by Max McCoy
"But what you didn't count on is that love is eternal," Indy said as he backed away with the gun, pulling her body after him. "You don't know the power of love because all you have is hate, and that hate has turned your hearts to stone. Well, I'm not going to let you desecrate her body—or her memory."
He knelt down, hoisted Alecia's body over one shoulder, and then stood up. He was still holding the machine gun in his other hand.
"What are you doing?" Ulla asked.
"The only thing I can do," Indy answered. "Bury her."
He thumbed the fire-control button of the MP-40 to full automatic, and as the sharp click! echoed from the stones, Reingold and the soldiers dived for cover.
"I'm sorry," Indy whispered, and then heaved Alecia's body over the side. She seemed to sail through the air, her arms and legs splayed and her red hair flaming out behind her. Then her body struck the surface of the lava pool and burst into flames.
The twisting pillar of the northern lights flared to brilliance. For a moment everyone stopped, mesmerized, because Alecia's face was staring back at them from within the supernatural glow.
Impulsively, Indy retrieved Alecia's hat from the ground and stuffed it inside his jacket.
"What are you waiting for?" Reingold screamed. "Get them!"
Indy took cover behind the nearest rock as his gun spewed flame and lead, allowing enough cover for Ulla and Sparks to join him. The Nazis returned fire, but the trio was already far down the rocky steps, protected by the undercut ledge. Mixed with the acrid smell of gun smoke was the odor of burning flesh.
11
Ultima Thule
Indy and Ulla jumped onto the deck of the Berserker, then together they pulled Sparks aboard as he tottered uncertainly on the rail. Ulla crouched behind the gunwale, and at the first sight of a Nazi uniform on the path above, she fired a burst.
"Get below," Indy told Sparks.
"The water is up to my ankles in the cabin," he protested.
"Well, there's going to be hot lead up to your neck if you stay up here," Indy said as he grabbed a broken piece of spar and tried to push the boat away from the shore.
Gunnar asked if the devil himself was after them.
"You could say that," Ulla replied in Danish.
Gunnar's right hand was in a sling, but he picked up an oar with his left and, leaning against the handle with his thick chest, helped Indy push the boat out into the lake.
The Berserker bobbed low in the water.
"Keep poling!" Ulla shouted as she let loose with another burst to keep their pursuers at bay. Dortmuller held his weapon above a rock and sprayed the area, but succeeded only in wasting ammunition and stitching the surface of the water.
Soon the lake was too deep for Indy to reach the bottom with the spar, but the current began to draw the boat away. Ulla emptied the rest of her magazine at the shore, then popped in a fresh clip, released the bolt, and waited.
"Keep low," she whispered.
The boat edged slowly toward the sound of rushing water.
"We're not going through another drain, are we?" Indy asked.
"If we are, it beats facing what's back there," she said.
The current began to pick up speed and soon the boat was pulled toward the shallow falls that emptied from the lake. Her bottom grounded on the rim of the falls but, after some nudging from Indy with the spar, slipped over the rocks and entered the mouth of a dark river. Soon they were out of sight from the shore, but they could hear Reingold's curses as he exhorted his men to follow.
"Where are we headed?" Sparks asked, poking his head out of the cabin door.
"Down," Indy said.
A luminescent mist tinted with the colors of the aurora floated over the river as it serpentined into the depths of the earth, allowing just enough light for the passengers of the wallowing boat to glimpse their surroundings. During some portions of the descent, the rocks would take on a majestic quality, as if they were floating through a stygian cathedral complete with bits of stained glass in the form of quartz and amethyst. At other times the passage seemed to be flanked by velvet drapery, or glittering tapestries made of diamond, or the tourmaline tubes of a gigantic pipe organ. Occasionally they caught glimpses of what must have been veins of silver, and at other times of gold. Gunnar's eyes gleamed with greed at the sight.
A narrow path paralleled the course of the river during most of these passages, but occasionally the path would veer off as the river passed between high cliffs or beneath a rocky overhang. Always, however, the path would reappear, as reliably as a railway track running alongside a desert highway.
