by Various
At SHS headquarters, they dropped their ruckpacs by the door and Alec fished the faulty radiation gauge from his pack. Then they went in to report to Snow Supervisor Morley Wilson, known affectionately to his subordinates as "The Scourge."
The leather-textured face of the senior engineer turned up at them as they entered the office. Wilson's face was tanned and weather-beaten by the sun, wind and snows of a thousand mountains and it was rumoured that when he went up for annual physical examination, the lab merely ran pollution tests on the ice water that flowed in his veins instead of blood.
"I didn't expect you two back so soon," he said with a scowl. "What's the matter? Couldn't you get to the gauge?"
Alec laid the faulty device on Wildon's desk. "No trouble, boss. Just speedy work by your best juniors."
Wilson snorted. "You must have had the chopper land you on the ridge in spite of orders." He reached for the gauge. Troy and Alec exchanged smiles. The old man had received a full report of the conditions in the Sawtooths together with a check on their activities at least an hour ago. He knew what they had to contend with to switch the gauge--and he knew they knew he was just barking.
"Another one of the transmitters shot again," he muttered. Wilson punched the intercom on his desk. "Shiver," he called, "get up here and get this radiation gauge you said was so good."
In the communications repair section three levels underground, the senior comm tech snapped out a fast "yessir" and bolted for the door.
"What did you leave up there?" Wilson asked.
"We put a CS gauge thirty feet from the survey point," Troy said. "It was working fine and it's on a flat shelf with virtually the same pack and strata formation this one came out of."
"What's it look like up there," Wilson asked. The supervisor was nearing the end of forty years of service with Snow Hydrology and in his early days, the last vestiges of the crude "man-on-the-spot" surveys were still in operation.
Despite loud and emphatic defense and reliance on the new and complex techniques of electronic measurements, he still felt the need to feel the texture of the snows himself and to observe with his own eyes the sweep of the snow pack molded against the shoulder of a towering crag. Chained to the desk by responsibility, he used the eyes of his junior engineers and surveyors to keep a semblance of the "seat of the pants" technique of forecasting that he had lived with and lived by.
"The pack is good," Alec reported, "and what we saw of the south slopes is holding well. It was snowing from the time we got into the area until we pulled out this morning, so we didn't really get a long sighting. But what we saw looked fine."
The old man nodded with satisfaction. "You two go get out of that field gear and then report back here in an hour. We've got a staff conference and I want you two in on it." He dismissed them with a wave of his hand and went back to the reports piled on his desk.
In the locker room, Troy and Alec peeled out of the snowsuits and changed into street clothes. "I wonder what's in the wind," Troy asked thoughtfully. "Must be something big enough to bug the old man into brain-picking, otherwise he'd never stoop to juniors before making a decision."
"Probably just wants to set up next summer's vacation schedule," Alec grunted as he bent over to slip on his shoes. "You can bet that if it were something important, he'd never be concerned with the opinions of the likes of us."
* * * * *
An hour later they walked back into the supervisor's office to find it jammed with the heads of all sections together with leading techs and junior engineers. "Go next door and grab yourselves a couple of chairs," Wilson barked, "and then get back in here."
When the full staff was assembled, Wilson stood up and faced the group.
"This won't take too long," he began, "but it's a problem that I want all of you to be considering during the next fifteen days because we have to come up with a reasonable solution to the problem--just another one that's been dumped in our laps."
He pressed a button on his desk and a mural, three-dimensional typographical map of the five-state Region Six flashed on the wall behind him. Across the top of the map was a line of illuminated numerical panels that shifted in values before their eyes, changing with the factor information constantly being fed into the computers. These were the constant monitoring reports from the regional computers on snow pack, moisture content, streamflow, water consumption and other that formulated the equations that the forecasters and ration controllers user in determining water supply allocations.
Hundreds of multi-colored lights on the map indicated industrial, municipal, domestic and agricultural water use facilities.
"We've been asked to assist in the critical situation in Region Five," Wilson continued. "Region Five included California, Nevada, Arizona and Utah. As you've seen from the combined western forecasts, snow pack has been much below normal this year in Region Five and has for the past three years. We've been piping a lot of water down the line and so far, they've been able to meet demands. But a new factor has entered.
"For the past three years, again as many of you are aware, Space Department has been gearing for the start of Venus Colony. I'm not expert in this field but from what friends of mine who are closely associated with the project tell me, there's a big difference in building a vehicle to carry a survey and exploration team and the technology involved in building both vehicles and life-support equipment for a colony operation. All of which leads up to the current problem.
"Our friends in Space have now firmed up the specialized equipment they want and the quantities. Prototype of all of this gear have been built and tested, mostly fabricated by the Southern California Space and Electronics Complex. Now they're ready to go into production. But the fly in the ointment is that it calls for five new production units.
