. “So the flight was only seven hours! This is a fantastic plane.”

“Your uncle's very pleased with his new design.” Erika smiled as she took off the pilot's headset. “It's all made from recycled products, but it still looks like an ordinary private jet. You're the first passengers.”

“I see he's still using chicken poo in his special fuel,” said Zoe, wrinkling her nose.

Everything at Wild was run on eco-friendly – but rather pongy – fuels.

“But there's something else,” added Ben. “It doesn't quite smell the same.”

“Well spotted,” said Erika. “He put egg yolks in the mixture. That makes for a much more efficient fuel.”

“Certainly makes it faster!” said Zoe.

They picked up their bulging backpacks.

“Hats, gloves, everything on before I open the door,” instructed Erika. “And don't take anything off while you're outside. Frostbite can hit in minutes.”

The children were wearing fleecy tracksuits and long underwear. Now they zipped themselves into white padded waterproof trousers and jackets, and pulled on their balaclavas and gloves.

“Warm as toast!” Ben grinned.

They stepped down on to the tarmac. Their breath made clouds in the freezing air.

“It's so cold!” gasped Zoe, looking round the desolate airstrip with its single building that rose from the flat snow all around. “The air's even freezing the inside of my nose!” She tried not to think about the poor cubs huddled in their den, waiting in vain for their mother to return.

“Follow me,” said Erika briskly, heading off towards the airport offices. “Once we're through passport control our taxi will be arriving to take us to the Inupiat Heritage Center. It's a good starting place to find out the information we need.”

They were soon waiting outside the airport. In the distance across the white landscape they could just make out a cluster of houses.

Ben was peering down the snow-covered road, marked out by its row of telegraph poles. “I think I've just spotted our taxi,” he said, “and it's awesome!”

Zoe gasped as she followed his gaze. A large sledge was gliding towards them, pulled by a team of eager huskies. The sledge drew alongside and the huskies stood panting as a short, stocky man dressed in fur-trimmed animal skin jumped down.

“Miss Bohn?” he enquired with a broad smile.

Erika smiled back and nodded. “And these are my children, Ben and Zoe.”

“Welcome to Alaska,” said the man. He spoke with an American accent. “My name's Charlie.”

Ben and Zoe went over and admired the sledge.

“This is going to be great!” exclaimed Zoe. “Shall we get in, Mum?”

The children gave each other a secret grin. They were used to Erika taking on different roles for their missions, but it was funny to pretend she was their mother.

“Oh course, dear,” Erika replied. “But no pushing and shoving.”

The children scrambled aboard, settled themselves on the long bench and covered their legs with a blanket.

Zoe kept her eye on the dogs. One of them looked younger and fluffier than the others and it was rolling in the snow, getting tangled in its chain.

“How sweet!” She sighed. “I just want to hug it.”

“Zoe's having an attack of gooeyness,” groaned Ben.

“Leave your sister alone,” said Erika, rolling her eyes at Charlie.

They watched him say a few sharp words to the dog.

“That one's just finished her training,” he told them, as he climbed into the sledge. “She'll be really good when she settles down.”

One or two of the huskies were already howling in their impatience to get going, and he urged them forwards with some words the children didn't understand. The sledge glided over the snow in a wide arc and then set off in its previous tracks.