Ulla estimated that their speed was just sufficient to keep ahead of the pursuing Nazis, but not by much. Her calculation was proved during the infrequent straight stretches when an occasional geyser would rise in the water close to them, followed a moment later by the report of a rifle.
For hour after hour the Berserker drifted deeper into this forbidden realm. Ulla remained at the stern of the boat, ever watchful for the flash of a gun barrel behind them, but Indy found himself staring off into the darkness ahead of the boat, holding Alecia's unlikely black hat in his hands—and dreaming about things that now could never be.
As Ulla watched and Indy brooded, the Berserker sank lower and lower, until the water left no room at all in the cabin. Gunnar had salvaged some food and a coffeepot before abandoning the lower deck altogether, and he lit a small fire from the bits of the mined boat, intending to make a modest meal to lift their spirits. It seemed to take a long time for the water to boil, and when it finally did and the coffee was made, it was so unbearably hot that the porcelain cups began to crack.
Gunnar questioned Ulla about it.
"Air pressure," Sparks said, and Ulla repeated the answer in Danish. "The air is becoming denser, and the boiling point of water has risen, like in an automobile radiator."
"You're sure?" Ulla asked.
"Normal air pressure is fourteen point seven pounds per square inch at sea level," Sparks said, as if he were reciting a passage from a textbook. "It must be at least double that now."
"Do you remember everything you read?" Indy asked.
"If it's a number," he said. "Sometimes I can't get to sleep at night because I have all of these figures running through my head—equations, telephone numbers, even sports scores."
"That must be horrible," Ulla said.
"No, it's rather pleasant, actually," Sparks told her.
"How deep do you think we are?" Ulla asked.
Sparks shrugged.
"We're at the bottom of a column of air molecules that extends, in its thinnest form, up to a thousand miles in space," he said. "Air does not compress like water does, which doubles its density every thirty-three feet. But the coffee took three or four times longer than usual to boil, right? My guess is that we're at least three hundred miles down by now, and the pressure is double, maybe triple. Of course, I can't know the precise depth without knowing the precise temperature of the water."
"What about the ship's barometer?" Ulla asked. "Wouldn't it give us some idea?'
"It burst," Sparks said. "So did the thermometer. Anything with air sealed inside is likely to implode."
Ulla translated for Gunnar.
"But we have air inside of us, right?" Ulla asked. "Why don't we burst?"
"Because our bodies are mostly water, not gas," Sparks said. "It doesn't compress. And the air spaces we do have in our bodies are not trapped—our lungs, for example, are breathing air that is the same pressure as the outside, so there is an equalizing effect. The only pressure you might feel is in your sinuses, if you have a head cold. Otherwise, you're fine."
"Is there a risk of the bends?" she asked.
"Deep-sea divers are under much more intense pressure," Sparks said. "If we were experiencing this pressure in the ocean, we'd probably be only between sixty and ninety feet. And the bends are caused by rapid ascent, not descent."
"A hundred miles?" Ulla asked reveren
tly. "That's deeper than a human being has ever gone into the earth, deeper by at least ninety-five miles."
"We may not be the first," Indy said. "Baldwin, remember."
Ulla frowned.
"Well, we're the first on record," she said. "Like Columbus. And explorers get to name their discoveries, right?"
"So what do you want to call this place?" Indy asked.
"The Edda Shaft." She translated for Gunnar, and he nodded.
"What's it mean?" Sparks asked.
"Loosely translated," Indy said, "the Shaft of Poetic Saga."
"I'm impressed," Ulla commented. "You have read the Icelandic tales, haven't you?"
Water was beginning to wash over the deck now.
"It looks like we're breaking up," Ulla noted. "And this ship is supposed to be unsinkable."
"It's the cork," Sparks said. "The cork is failing because the pressure is collapsing the microscopic air pockets in it. It has lost its buoyancy."
"Well, for whatever reason, it's about time to abandon ship," Indy said. "Everyone here can swim, right?"
