"Escape From The Crater"

Escape From The Crater

by Carl L. Biemiller

Published by Doubleday & Company, Inc., Garden City, New York.

The Adam’s passage down the lake in a violet light that foretold an afterglow was swift. Moses’ selections among the Kirl archives were small. He took the photo-tapes, which had so disturbed Toby and Major Bell, and an assortment of notebooks bound in volume form. More elaborate materials were packed, water- and shock-proofed, and left. Moses looked at them reflectively.

“That information and those memories are now locked in the race. If you trust me and if there is time, I shall share them with you all.”

They found the young Kirl, Joshua and Lemuel, at the tunnel entrance, dozing on the shore.

“We knew you’d be back and decided to wait. We watched that silly whale for a long time, and he’s all right. He’s headed south and at a good clip.” The two young Kirl exchanged glances. “And also to the south along the horizon, but still many miles, there are vessels. We think we saw a large submarine on the surface, a fairly big vessel, maybe a research ship, because it was towing what looked like a lot of seeds and some barges. We hurried here.”

“So,” said Moses, “they were in more of a hurry than your commanders indicated. Good work, young Kirl. But get all the rest you can now. Our people follow us and there will be much swimming.”

“Must be somebody important to bring a research vessel,” said Tuktu.

“There is a small chance he may outrank me,” mused Genright.

Major Bell grinned. “Not me,” he said. “I represent the United States of America, a great nation. I can be either a friendly or a hostile power.”

“With troops that are frozen hard to bend,” said Tuktu solemnly.

The tunnel as seen through Major Bruce Bell’s eyes was something wonderful, if invisible to the rest of them. Where there were crevasses above leading into living rock, he talked of dormitories and instrument stations. He spoke of sheathing with steel liners to harness heat, and pointed out ancient, if invisible, drill marks.

“Kodiak was never damaged like this, I’m sure,” he said, like a man seeking conviction. “It is there and serviceable for many. It was a big base.”

He said nothing when they came to the glacial walls and saw the provision Tuktu and Genright had made for the evacuation of the bodies within that glacier. He had no explanation of the glacier itself. But as they paused and looked, he found a notebook on the com console and began to list names, his lips a bloodless slash across his face as he did so. He was quiet as Tuktu and Genright donned gear, popped out a hatch, and made fast a towline that already reeved through the ice sections, which would become floating, miniature bergs. He was silent as those bergs fell off the walls as they broke along the drill lines, snapped clean by the Adam’s surging power. And he stayed withdrawn as they towed the rat of linked bergs, each with its eerie inmates, to sea. They anchored the cryo raft at the entrance to the bay in cold, green arctic water.

No sun would melt that ice to any degree. It was impervious to all but time and disaster, secure from all but man and his tools.

They marked the berg necklace with dyes and set signal flags upon it to give it visibility. And they headed the Adam south.

The Kirl came with them in rough squads, platoons, and companies without haste or undue hurry. They moved with confidence and understanding, but steadily. There were aids to speed. The Adam sprouted an occasional timber tow for resting mothers and pups. Now and then the workboat circled the swimming throng. There were predators in those waters—orcas, the killer whales, perhaps, according to Major Bell, a cruising polar bear.

Genright messed with the computers.

“I make it about a thousand of your people,” he said to Moses.

“One colony. There are others elsewhere. Originally, it was deemed best not to know.”

The old Kirl was relaxed, almost chatty as he talked about his, and for the first time, himself.

“I am a transplant,” he said. “My original brain in this body. And you were right, Kim, when you thought of the Tardigrades. I am old, very old in man’s years. But it is age extended by a process described in my notebooks, induced hibernation plus certain drugs, a treatment I take about every two years. My people are not transplants. They are a reproductive race, true to the original genes created for it a long time ago. I am a single model, a freak.” He snorted through his whiskers and his dark eyes twinkled. “Like Genright, perhaps. He is an original.”

“Blat,” said Genright inelegantly.

It is, perhaps, fifty miles from the Katmai Peninsula area southwest to Kodiak Island, and clusters of other islands, most of them laced with busy rivers and studded with stark heights. Any one of the younger, sportive Kirl males out for a spring night’s flexing could have swum Shelikof Strait, once marked on the old maps, and had enough left for shore games. But the pack pace, while steady, was not fast, and governed by tidal rips, wind, and wave chop.

The long day, reluctant to end, had given way to the short night hours ago, but there were stars and the queer, deceptive luminosity which is a part of night in the north latitudes, when the Adam, with Major Bell at the con, eased into Old Harbor on Kodiak. The vanguard of the Kirl rippled in behind Adam’s small wake and eased wearily for the shoreline. Kim snapped on the big bow light countersunk in the hull and raked the banks. “Scare off critters,” he explained.

