by Alton Gansky
The descent was the easy part of the “flight.” Hairy would melt its way down through layers of ice until it punctured the boundary of ice and liquid water. Then the difficult task of controlling the device began. She advanced the program until it was seconds away from breakthrough. That was the hard part, the challenge no one could anticipate. It was where she always failed.
No one knew what to expect. Did Vostok have currents? Surely it did. The temperature difference between surface water and deep, near-thermal water would move the water in a circular fashion, the warmer rising, the colder sinking. But there could be other factors yet unanticipated. It was in the unknown that danger lurked. There was the excitement and the frustration of field science. No matter how well one planned and practiced, the unexpected could blindside the most prepared. She was determined to be ready for anything and everything.
I wonder what kind of preparations Perry’s been making? she thought. There’s no doubt he’s thorough. She could tell that just by talking to—
The computer sounded an alarm, and the instruments froze. “What the—” Sarah studied the readings then realized she had let her attention wander and allowed the speed to increase to a rate faster than the winch could handle. She had broken the connection.
Good thing this is just practice, she said to herself as a feeling of embarrassment rose in her. Feeling like a schoolgirl, she was grateful that no one was around to see her blunder. She reset the program. I need to get Perry out of my mind.
She reset the computer and wondered if she would ever get it right. Instead of starting the program, she pushed away from the simple desk, rose, and left her monastic cubicle.
I wonder what Perry is doing?
Gwen James stood to one side as Perry, Jack, and several of the workmen struggled to erect the first of two tubular aluminum towers. The tower stood ten feet tall, was triangular, and held in place by four-foot lengths of rebar pounded deep into the ice. She watched the men grunt, struggle, lift, and push until the tower was exactly where they wanted it—a job made more difficult by the clean suits they wore.
Perry was in the middle of it all. She had assumed he would stand off shouting directions from a safe location, but he was clearly a man more comfortable when his own hands were involved in a task.
“I show level on this axis,” Gleason said.
“The bubble’s in the middle here,” Jack added.
“Let’s take a look,” Perry said, stepping back.
“It looks like a gantry for some kinda rocket,” Jack said.
“In a sense, it is,” Perry agreed. “Except we’re going down and not up.” He took several deep breaths, bent over, and placed his hands on his knees. “Growing old isn’t for sissies.”
Gwen smiled. Perry was far from old and, based on what she had seen over the last two hours, very fit. “How’s the head?” she asked.
Some people never adjusted to high altitude. For some, exertion at this altitude and temperature could be fatal. It was one reason she was hanging around. As the camp paramedic, she was responsible for everyone’s health—even that of the sometimes exasperating Perry Sachs.
“Not bad,” he replied. “The pain is almost gone, but this thin air makes me feel like I’ve just run a marathon.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Gwen asked. “Men have this weird sense of bravado.”
“I think she just said you were weird, Perry.” Jack flashed one of his famous smiles. Gwen could see that the big man was sucking in air by the barrelful.
“She wouldn’t be the first,” Perry said.
“This is all very sweet,” Griffin said. He had been standing a good distance away as if getting too close to physical labor might tarnish him. “But I still don’t fully understand. The tower is the support for the cryobot? It doesn’t seem strong enough. More to the point, how do you plan to load that thing on a vertical surface? It’s huge; it must weigh a ton.”
Gwen frowned at her brother. She loved him dearly, but more days than not, he was a serious pain.
“It does weigh a ton,” Perry explained. “Hairy is an amplification of a prototype. Sarah’s space-bound version is much smaller, but we wanted big, and big requires support. This tower is a secondary guide.”
“That doesn’t explain how you plan to lift such a heavy and awkward device,” Griffin complained.
“That’s why the world needs engineers and not just scientists,” Jack quipped. “We like heavy and awkward. It makes life interesting.”
“If you don’t have an answer . . .” Griffin prodded.
“We have more than an answer,” Perry said. “Follow me.”
Gwen watched as Perry released his workers for a well-earned break. They had worked in shifts day after day and hand in hand with the Seabees to erect the Chamber, unload equipment, and do work that Gwen’s degrees in biology had not equipped her to understand.
“You were eyeing him, weren’t you?” The voice came over the comm system in Gwen’s hooded suit. She turned to see Sarah standing just behind her.
“How long have you been here?”
“Just a minute. Long enough to note where your gaze was directed.”
Gwen returned her attention to the small group of men as they gathered around a large, plastic-wrapped wood crate. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“He’s a hunk and a half, isn’t he?”
“You mean Mr. Sachs?”
“Yes, I mean Perry. Don’t feel bad, I can’t get him off my mind either.”
Gwen started to object but remained silent. Each protestation that came to mind rang hollow. She felt warmth around her cheeks. “My brother has questions,” she said changing the subject.
“Your brother always has questions,” Sarah said. “Are they opening the tractor?”
“I don’t know. Griffin was asking about what they were going to use to lift the cryobot.”