"Why are you looking at me?" Sparks asked. "I know how to, theoretically."
Within minutes, the Berserker simply sank away beneath their feet, leaving them to swim for it. Ulla slung the submachine gun around her neck and starting kicking for the bank. For a moment Indy thought Gunnar had gone down with his ship, until he saw him bob to the surface and try to tread water with one hand. Indy grabbed him by the collar and towed him behind. But Sparks was the first to reach the bank, even though he gulped mouthfuls of water and was doing a combination dog paddle and frog kick.
"Gee," Sparks said coughing as he crawled dripping onto the rocks. "You'd think with all this air available, we'd float a little better. Sometimes, science just doesn't make sense."
"Wait a minute," Indy said after he was sure Gunnar was all right. "What is this dense atmosphere going to do to a bullet?"
"You mean the trajectory?" Sparks asked. "It'll retard it, but not enough to make much of a difference,"
"No," Indy said. "I mean, with the gunpowder."
"Hmm." Sparks stopped to ponder. "That's an interesting thought. We're so deep now, I wouldn't try to shoot those guns of yours."
"Why?"
"Two reasons. One, the increased pressure will make powder burn at higher, more explosive temperatures."
"Like the coffee," Indy said.
"Right."
"And second?"
"This is the interesting part," Sparks said. "Because of the extra power, and the denser and therefore springier gases inside the barrel of a firearm."
"So, what's that mean?" Ulla asked.
"The gun may blow up in your face," Sparks finished. "Chambers and barrels weren't designed for pressures of two or three times normal, and in the brief instant of a gunshot there's no equalization in the barrel."
"Is there any way to make the guns useful?" she asked.
"Yeah," Sparks said. "Take the bullets apart and reduce the amount of powder by at least half—or two thirds, to be on the safe side."
The sound of boots echoed down the passage behind them.
"You're sure?" Indy asked.
"Don't put me on the spot."
"Well, we're about to test your theory," he said. "You three, go on down the passage. I'm going to stay here for a moment, be a target for them."
"Indy!" Ulla said.
"No, go on," he shouted. "And don't try to use that thing you're holding until we find out for sure."
The other three hurried off farther down the path away from the Germans, while Indy hid behind a boulder and waited. When the sound of the boots were nearly upon him, he jumped out.
"Now's your chance!" Indy shouted.
Dortmuller was in the lead, and his submachine gun was up in an instant. He was about thirty yards from Indy. "Fever eroffnen!" Reingold shouted from behind. "Open fire!"
Indy turned on his heels and ran.
Dortmuller aimed at Indy's back and pulled the trigger. The gun exploded with a flash of light and a deafening whooomp! in his hands, and the explosion simultaneously set off the remaining twenty rounds in the gun's magazine. As Dortmuller's torso turned into a red haze, pieces of the gun ricocheted off the stone walls and slashed like shrapnel through two of the troopers standing beside him.
A scalding piece of the barrel nicked Indy in the right calf, sending him stumbling to the ground. Then he got to his feet and continued running, but now with a limp.
"Three for the price of one," he panted as he caught up to his companions and sat down on the ground. "That leaves eight of them, I think."
He pulled up his trouser leg and inspected his calf, which was surprisingly free of blood. "But here's an important tip that Sparks failed to mention—the guns explode like bombs, and pieces go in every direction."
Ulla inspected the ugly red welt.
"It didn't hit anything vital," she said. "And the metal was so hot that it cauterized the wound. But you'll have a lovely scar."
"A lovely scar?" Indy asked. "It hurts. Something that feels like this can't be called lovely."
"Consider yourself lucky." Ulla folded her arms, her lips tight. "It could have hit you in the back of the head."
Indy got up, still limping.
"Let's keep going," he said. "Find a place we can rest for a bit and rig the bullets like Sparks said."
"They're going to figure it out, too," Ulla warned.
"Yeah," Indy said proudly, "but we did it first."