“Now,” said Major Bell.

“Now what?” asked Toby sweetly.

“Yeah, now both where and what?” grunted Tuktu.

“I don’t see nothin’,” said Genright. “Correction. That’s what I do see: nothin’.”

“Look at the instruments, and shut up,” snapped Kim. “Something there all right, and a mighty big something, at that.”

“The installation,” grinned Major Bell. “But tilted. She looked like a fat rocket on stilts once, with a lot of pipe and conduit sprouts going to the shore and a big shaft from her bottom that tapped into the bay bed. But the top of the installation was thirty feet under surface water out of casual sight. An awful lot of people manned the works though, day and night.

“Anybody want to take a sample of the goods? Fine, Genright volunteers.”

“I do?”

They took the Adam to the bottom in eighty feet of water. The Major and Genright donned their gear: shield suits, contour tanks, weight belts of assorted equipment, cluster lights, probe lights, small rod lasers. Genright took a little hammer. “Case I run into Tube Steak.”

The ancient power plant installation was very much there, but it lay on its side at a 45-degree angle, reclining upon the slope of the bay which emerged as the shore. Its support legs had snapped off, but there seemed to be a connection with the shaft which once plumbed the earth’s heart, bent though it was. They found two 24-inch pipes intact, if askew, which led from a side of the prone building. One was warm with an even comfort.

Major Bell’s face lighted behind his mask as he spoke into the com-system hookup. “A working unit,” he said. “Heat source from a controlled magma tap. Place may have power and light, and it seems to be holding interior pressure. There’ll be other linkages for air and fresh water with the shore, maybe, maybe, maybe…”

“Speak up and keep talking,” said Kim’s voice from the Adam. “We want to hear you constantly.”

The Major and Genright circled the facility.

“How come so little rust and erosion?” asked Gen.

“Note the circulation pattern of the bay basin with the moving wash and flow, and the way the harbor mouth pitches for sediment exit. Not much sediment anyhow. That bottom is granite, no igneous rock. Besides, as I recall, there’s sort of a dead-center isostasy here, which eliminates shock or volcanic action in an area loaded with nasty possibilities. The location of this installation was planned, boy.”

Two small hair seals chasing a rock cod went by, leaving a trail of burble.

“Traffic, said Genright. “Not to worry Adam.”

They swam the length of the structure, beaming light into windows seemingly sealed as part of the all-metal building.

“Metal is lightweight impervium, sort of a steel with matched structural crystals. Windows are clear quartz,” said the Major.

“Are they strong?”

“As impervium.”

“How do we get in, then?”

“Doors and airlocks at the top of the structure, probably right near the shore, maybe even on it, the way it’s lying.”

“Never mind,” said Genright. He took the toy-like hammer from his belt and rapped sharply on one of the panes, which promptly broke with a rush of bubbles that ceased almost immediately.

“Well, enough pressure to hold off the bay water, which means breathable air inside. But I’d hate to think of the whole Kirl colony going into a shelter like thieves.”

“You don’t have to, you know,” said Major Bell ruefully. He pointed to the next window.

Two Kirl pups were staring at them from the gloomy interior.

“Going to be handsome when they get all their whiskers,” said Genright. “Venturesome little types, aren’t they?”

“What’s going on there?” rapped Kim’s voice. “you got company?”

“Nah,” answered Genright. “We got tenants. Some of Moses’ junior models are already inside. Might even be running the machinery in the dark, for all I know, or else they’re picking out the best beds in the barracks areas.”

“See, send a crazy to find crazies,” said Tuktu’s mournful tones.

“We’re going in,” said Major Bell crisply, “and I think we’ll find the home ready for occupancy.”

They did and it was, if a bit messy. But there was modest heat, ample and circulating air, and some functioning light sources. Major Bell, stripped of his shield suit, inspected, adjusted, and made right, like a man in his own familiar house.

Kim nudged the Adam closer to the installation and left her on the bottom as he, Toby, Tuktu, and Moses joined the Major and Genright for their own inspection tour.

By daybreak, Kodiak Island’s Old Harbor looked as it had looked for centuries, untouched, uninhabited, a home for only wildlife, rock-brown and tree-green in the late summer. The Kirl were in new quarters, organized and on their own after Moses held long, explicit conferences with his Kirl council and his leadership lieutenants, which neither the hydronauts nor Major Bell were invited to attend.

Moses, the Major, and the hydronauts returned to the Adam. They were entering the countdown to confrontation with the Service, which claimed the hearts and loyalties of the four of them, and the Council of Cities, which none of them knew.

