from its holster and held it a while for no sane reason.
"Any more coming?" I asked nervously.
ALL SENSORS SHOW CLEAR, Hobart scrolled. Then added aloud, "But they were clear just before the cat attacked. Maybe it doesn't register on infrared." He knew that speaking aloud reassured me.
"Great," I muttered, holstering the Magnum. "Just great."
Returning to the search, I grabbed a handful of ivy and ripped it free but found only blank concrete underneath. The next handful uncovered a sign too faded with age to read. It took an hour, but I finally found the entrance to the power plant. The door was a metal oval like one of those watertight hatches in a submarine, with a rotating wheel-lock to open and close the
portal. Pretty smart. Flooding was a natural threat to the equipment of a dam and the designers seemed to have planned for the worst.
The wheel-lock was rusted solid. A short dose of the Screamer shook it loose, but Hobart still had to exert maximum force to turn the stubborn mechanism. The door loudly creaked in protest as it opened, and we slipped inside with only a small crest of overflow following in after us. Inside the floor was an open grate for a couple of yards, additional protection from flooding, and the water flowed down and away, gurgling along the dusty pipes. Beyond that was a plain terrazzo floor stretching along a dim corridor with vague doors on both sides. Hobart clicked on his halogen forehead lights, and I checked a few
of the doors to ascertain they were merely offices full of ancient paperwork.
The water coolers were full of dead mold, and skeletons lay sprawled on the desk tops, the yellow bones and tattered strips of clothing disintegrating into dust at the arrival of fresh air.
At the end of the corridor, we broke apart a turnstile way too small for Hobart to pass through and walked past a guard station full of more crumbling bodies. I said a silent prayer for the deceased technicians, and moved on.
Another corridor led to a locker room full of safety shoes and hardhats, but since I was already wearing superior protection, we didn't stop. A set of double doors swung easily aside and we walked onto the main floor of the hydroelectric power plant.
The room was gigantic, banks of exposed relays and busbars lining the far wall, another full of meters and countless circuit breakers. Dominating the center of the plant were tremendous humps of metal rising meters high, each surrounded by an iron pipe railing marked with bright black and yellow warning
stripes. Those were the outer housings of the main generators sunk into the thick concrete floor. Big stuff, but then it was built to supply power to whole cities. A tiny dust devil danced along the floor from the breeze of our entrance, but nothing else stirred.
"Look at this place," I snorted in disgust. "Every piece of machinery and equipment is coated with cobwebs the size of the Kingdome."
SURE HATE TO MEET THE COB THAT MADE THOSE.
"Oh hush," I said, turning around to glance over the dead plant. The silence was almost deafening, not even the thundering waterfall could be heard. For one terrible moment, I had a flashback to being inside my cryogenic freezer, but shook it off.
"I wonder if this place has ever been discovered before?"
IF NOT, THEN IT'S OUR PROPERTY BY RIGHT OF SALVAGE.
"Possession is nine-tenths of the law," I agreed wholeheartedly.
"The other tenth being firepower," Hobart said aloud.
"Sad, but true."
Corrugated metal stairs led to a catwalk on the next level. Behind a dusty expanse of plexiglass was the main control room. Bingo. The door was locked, but Hobart simply turned the handle anyway until the sheath of the spindle cut through the bolt and we entered without any trouble.
"Child's play," I grinned.
EASY AS 3.14159!
The control room looked like the inside of Dr. Frankenstein's castle in those old black and white movies. There were dozens of consoles, monitors, gangbars, dials, lights, indicators, buttons, levers, keyboards, and a bazillion switches filling the control panels on three walls.
"Where do we begin?" I asked helplessly. I could change a fuse in a car, or replace a circuit breaker in a house, but this was totally beyond my experience.
Hobart walked to a control panel and deftly removed the cover to expose its complex nest of colored wiring.
WE START HERE.
***
High above the small mountain lake, a stone ledge extended from the face of a cliff like the hand of a beggar. Several canvas tents formed an arch around a small campfire, the low flames warming an iron pot of leftover stew.
