“Gotcha!” he whispered. He now had a continuous sequence of symbols covering a segment of tunnel and knowledge of what they meant. It was obvious the “Disabled” sign was superimposed on a fragment screen from the whole program and no one had bothered to erase it. Now with the meaning of the symbols and the map he was sure he had the tools to decipher the geography of the tunnel. There were four hours left before the ice-tractor returned to the hut and he launched himself into his search with the zeal of a hunter on the heels of his prey. He would not be able to do the search tomorrow because he would be glued to the live screen as per Guest’s command. Also he needed to get the information he wanted now for he did not trust Guest to allow him back once he had isolated the switch.
He hardly noticed the time passing as he followed the clues, beginning with the succession of symbols and looking for a matching sequence on the map. Now that he knew the sequence he seemed to find it almost at once. Next, as he investigated the collection of further symbols within each feature, he found one that threw him back each time onto the main map, including a small highlight. Using that symbol at every point he could see that he always moved a short distance. Working from one relay fan to the next, through the exhaust manifolds, and to the next condenser hall, he could track his progress on the map in what looked like a circular direction.
It was intensely exhilarating plotting a route around the screen. He had also noticed another recurring symbol halfway along the standard sequence, containing a whole new set of pathways. He decided it had to be the access to the inner freezer zone, the heavy sealed doorway to the deadly refrigerator grid. Another one, with a very complex set of subordinate pathways, was in all probability the turbine. As he continued he was getting a clearer and clearer picture of the whole set up. Between each condenser hall there were three exhaust manifolds and between each manifold site there were almost always twenty four relays. He remembered in his own trips along the perimeter tunnel he had paced almost without thinking the space between ceiling fans. He had figured they were at roughly half a kilometer distance, so he calculated now there were perhaps about fifty kilometers between each condenser hall.
Everything was falling into place but there was still one thing he didn’t know, and that was where Turbine 4 came on the map. There was no numbering at any point and it was becoming increasingly frustrating to have come so far but still to lack this last crucial bit of information. The whole map was following a circular path but how was he to orient himself anywhere in it? He was continuing to click with desperation through the map, when, suddenly, as he was almost three quarters of the way around, he saw an anomaly in the sequence, a symbol he had never seen before. The moment his eyes fell on it simultaneously his limbs froze and a pulse of heat shot from his feet to his head. It was unmistakably the shape of some kind of flying craft. He had seen its type in a couple of Holo-casts which simulated trips out among the stars. Here, beyond the shadow of a doubt, was proof of everything he had believed and with it very nearly all the information he was seeking.
“Poll, can’t you hear me? Come on, they’re all waiting, the tractor’s ready to go!” Finn’s voice and insistent banging on the door burst into his hypnotic state, dragging him back to reality. He had to leave right now; the crew, always tired and weak, would wait only a couple of minutes before climbing the shaft and taking the transport back to the hut.
At high speed he copied the last bit of sequence and its position on the map and exited the screen. “I’m right here, Finn. Wait, I’m coming.” He shoved his notes inside his shirt, grabbed his coat and his gloves and headed out the door. The two of them ran two steps at a time up the metal stairs and out into the tunnel, screaming with what breath they had, “Hold up, don’t leave, we’re coming!”
6. BREAK OUT
Cal knew exactly what she had to do. It was only a matter of when. She felt a strange thrill as she sat in the dining hall surrounded by hundreds of youthful Teppers laughing and chatting together. What she was planning would seem idiotic to them, foolish in the extreme, beyond pardon. But it was the only thing she could do, the only thing that made sense. To go to the service shed, steal an ice-tractor and head off to the borderlands would, she was certain, change everything, absolutely. How it would work out she had no idea. She had to rescue Poll, that much was clear, and she had some grasp of how to go about it. What came after, well it was fuzzy to say the least. “I suppose,” she thought to herself, “I’m relying on Poll to have a plan. But really that’s not it either. It’s really odd but I just feel this thing. Everything will change. All I have to do is have the guts to go through with it.”
“If you sit there staring into space, people will definitely start talking. I hope you’re not still thinking all that weird stuff.”
It was Wes and Esh settling into the seats opposite her and looking round in a semi-jokey conspiratorial fashion. Wes was picking up directly from their last conversation and trying hard to get things back to normal.
“Hi, I was looking out for you. I’m glad you’re here, ‘cause I’ve got a favor to ask. And, yes, it’s exactly to do with what I was telling you about last time.”
“Sounds like weird is still what she’s thinking,” Esh grimaced.
Cal leaned in close to her companions. “It’s not weird, it’s completely real. All this, everything, is going to change. I’m not exactly sure when or how, but I know it will. When it does you’ll be among the first to see it, to understand, and it’s going to be incredible.” She paused and shifted her approach. “In the meantime I also need your help. I learned how to drive an ice-tractor and where to get one, and I’m going to find Poll. But I need supplies for the trip. I need food. Can you get your maximum allowance for the next couple of days and set aside the extra for me?”
Wes gave a low whistle. “Then we’re definitely in trouble. You do realize that by helping you we could get sent to the camps too?”