“Oh good,” Sarah said with obvious joy. “I’ve only seen this on paper. Come on.” To Gwen’s surprise, Sarah took her gloved hand and began to tow her in the direction of the others. They arrived in time to see Perry, Jack, and Gleason prying off the lid of the wood container.
“This was fabricated by the boys at CAT,” Perry was saying.
“The company that makes the big tractors?” Griffin inquired.
“Exactly. They’ve customized things for us before. Our construction needs can be unique. We often rely on the engineering prowess of others. The people at Caterpillar are experts at blending heavy engines with heavy steel.”
“I’ll check the battery,” Gleason said. Sarah watched him move away.
Perry and Jack lowered the sides of the container to reveal an amorphous blob of plastic sheeting that formed a translucent cocoon. “Everything has been sanitized,” Perry explained, “even the heavy equipment.”
Gwen estimated the covered object to be as long as a car but not as high. She couldn’t see it clearly, but she was sure she had never seen anything like it.
Perry began stripping away the sheeting and, with Jack’s help, uncovered the mechanical beast.
“Where is Larimore when you need him?” Jack asked.
“His Seabees are loading the plane for its return trip,” Perry said. “Division of labor and all that.”
As the last sheet of plastic was removed, folded, and set aside, Gwen saw a strange device. It was painted a bright yellow and had a pair of two-foot wide tank treads. Unlike a tank, it had no true top to it. Instead, it was low and flat with its upper surface a scant thirty inches above the ice. Resting on the mechanism lay a tower similar to the one just raised by Perry and the others. Perry had a slight smile on his face. Gwen could see the pride he felt for the device.
“Shall I?” Gleason asked.
“Absolutely. Let’s see what this thing can do.” Perry stepped back as Gleason removed a box from its holder at the back of the tractor.
Perry looked at Griffin then at Gwen. Smiling, he asked, “Ever been
to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida?”
Both said they hadn’t.
“You should go,” Perry said. “There’s a lot to see. When the space shuttle is moved from the V.A.B. to the launch site, it is moved by a device like this, only much, much larger.”
“V.A.B?” Gwen asked.
“Vehicle Assemble Building,” Sarah said before Perry could reply. “The shuttle is moved to the launch site in a vertical position on the Mobile Launcher Platform.”
“Right,” Perry said. “It’s moved along a special road designed to hold the weight of the shuttle and its transport vehicle. We’re moving something much smaller, but we have to do it in a closed environment with little overhead space.”
“What do you call this thing?” Griffin wondered. He was frowning.
Jack answered. “After much soul-searching we’ve dubbed it ‘the Crane.’ ”
“Inventive,” Griffin said, shaking his head.
“It has flair, doesn’t it?” Jack said. “We could name it after you. How does the Griffin Grappler sound?”
“I think I’ll pass on that honor.” He turned to leave.
“You don’t want to see how it works?” Perry called after him.
“I’ll let you boys play with the toys; I’ve got some real research to do.”
He strode away. Even through his face shield, Gwen could see the exasperation on Perry’s face.
Chapter 6
Perry was exhausted, and his persistent headache was tightening the vise on his brain again. His body protested each movement. He was accustomed to physical labor. His father had made him work various construction sites all through high school. He was as happy driving a nail or operating heavy equipment as he was sitting at a drafting board and, more recently, a computer. He lived with the perpetual dissatisfaction that came with the sense that he was missing something. When sitting in an air-conditioned office, studying construction drawings for a large project, he felt cheated that he could not be in the field making it happen. When he was in the field doing hands-on work, he wondered if he couldn’t be more use reworking plans. He was seldom bored.
Ninety minutes before, Gleason had adroitly controlled the crane, moving it through the large space defined by the Chamber dome until he felt sure enough to try a lift. Electronics was Gleason’s forte, and Perry let him have full rein.
It was amazing to watch. The flat vehicle scooted smoothly along the ice, its treads leaving tracks in its wake. Perry had watched Gleason raise and lower the mast that would pick up Hairy and position it over the target area. The crane was designed like a mobile derrick with a steel mast hinged to the tractor base. The mast could be cantilevered over the front end of the base. To keep it from tipping while under load, a pair of hydraulic outriggers extended from the center structure. The outriggers had wide metal plates that served as feet and spread the load over a wide area.
Perry knew every inch of the design and the physics behind it, but he still stood in amazement as the ten-foot-long mast bowed like a gentleman until it was parallel with the ice-shrouded surface. Gleason had extended the boom over Hairy then activated a set of iron pinchers that wrapped around the cryobot as gently as a mother hugging her child.
Perry and Jack crawled around on hands and knees checking the boom’s grapples. Convinced the cryobot was not in danger, Perry gave the thumbs-up to Gleason, who sent the radio-control signal that would raise the boom. It rose at a pedestrian speed, and Perry had to work to quiet his impatience.
The sound of powerful electronic winches pulling steel cable through tackle at the end of the mast filled the dome. The dome’s concave surface amplified the sounds more than Perry expected. The noise of it reverberated in his bones. He could also feel the vibration in the ice. Five minutes later, Hairy was vertical, its nose pointed down. Gleason then guided the tractor to a spot opposite the fixed tower the men had raised earlier. It took several tries, but Gleason positioned it perfectly.