Dressed in light plate armor and chainmail, a dozen warriors stood guard around the campsite, their hands tight on the pommels of their swords, a lone woman with a scarred face cradling a crossbow in her metal clad arms. There was no conversation, no jokes or casually banter. The knights stood alert, wary of danger, but their hard faces were bright with eagerness. This was the valley, as foretold by the soothsayers of old. They were close. Oh so very close to total victory.
Inside the largest tent, a lone knight sat in a glided chair, hunched over a table covered with ancient maps. Unlike the others outside, this noble was dressed in heavy plate armor, his greeves and armbursts gleaming with gold filigree. A two-handed broadsword hung at his hip, and a plasma pistol rode in a specially rigged shoulder holster. About his waist was the intricate weaving on a Shadow Age forcefield belt, its power indicator dark at the moment.
His hair was long, and ebony black with dapper wings of silver at the temples. A clean tableau was draped over his wide shoulders, the clean white length of cloth decorated with the symbol of his order, a red square with an unbalance scale in the center. There was no personal, or family crest. The Knights of Genetic Purity considered all humans to be family. Everybody else was the enemy.
Without fanfare, the flap to the tent was thrown aside and an excited young knight burst in, dropping to one knee.
"My liege!" he spoke to the floor, a hand on his heart. "The monitors have registered a weapons-grade power surge."
Calmly, Sir Gregor Matheson continued to peruse the centuries old maps and charts. "Source," he said as a question.
"A megawatt laser, my liege. Possibly a poly-cyclic military design."
Matheson glanced up from his reading. "Is...is it the Great One?" he asked nervously. By the Holy Makers, if the ancient warrior had been awoken by others, it could be the end of Humanity! The Iron Society wanted to unleash the relic on the detested Humans as much as the Knights of Genetic Purity
wanted to unleash it upon the hated mutants.
"Thankfully, no, my liege," the warrior said, daring to face his high commander. "It is nowhere near powerful enough to be the relic we seek, or his lost brothers."
Matheson exhaled in relief. "Good." Yet, an energy weapon being fired in this peaceful valley was unusual and could be trouble. "Can you track the origin of the pulse?"
He gave a head shake. "No, my lord. I would need two more readings to triangulate a location."
"Then keep the monitor manned day and night. After so many years of searching, this could be our key to finding the relic."
"Yes, milord!"
"And we're going to find that hidden dam," Sir Matheson angrily growled under his breath, returning to his studies. "Even if I have to slaughter every living thing for a hundred kilometers."
***
Hobart and I worked through the night, following cables, and using the laser on its weakest setting to solder connections that looked weakened with age, or were coated with corrosion. By midnight we had an answer; the feeder pipes were open, the water now flowing through the dam, instead of over the top, and
the secondary turbines were turning freely. Unfortunately, two of the generators were trash, but the third was working fine, spinning merrily, every light in the green, the polyphase inducers were, ah, well, polyphasing, I guess. Only there was no power coming out of the transformers. Every dial was on zero, not even the faintest flicker on the main gau
ges.
"What did we miss? Must be a break in the line somewhere," I said wearily, fighting back a yawn. Lord, I missed coffee.
CHECKING, Hobart scrolled, a side monitor in his helmet coming into glowing life. The screen was flashed with an endless display of circuit diagrams. AH! THE REDUNDANCY SYSTEMS SAY THERE IS A MISSING SECTION OF CABLE BETWEEN THE GENERATOR AND THE TRANSFORMER.
"Fine. Let's replace it."
CAN'T. WE DON'T HAVE ANY REPLACEMENTS.
"Okay, we rip some out of the dead generators and splice them to the transformer. Shazam! Fixed," I suggested hopefully, feeling the dream of the dam slipping away rapidly.
NO GOOD, WRONG GAUGE. WE NEED HIGH VOLTAGE CABLE TO HANDLE THE LOAD AND LOTS OF IT. TWENTY METERS.
Sixty feet? And we had been so close fixing this thing. Unlimited electricity, that would save so many lives, end so much misery and pain. I'd be damned if sixty feet of anything was going to stop us now! Think, Montgomery, think!