“Wes, Esh you don’t have to fear anything. Even if they take you to the camps, I’ll get you out again, the same way as I’m going to get Poll out. I’m just asking you to be strong enough for that. And you know what? I think a chance like this only comes along once in a hundred years. It didn’t happen for our parents, and it won’t be there for our children. So, are you brave enough to grab it with both hands? Or, are you going to let this chance slip by?”
To hear someone speaking this way was utterly new for the two companions. The Worship Leaders whom they had to listen to all the time said more or less the opposite about people’s lives. The important thing was to hang on for somewhere else when they died. But now a nerve inside them stirred. Life could be exciting in a totally new way, very different from the sports events and the Hundred Day celebrations. For a moment no one spoke, then Esh reached her hand hesitantly across the table to Cal.
“You’re a special person, Cal, and I want to believe you. I’m totally scared even saying this—but I feel we can’t let you do this on your own?”
“Ain’t that the simple truth,” added Wes. “Because whether we believe you or not, if you do this we’re involved. They’ll come directly for us, and we’ll have to have a pretty good story.”
Cal smiled thankfully. “I knew you’d come through. You’ll see I’m right and you’ll be amazed. And yes, Wes, I thought of that. You can just tell them I was saying the same thing as Poll: that the religion of the Homeland is a cover-up and I was complaining all the time. Put the blame totally on me. They've got nothing to pin on either of you.”
Wes shook his head, “Let’s hope they buy it. I just couldn’t handle it if they send me off to maintenance.”
Suddenly another student appeared, leaning over the table. They all looked up.
“Hi Cal, it’s me, Rory. Sorry for butting in, but I was hoping to see you. There was somebody at Transport, a stranger, he was looking for you.”
Danny’s two companions glanced at Cal. She gestured, “Oh, hi Rory, these are some friends, Esh and Wes. And, yes, this h
ere is Rory, from Transport Management. What did the stranger want?”
“He didn’t say, but he seemed kind of important.”
Wes interrupted, “What did he look like?”
“Hard to describe. He didn’t look like the usual bosses.”
“Could you say he looked, well, healthy?” It was Esh who prompted.
“Yeah, that would be a good way of putting it. He was definitely healthy.”
Cal stood up abruptly in front of Rory. “Thanks so much, Rory, I’m glad you came over. Don’t you have a class now?
“No, my next is not for another hour.”
“Rory, I’m pretty sure you have a class now.” And she continued to stand glaring at him until he buckled.
“OK, OK, I better be going. Good to meet you guys. See you, Cal.”
The moment he was gone she sat down and blew out of pursed lips.
“What do you think?” said Esh.
“I think it’s beginning. That stranger is from the other world, just like the one you saw with Danny and Liz. I’m certain of it.”
“You mean Danny has sent for you to come join him?” Wes was joking, but it struck a chord with Cal.
She looked at him sharply, then half stood, bending in close to the two semi-converts to her cause. “I have to leave straight away. I have to reach Poll before anyone finds me. Can you meet me back here in two hours and get extra rations at first servings for dinner? That will have to be enough.”
***
Poll lay in bed trying to organize all the information in his head. He now understood the basic layout of the tunnel and the point that connected the tunnel to the rocket. But he had no idea of where his camp was in the system or in relation to that point. On the map the rocket symbol stood at the bottom, at what could be the south, but he couldn’t be sure because the map had no compass points. It could just as possibly be oriented from the south at the top.
He thought it possible the pioneers would have started building from where refrigeration created the most immediate impact—that is toward the south. The read-out for the broken fan had given the direction of south west, which could place camp 4 and its and turbine close to that point of the compass. But still the camps could be numbered from the north, and south-west be only the direction of travel, and then everything would be impossible. Judging from the total of symbols he had written down there were about thirty turbine points in the refrigeration ring. If the map was in fact inverted, or the camps were numbered from the north, he could walk hundreds and hundreds of kilometers and still not find the port, and he would collapse long before that anyway.
His mind was literally going round in circles. Tomorrow he would have very little chance to look for further clues, and he realized if he were ever to find the rocket he had to make his move then. It was vital to get away from Guest before he got deeper into the system and snared him further in his plans. Above all he simply needed to set out, to prove to himself and the Homeland the existence of the other world. Right now he was willing to take the chance of walking the tunnel and dying down there rather than wait any longer.
He got up and went silently over to Finn’s bed. He put his hand over his mouth and shook him by the shoulder. Finn’s eyes opened wide. Poll whispered, “Listen, I can’t explain, and the less you know the better, but tomorrow I need you to keep your second helping of food, the dry stuff like scones and anything else you lay your hands on. Wrap it up in a spare shirt and carry it under your coat to the tunnel. Make sure no one sees you. Give it to me there. I’ll tell you when. OK?” He took away his hand.
Finn smiled broadly, “Sure, but on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Whenever you get to where you’re going you come back to get me.”
Poll stared at Finn and then slowly nodded his head, “I think, yes, perhaps I will.”
Finn grabbed his hand, “No perhaps, Poll, say it for sure, say you will come back for me.”
“Ok Finn, I'll come back for you.”