A new noise caught Perry’s attention—a noise he felt more than heard. The ice was vibrating in resonance to the sound. Perry knew what it meant, and as if confirmation were needed, Larimore’s voice came over the radio in Perry’s clean suit: “If you want to say bye-bye to your babies, you better jump to.”
Perry acknowledged the message and hustled to the air lock, where he changed into his outdoor gear. Five minutes later he jogged across the white surface to the aircraft that awaited him. He ran up the back ramp and wished each man on his crew a safe journey, thanking them for the sacrifices they had made to make the project a success so far. He then exited and watched with the rest of the team as the loadmaster raised the ramp.
“Did any volunteer to stay?” Jack asked.
Perry laughed. “Not a one. They all looked eager to get back to the home fires, snuggle with their wives, and play with their kids.”
“You’re just trying to bring a tear to me eye,” Jack said with a wink.
“And then there were eight,” Larimore said. “Our number has been cut by more than half.”
“They did their jobs,” Perry said. “Your Seabees broke a sweat even down here.”
“They’re good men,” Larimore said. “Every last one of them.”
Perry watched the large plane taxi away and then turn toward the wind. This had been part of the plan. Resources had been allotted for the work crew, but only for a few days, just long enough to set up the chamber, move cargo, help with equipment, and unload the three aircraft that delivered crew and freight. After that, the men weren’t needed; everything that remained could be done by the remaining eight. Fewer people meant fewer resources spent providing food and water and better use of the shelter. It also meant increased security and preserved secrecy.
Perry gave a brief wave even though the aircraft was now too far away for anyone on board to see. Still, the gesture made him feel better. He glanced at the seven others around him. Even Griffin James had come out to say farewell. It was a gesture borne not of civility but of shared understanding that leaving was just as dangerous as arriving.
The roar of the engines filled the frigid air and soon the plane was sprinting along the ice. Several long moments later it lifted into the air, its nose pointed at the cobalt sky.
“How’s it feel to be the only military man this far south?” Griffin asked. “You have no underlings to order about.”
Perry watched Larimore turn to face Griffin and prepared himself for more verbal fireworks. The passing days had done nothing to alleviate the stress that had been sparked the moment the two met.
“There are always underlings, Dr. James,” Larimore replied. “Always.”
“Don’t look at me, Commander,” Griffin shot back. “I’m no one’s inferior.”
“Shut up,” Gwen snapped at her brother. “That was uncalled for. You’re even starting to get on my nerves.”
Larimore shifted his eyes from Griffin to Gwen. He nodded politely. “It’s my turn to cook,” he said and began to walk away, then stopped. “Hey, Griffy, what kinda poison do you want in your stew?”
Perry shook his head. They needed Larimore because he was the on-site military liaison. Since the Pentagon had funded the project, they wanted someone on the scene who could give direct, eyewitness reports. For a moment, despite his admiration for Larimore, Perry began to wish the commander had been on the plane.
“My shift’s over,” Jack said. “I’ll help peel potatoes.”
Perry turned to Gleason. “Let’s finish the electrical hookup.”
“Right,” Gleason replied. “Sarah wants to do a sensor check as soon as possible. If things go well, we can start descent a little after dinner. If you’re ready, I mean.”
“I’m more than ready,” Perry replied, slapping Gleason on the shoulder. “My curiosity is killing me—”
The ice shuddered.
A second later a boom rolled over the camp.
Perry spun. It was a sensation he had felt before. Henry Sachs had taken Perry, then just tw
elve years old, to San Diego. Henry was there for meetings, but he saw it as an opportunity for father-son bonding. Perry waited by the hotel pool for his father to return from a meeting at the Naval Training Center in the heart of San Diego. As Perry hovered just above sleep, the lounge chair he sat in moved with a jolt. His first thought was earthquake, but nothing followed. Others around the pool murmured and looked around in bewilderment. Then Perry saw it: a short distance away, a rising plume of dense, obsidian black smoke.
His father arrived at the hotel an hour later than expected, and he brought with him the horrific story of a Boeing B-727 that had crashed not far away. That September day was still fresh in Perry’s mind, as was the thought of the 137 people who had died in the plane. Seven more had died on the ground, and two others in a Cessna 172 practicing approaches at Lindberg field. Perry never forgot the abrupt jolt he felt from the crash even though he was several miles away.
The jolt he had just felt was similar. Turning, he saw what he did not what to see: a column of smoke in the distance. For the briefest moment, Perry’s mind struggled with alternate explanations, but desperate as his mind was to avoid facing the hideous truth, it could not sweep away reality. There were no houses burning or forest fires because there were no houses or forests.
There was only one explanation. The C-5 had gone down and, unlike in San Diego all those years ago, there was no fire department, no military rescue, no anything.
Larimore and Jack sprinted back outside, both pulling on their parkas.
“What was that?” Jack asked.
Before Perry could respond, Larimore called it, “The plane . . . Oh, dear God, the plane went down.”