Listening to the turbines muffled whine, I ran through a dozen possibilities in my mind before coming up with a winner. "Hey! What about those high tension power lines that carry the electricity to distant cities! Could those handle the load?"
There was a pause. YES! LET'S GO SEE IF ANY ELECTRICAL TOWERS ARE STILL STANDING OUTSIDE.
Exiting the power plant, I walked to the edge of the dam and studied the valley below through the main monitor. With the lake pounding through the sluice gates, the roadway was now dry and safe to use again. Nothing much was in sight, but the pool at the bottom of the dam, a stream created by the overflow, and some small hillocks covered with evergreen trees. High above us
in the nighttime sky, the Seven Sisters raged their endless warfare, the last orbiting battle satellites silently attacking each other with lasers, the colorful beams slashing across the stars in the pyrotechnic fury of high tech combat.
"Pretty," I muttered. "And so pointless."
YEP. PRETTY POINTLESS.
"Well said."
Down here on Earth, the woods were dark and still. A distant river was visible off to the west meandering through the twisted ravine of a nukequake crack, and a thin curl of smoke rose to the east. Hmm, that could be a village. Nice to have potential customers so close. That is, if we ever get this behemoth back into operation.
A night breeze blew through the hole in Hobart and the air smelled wonderful. Smog was a thing of the past and the air was almost primordially clean. I tried to recall what pollution smelled like and drew a blank. Gone, like my family and friends, even the smells of my time period were gone forever.
"Well, no towers on radar," Hobart said aloud. "Looks like this whole thing may be a bust."
"You give up too easily," I replied, pointing into the distance. "See that smoke? Must be a village. Maybe they salvaged the cables from the towers. Folks always need copper to make bullets."
MAYBE. BUT IT IS A LONG SHOT, AT BEST.
"Have to start looking somewhere," I answered, this time allowing the yawn full freedom. "But we'll begin in the morning. I'm bushed."
WHAT ABOUT MY HOLE?
"We'll fix it tomorrow," I said, trundling back inside and closing the heavy door. "We can fix everything tomorrow."
Going to the control room, Hobart deflated his interior cushions, and cycled apart, his domed helmet rising and angular chest plates spreading wide on telescoping rods of burnished steel. Gratefully stepping free, I stretched my back and worked a few kinks out of my muscles. Riding in powerarmor was not
like riding in a car. It was a lot more work than I would have ever imagined. Still better than walking, though.
Dinner was hobo stew, dried meat and veggies from my rations pack dumped into a bucket of lake water and brought to a boil by Hobart's all-purpose laser. It was edible. Food brought a burst of energy and I rummaged around in the repair kit until locating a roll of duct tape, and laid a strip over both sides of the tentacle hole.
"Nice and tight," I beamed with pride. "What do you think?
THAT I'M GOING TO WHISTLE IN A HIGH WIND.
"Complain, complain."
Removing my sneakers and socks, I laid down in my bedroll and slept soundly in the control room, the great machines vibrating softly through the floor, my pal standing a vigilant guard through the night. Oddly, my dreams were hectic, full of warfare and I awoke feeling even more tired than when I went to sleep. Living in Gamma Terra would give anybody nightmares, but these had been different, strange haunting visions that left me with an uneasy feeling of dread. Probably just exhaustion, that was all. Nothing more.
After a brisk wash and careful shave, I took a much needed opportunity to rub down Hobart's interior with the bag of sweet herbs I kept to remove my own stink.
"If your Life Support system worked better," I grunted, vigorously rubbing down the cushions, and especially the armpits of his sleeves. "Then I wouldn't have to do this. People sweat, you know."
HOW INCONVENIENT. YOU REALLY SHOULD TALK TO THE MANUFACTURER ABOUT THAT DESIGN FLAW.
Computers! Covering the door to the power plant as well as we could, Hobart and I walked into the forest and started down the steeply sloping side of the mountain. Progress was tricky, and it took a few hours before we reached the valley floor intact. Walking along the banks of the stream, evidence of the
Cataclysm was everywhere. A lot of the plants were mutated, white birch thick with apples on the branches, and several of the nameless flowers seemed to turn their petals to watch us pass. It might have only been my imagination, but the
action was unnerving.