Finn relaxed, turned over and closed his eyes. Poll went back to his own bed and lay down. Unlike Finn he couldn’t sleep. On top of the risk he was about to take Finn’s words disturbed him in a way he’d not expected. Never had it occurred to him that anyone else might want to go where he was going. He’d been on a solitary quest: it had been him alone against all the lies. Cal of course had been part of it. No, more than a part, she had been an essential key. But the idea now that someone else, anyone, might want to be with him, and to the point of demanding he’d come back, this seemed totally new. And he’d said yes! In face of all the other challenges he’d taken responsibility for someone else, and he’d never done that before.
He drifted into a fitful sleep, punctuated by the faces of Guest and Finn both speaking to him and questioning him about things for which he had no answer. He was trying hard to formulate a response, but failing. At last, in the small hours of the morning it was the thought of Cal that returned to him, of her belief and support, and he fell into an untroubled sleep which rested and restored him before the klaxon’s wail began his day.
***
The tractor moaned and crunched along the ice road to the turbine building and the tunnel shaft. Finn gave Poll the thumbs up indicating he had got the food but Poll didn’t respond. When they got to the shaft Finn went first as he always did. At the bottom the men crowded into the buffer room, huddled together. No one wasted energy in conversation. When the lock to the tunnel opened they began to file through and the wave of heat met them at once. The men spaced out automatically and began to unhook their coats with noisy grunts and sighs. Poll bent to Finn who was just in front of him and muttered. “Follow me. No one will notice.” He led the way down the tunnel to the point between storm lamps where the shadows were thickest. “OK, give me the food, then get back to the group.”
Finn dug inside his coat and produced a small bundle. Poll took it but Finn continued to stand there.
“Don’t hang around, they’ll see you’re missing. You’ve got to go. Now!”
Before Poll could stop him Finn threw his arms round him in a hug and then just as quickly turned and sprinted away. Poll stared at his retreating figure as it disappeared in the gloom. He continued to stand there listening to the thud of footsteps fading away. The drama of his situation returned to him with the force of a roof caving in. He felt a huge desperation. This was a fool’s errand and he would very probably die down here. He was fighting a rising tide of panic and struggled against it with all his might, willing his mind to concentrate.
He was twenty steps from the entrance to the condenser hall. There was a risk Guest would check he was at his post before he gave orders to install the replacement part. But there was also a fifty per cent chance the work detail to fix the fan would come this way. If they did and he was down with the computer he would be trapped behind them. Orienting himself from the surface he figured this direction of the tunnel did in fact run generally in a southerly orientation. Along this route he would be moving along the western edge of the ring or even well on his way south. There was also a chance this was entirely the wrong direction, away from the rocket. He had to decide. He could already hear voices coming. His limbs convulsed into action; he shoved Finn’s bundle into his pocket along with the few extra things he had taken, gathered up the tails of his coat and began running as stealthily as he could through the tunnel.
***
At the Transport Center Cal checked for security arrangements at the Machine Shop. The Center had a monitoring system covering Bubble transport and there was a huge room filled with screens recording all movement on the lines. Reviewing the system on one of the control computers she could see nothing showing the tractor shed. She guessed, therefore, it would not be monitored that strictly. To be on the safe side she briefly skimmed a camera maintenance program and was sure that if there was a camera at the tractor bay she’d be able to interrupt the live feed. The only thing left then was to collect the supplies sh
e’d asked for from Esh and Wes. She ordered a Bubble and set out back to Dining.
When she got there they were already in line. She collected her own full allowance and then sat down with them. After chatting casually for a couple of minutes she gently pushed their extra protein rolls and energy bars into her school bag. She left shortly after, calling out she’d see them tomorrow. At once she headed for the transport deck, ordering a Bubble with priority codes she’d seen a supervisor use. She arrived at the Machine Shop just at the end of the work day with a number of people waiting for vehicles. She pulled her hood up and dove into the crowd, remembering the separate bay for the transport vehicle connecting to the tractor shed. There was a dedicated Bubble sitting there. She jumped in and hit the start button. Within seconds she was at the shed, and its particular atmosphere of grime and grease was familiar and pleasant to her. Crossing the short deck and through the access lock she glimpsed shapes of a couple of people behind a plastic strip barrier, but they weren’t looking her way. She quickly found the rest room and entered a stall, waiting for things to go quiet.
The hours slipped by. One person came in to use the bathroom and left after a couple of minutes. She still had no clear idea in her head of how exactly she would rescue Poll, but she felt calm, even unworried. The pathway she was following was the one meant to be followed, and she had no doubt somehow she would find and save her friend. As she waited silently the whole sequence of events played through her mind, beginning with Poll cornering her after the lecture, then her out-of-body experiences, all the way to Poll’s arrest and sentencing to the camps. As she stared at the stall door with its oily metal finish she felt she was right there on a threshold. It was as if her frozen world had already begun to melt and yield to something new. She had to struggle to suppress a rising excitement. She had to take things gently, one step at a time. The digital hour on her therm-suit said it was past eight o’clock. She was almost certain no technician would still be hanging around the machine shop, but she continued to wait.
Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven Page 14