“I feel shaken,” said Toby Lee.

“I, too,” said Kim.

“I feel sleepy,” stated Tuktu, “and I should, as I don’t remember having much sleep lately. I am going to curl up cozy and sleep.”

“Tuk, you are a deep thinker, and I am going to join you. I recommend some old, flavorful, mighty fine snoozing for all of us. What do you say, Major Bruce Bell, a man who knows what real rest is?”

“If I sleep, I’ll dream I’m part of the dream I’m already having while I think I’m awake. But I must confess I’m dreaming that I’m pretty sleepy.”

Moses merely assumed his rug posture.

They slept. Above the surface of the bay, which hid so many, the day grew strong and would stay so for many more hours. Half a hundred miles or more to the north, Service medicos and crews were about the careful business of reviving cryos, making initial explorations of a tunnel and a lake, and watching all sensing equipment for the work-boat Adam and a crew obviously in need of discipline.

They awakened refreshed, but oddly subdued with a heaviness, which pressed them into clipped and meaningless talk as they dallied through a meal.

“It’s about that time, but I don’t see anybody ready to go,” said Kim wryly.

“There is plenty of time and you’ll be ready enough,” stated Moses in his flattest voice.

“I think I’d like to take a look about on shore first,” suggested Major Bell, “just a reccon look in case of something or other. Any takers?”

“We’ll all go,” said Kim.

“We will not all go,” said Moses. “I will make one more visit to my people. There are plans and times for them too, for their future does not stop with temporary housing.”

“Break out a dinghy,” Tuktu said.

“Who?” asked Genright.

“Unless you want to walk ashore…”

“Me I guess,” added Genright.

They pulled the tiny craft up over the fringe of shale lining the bay into a patch of bushes overhung by trees.

“I don’t know what I expect to see,” said Major Bell. “Maybe traces of old pipelines. Obviously, all the shore structures are gone. They weren’t designed for forever anyhow, and I don’t intend to dig around like an archaeologist.”

“You planning any bears?” asked Tuktu.

“One doesn’t plan bears,” snapped Toby.

“Hooo, listen to the voice of experience,” said Genright.

“Well, it looks like fine game country, in case the Kirl want to forage ashore if the sea diet’s sparse. Lot of little sweet-water creeks and vegetable cover, chewy leaves and probably berries. Yes, there might be a random bear or two, but then you’re a deadeye shot with that laser rod, Toby Lee,” said Major Bell.

“I’d just as soon not have another bear,” snapped Kim. “We have a big leftover now from the last one.”

“It’ll make a handsome, warm, useful decoration for the Adam when I finish with that leftover,” said Toby stiffly.

“Yeah, for whoever sails her,” muttered Kim. “And they might not want a rug that bites.”

They followed the Major through and around clumps of alder, walked warily around dense areas of devil’s club with its rending thorns, into alleys of stunted pines, gums, and scrub larch and birch fighting for life in the rocky soil. They were on the southwest side of the island, and now and then they could see the land lift into the peaks, which formed a spiny ridge of mountains.

“Most of the island’s rivers and creeks flow from those hills north into Shelikof Straits, but a lot flow this way to the sea and our bay as well,” said Major Bell. “Ground’s getting a mite boggy here. If you listen, you’ll hear running water.”

They angled to meet the stream, a clear run of icy water confined between steep banks, nattering to itself like a housewife as it busied itself scouring pebbles and adjusting pools and eddies. There were fish in some of those pools, trout wearing rainbow mail, and cutthroat trout flaunting bans of scarlet at their throat lines. Where the banks flattened and the shallows were only finger-deep, there was watercress and grasses. And beyond the banks were stretches of meadow.

“Good place to sit a bit,” said Major Bell.

“And psych ourselves up a rev or two,” added Kim thoughtfully.

“So sit,” said Genright. “I think I’ll stroll upstream a bit further. Any objections? I won’t go far, nor will I be long.”

“Don’t speak to anybody,” said Tuktu.

“Don’t touch anything,” added Toby.

“Don’t get lost,” instructed Kim.

“And don’t sprain anything,” said the Major.

“Thank you one and all for your negative advice.” Genright turned and strolled off.

“He does love to explore,” murmured Toby.

“Well, check your timepieces. When you’re sure he’s out of sight, it’ll be ten minutes to disaster time,” grunted Tuktu, flinging himself flat in the grass.

“Come on now,” said Major Bell. “He’s a remarkably sound person and very bright in my book.”

“Just check the time,” said Tuktu, his voice muffled as he rested his head in the crook of his arm.