After a few miles, the stream fed into a raging river with a dilapidated iron bridge spanning the rough waters. The structure looked about as strong as a politician's promise. As we started across, the whole structure shook and several pieces sprinkled into the river below. I quickly raced back onto firm
ground again, and caught my breath.
"I've had fun before," I croaked, "And this ain't it."
NO WONDER THE DAM WAS UNDISTURBED, Hobart scrolled in amusement. WHO WOULD CROSS THIS THING?
"Nobody sane."
LEAVES US OUT, PAL.
"No way we are ever going to make it across this," I stated firmly. "Unless we fix it."
ALLOW ME.
Hobart took control of the laser and started firing short bursts of high-intensity beams at medium aperture. At every strike, the rusty steel glowed white hot and a spray of sparks erupted. He stopped after a few minutes and announced it was now safe.
Yeah, right. But when I tried a step, the structure did not quake or jiggle. Solid as a rock in amber. We reached the other side without incident and continued walking towards the hoped-for village. The day passed quietly, then Hobart froze, his scanners blinking wildly. After a while, he moved
onward.
"Trouble?" I asked tensely, scrutinizing the bushes for any hostile activity.
COULD HAVE SWORN WE WERE BEING PROBED WITH SENSORS FOR A MOMENT, he scrolled anxiously. BUT IT'S GONE NOW. COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THE SEVEN SISTERS CHECKING ITS ALTITUDE.
Maybe. I glanced around and saw nothing but lush trees and the majestic mountains of the northwest coast. One in particular had an odd ledge sticking out of its side like a waiter asking for a tip, but the angle was wrong and I couldn't see if anything was up there. Cycling open Hobart for a minute, I passed through my Magnum and he tucked the big bore weapon into the leather belt that held the rest of our tools. It wasn't much, but better safe than sorry and all that jazz.
It was later afternoon when I started to see log cabins in the middle of fields filled with growing crops. Then a few prewar houses, roofs sagging with rot. Suspicious homesteaders watched us clump by with hands clutching axes and rifles for protection.
"Good morning!" I called out giving a cheery wave.
"Just keep moving, ticktock," a grizzled farmer stated, working the bolt of his 30.06 hunting rifle.
Ah well, couldn't really blame him. Hobart was eight feet tall and four fee
t wide of armor plating and louvered joints, with a pistol in his belt and a rocket launcher strapped to his back. Of course we had no rockets, but that was hardly common knowledge. "We must look quite formidable to a man with a
gun," I said, with a shake of my head.
HEY, A THING OF BEAUTY IS A JOY FOREVER.
The farms and houses started appearing closer together, and we passed a converted post office where a lovely young woman in a tight dress threw open the door to gesture us inside.
"Come and be welcome," she smiled, a greenish glow from somewhere in the house clearly visible in the bright daylight. "All are welcome into the Holy Light."
No thanks! Hobart kept moving and she followed after us for a good mile, begging for us to come in for just a moment. Finally, we took off at a jog and quickly outran her.
"Buddy, I have no idea what that was glowing in her house," I stated resolutely. "And want nothing to do with it in any way."
DITTO.
Soon, the dirt road showed signs of heavy traffic, deep gullies cut into the soil from wheeled vehicles. Then the surface of the road smoothed out and I could see there was gravel pounded into dirt to make it more resistant to the hard
summer rains, a few sections were actually paved for short distances. Civilization was near.
The road became cracked asphalt, and uneven sidewalks returned, telephone poles standing in mute testimony of ancient days, the wires long gone. The village was the usual collection of crude huts and ancient ruins standing side by side in a wild mixture of architectural styles. People stopped whatever they were doing to watch us pass, often gripping their weapons until we were around the corner.
FRIENDLY PLACE.
I agreed. There was a plastic sign nailed to a phone pole which listed the town as 'Battle Ground'. Nice name. And in the middle of the town stood a wooden watch tower, a brass alarm bell hanging from its rafter. A grizzled human with binoculars stood guard, a plasma rifle cradled in her hands.
"Don't know if that Shadow blaster still works," I muttered, watching her on a side monitor. "But that is one a serious threat."
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