Two hours later the path left the river, apparently for good. When it opened into a wide chamber, Indy called for a rest stop, and while they sat they used their teeth to remove the lead bullets from the cartridges and pour out most of the powder.
"Won't this slow the velocity?" Ulla asked.
"Nope," Sparks said. "Guns work from the compression of gases. Things should work out about equal."
"Should," Indy said. "That's a scary word."
"Where do you think this passage is leading us?" Sparks asked nervously. "Do you think it will ever go back up?"
"I don't know," Indy said. "But I intend to find out."
Indy took his two ruined cartridges from the Webley, pulled the slugs with his teeth, and then used a little of the gunpowder that Ulla had emptied from her ammo.
"Back in business," he said as he holstered the Webley. "Let's go."
"I'm getting awfully tired," Ulla said. "Gunnar and Sparks don't look any better. Can't we rest a little bit longer?"
"Do you think they're resting?"
"No," she said sadly as she replaced the magazine in the MP-40. "How long do you think this can go on?"
"Until it ends," Indy said.
Ulla stood up.
The Nazis suddenly stumbled into the chamber, unaware that Indy and the others had paused there. The troopers fumbled for their guns, and before Ulla could bring her own weapon around, two of them had already begun firing. The air was suddenly filled with ricocheting lead.
"Cover!" Indy shouted.
Ulla took a step toward Indy and the others, then was jerked backward like a puppet as one of the flattened slugs struck her in the chest. Her face was full of surprise as she landed on her rump and elbows on the ground, the machine gun dangling uselessly from the strap around her neck.
She glanced down at the growing crimson stain, then over at Indy with apology in her eyes.
"Sorry," she said.
Indy ran to her.
He grabbed the MP-40 and fired blindly into the Nazis while dragging Ulla away. Gunnar and Sparks were unhurt, and already running. Two of the Nazis fell dead from Indy's barrage and a third clutched his arm before the gun jammed, refusing to eject a shell that had been loaded with too little powder. Indy dropped the gun and hurried with Ulla down the passage.
The Nazis, who were as tired and dazed as their prey by now, hung back for a moment while they counted their losses.
"Sparks!" Indy cried. "Help me."
Spark
s got beneath Ulla's shoulder and together they ran with her down the twisting passage, her feet dragging on the floor, splatters of blood marking their trail. Two hundred yards later the passage narrowed and then opened again—this time revealing a cathedral-like chamber with a blank wall opposite them.
"Oh, no," Sparks said.
They placed Ulla on the floor, and Indy unbuttoned her shirt and took a look. Blood was gushing out of a bullet hole on the left side of her sternum.
Ulla looked up at him from beneath half-closed eyes.
"So you were lying when you said you weren't attracted to me," she quipped.
"Shhh," Indy said. "Don't try to talk."
Gunnar took off his sling and ripped it into strips, which he jammed beneath Ulla's blouse in a desperate attempt to stanch the flow of blood. Then he took off his bearskin shirt, rolled it in a ball, and placed it beneath her head.
"What kind of a chamber are we in?" Ulla asked. "It's brighter in here. And there are people on the walls."
Indy glanced around. The aurora glow was brighter in this chamber, and there were shadows on the walls that looked indistinctly like gargoyles.
"Indy," Sparks said.
"Not now," Indy snapped.
"There's a circle of stones in the floor here."
Gunnar took Ulla's hand, and then he nodded toward where Sparks was kneeling.
"I'll be right back," Indy said. "Don't go away."
There were five crystals in a circle of about a foot in diameter, but there were slots for six stones. The five stones in the slots were yellow, violet, blue, red, and green. The stone at the top of the circle was missing.
"What does it mean?" Sparks asked.
Indy reached for the piece of Icelandic spar on the leather strap beneath his shirt. He gave a jerk and snapped the thong, then held the stone up. It had turned from its original smoky color to a milky white.
Indy placed the stone in the vacant spot.
Nothing happened.
"What's it supposed to do?" Sparks asked.
"I don't know," Indy said impatiently. "But it must do something. Open a door, reveal another passage, something."