Kim and Toby chuckled.

It was not ten minutes. It was five. Genright’s yell was shrill and strident on the breeze that ruffed the shoulder-high willows. It was followed by Genright himself, half on the bank, half in the stream, in a wild, bursting sprint. His yell pealed fright and an odd anger.

“SOMETHING,” he shouted. “SOMETHING!”

A scrambling, crashing, thudding sound almost in rhythm, and the noise of great splashings followed him. As Genright came toward them, they could see a huge, red-brown bulk in a half-center, sending up sheets of spray about twenty yards behind him.

“What in the world is that thing?” gasped Toby.

“A humpbacked monster with a banjo muzzle and a tree growing out of its head,” said Tuktu impersonally. “Big thin, say two tons, mebbie.”

Major Bell, moving quickly, moved to the stream and waded in.

Genright passed him, stopped short, and joined him.

“What is that? It jumped me from the bank up there,” he said. “Shall I burn it?”

“Shut up,” said Major Bell. He put his fingers into his mouth and whistled sharply.

The creature halted, raised its head, and stared at them with wide, red-rimmed, watery eyes. It lifted its muzzle and smelled the wind. A seven-foot spread of dark antlers, fuzzed and soft-looking in summer velvet, crowned its great head.

“That’s a moose,” said Major Bell. “It eats leaves and grasses, not people, and it’s beautiful. What’s more, you scared it,” he added accusingly.

“Then how come it’s chasing me?” demanded Genright loudly. “I wasn’t chasing it.”

“It’s curious. It never saw anything like you,” said the Major.

“Nothing ever saw anything like you,” contributed Tuktu from the bank.

“Never mind its diet,” said Kim, raising his voice. “Will moose attack?”

“Under some circumstances. This isn’t one of them. Hey, boy, hoooey, boy, go. GIDDAP NOW!

The huge animal spun and trotted amiably away in the same direction from which it came, its stub of tail twitching a farewell.

“Hey, Genright. Hey, boy, hoooey, go. GIDDAP!” bellowed Tuktu, holding his sides and rolling in the grass.

“So I was scared,” admitted Genright.

“Not to worry,” said Major Bell laughing. “How do you think I’d feel if I saw some sea monster for the first time? That oarfish of yours didn’t exactly give me great comfort. Wasn’t the moose that bugged, just as that bear didn’t truly bug Toby and Kim, or they wouldn’t have reacted so swiftly. It’s the strangeness of land itself. None of you strayed far from the lake, you know, although you were ready to risk a journey. You’ve been taught to fear land, and rightly so. Now, as the land heals, and with much of it without contamination, you’re going to learn that land can be a friend, and that not all of its creatures are dangerous, although many can be.”

“That moose looked mean,” said Genright.

“Not this time of year when he’s fat on lush grasses and willow leaves and his antlers in velvet. He might be a bit touchy later in the year when he rubs that velvet off and his antlers get hard and shiny and ready to use on another buck or a wolf or any enemy. No, he wasn’t mean, not that bull, if you’d run into the cow, that’s different. This time of year she’s helping her calf learn the tricks of living. And if she thought you might possibly hurt her little boy or girl moose, she’d try to kill you.”

They strolled upstream and listened to the Major’s soft voice as they watched the busy summer countryside about them. They saw a land otter stalk a trout. “Sort of a small cousin to the Kirl,” whispered the Major. They saw a Sitka deer doe and its gawky fawn. They caught a flashing glimpse of a Kodiak weasel, which can only be seen on Kodiak Island. They saw red squirrels and watched birds. They saw a little bushy-tailed wood rat, which the Major called a pack rat and explained how in the old days the little fellow would collect small objects from campsites like buttons and pieces of glass.

Hours slipped by, although the sun rode high; above the Arctic Circle it would not set at all, and daylight would blaze for twenty-four hours of the summer day. Nobody mentioned the Service, the Council of Cities, or their forth-coming rendezvous with authority and the future. They were lighthearted and they romped, and the Major, his face as young as the hydronauts, was as a man coming home from a long, perilous journey. It was Kim, his voice steady, who broke the spell of the afternoon.

“Time to saddle up and prepare to ride the Adam,” he said.

Chapter One	Chapter Two	Chapter Three	Chapter Four	Chapter Five
Chapter Six	Chapter Seven	Chapter Eight	Chapter Nine	Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven	Chapter Twelve	Chapter Fourteen	Chapter Fifteen

Back toThe Reunion

Back to Book One, The Hydronauts

Back to Book Two, Follow The Whales

To the Harvest of Memories

C.L. Biemiller's Home