"With the Southern Cal Complex operating under water deficits plus transmission costs for the past three years and with no improvement in sight, they just don't have the water to handle five more major industrial units. Their population census is also up again. This means the units will have to be located somewhere else, possibly only until the production schedule is completed; possibly on a permanent basis if Venus Colony pans out. The trained manpower pool is in Southern Cal Complex and it will have to be displaced to wherever the units are located."
* * * * *
Wilson paused for a moment and looked around the room.
"I can see that you're way ahead of me. And you're right. We've been asked to make a projection to determine if we can handle them in Region Six, preferably in the Portland-Seattle Industrial Complex or near thereto."
He indicated a stack of bound manuscripts on his desk. "These are copies of the full prospectus of the proposed units; power output, equipment, manpower, water absorption, water return, domestic and municipal demands, et cetera, for the project.
"I want each of you to take a copy, study it in the light of your specialty, and then submit your recommendations to your department and section chiefs within the next ten days. The departmental and sectional reports will be consolidated for my study and then we'll make our report to Washington.
"But let me give you this parting thought to keep foremost in your consideration. In all probability, whether we agree to it or not, we're going to get stuck with the units. We have the most dependable water recharge in the nation and we have the physical space for the units. Dislocating and trying to relocate just the people involved in this project is a monumental thing in itself and would be a virtual impossibility east of the Mississippi. You can bet your last cent that this was all taken into account before Washington ever politely suggested that we review the situation and give our opinion.
"I don't think they give a damn about our opinions. They just want to see how lavishly they can operate with what we offer. So bear that in mind for my information. I need to know as close to the absolute last drop of moisture where this is going to put us and where we have to shut down and cut corners throughout the Region to accommodate the new industr
y.
"Now we're not going to get this solved or anything else done by my talking about it. Get out of here and back to work. You've got ten days to come up with the answer and you can expect to be saddled with the additional production units within one hundred twenty days. That's all gentlemen except to say that, as occurred when I asked you two years ago for a similar projection for the laser unit complex, I will not accept any solutions calling for a pogrom of all Anglo white Protestants between the ages of six and sixty."
The meeting broke up in laughter as the engineers crowded up to the desk to pick up copies of the prospectus.
Troy and Alec fell into step with Jordan Plumber, their section chief.
"One thing you have to admire in the old man," Alec commented, "he has faith in his staff to come up with the answers."
"Hm-m-m," Plumber sniffed, "he doesn't need faith. He's a realist from the old school. He knows that we have no choice and all that's left is to come up with a formula for living with the situation. It doesn't bother him a bit how we figure this one. He knows we have to work it out."
Back at their combination laboratory and office area, the trio split up to their respective cubicles to go over the report. Troy and Alec, as semispecialists in snow depth and moisture gauges, would study the problem from the viewpoint of increasing the accuracy and volume of their instruments in inventorying Region Six snowfall. Other members of the headquarters staff would tackle it from soil moisture content; stored water capabilities; increasing domestic, municipal and industrial water economies; while the meteorology men would venture even farther into left field via data, formula and Ouija board, to increase the potential future limits of their forecasts.
The key to the entire problem lay in streamflow forecasting. Accuracy in predicting the amount of water entering the vast underground reservoirs now had reached ninety-eight point three per cent. Yet in the remaining one point seven per cent was the equivalent of more than seventy-five million acre feet of water. The question now was--how much more water would the new units require and could the forecast be projected another tenth or more percentage points closer to supply than demand.
That was the basic problem. There were thousands of allied problems involved, ranging from where and how the additional water would be stored and channeled and how it could be used after the new factories had had initial use.
At 1630, Alec stuck his copy of the prospectus, together with some other more pressing reports, in his briefcase and headed for home. He stopped in the door to Troy's cubicle.
"You going to work all night?" he asked.
Troy swung his feet down from his desk and snubbed out his cigarette. "Nope," he replied, "but I thought I'd finish reading this before I shoved off. After all, I haven't got a section chief waiting for me at home with a stop-watch in hand to make sure I report in on time. All I have waiting for me at the apartment is a good, cold highball."
Alec grinned: "See you in the morning, doctor."
Troy swung his feet back up onto the desk and went back to the Southern Cal report.
In the parking lot, Alec found his little sport jet and fired up. He eased into the line of cars filing out of the headquarters compound and shot into the stream of homeward-bound traffic on the state expressway. The torrent of vehicles was moving along at an almost steady seventy miles an hour. Alec worked his way into the middle lane since he would be crossing the entire city to reach his apartment complex on the north side. The expressway roar turned into a hollow thunder as it threaded its way for five miles under the high NorCom Thruway that carried high speed traffic across and around the city.
Troy finished reading the prospectus about an hour later and then he, too, left the office. He drove to a small restaurant near Coeur d'Alene for dinner and then, yawning and tired from the night in the mountains and the work of the past two days, headed for his small bachelor apartment on the east side of Spokane.
He watched the vidicast for a half hour and then mixed a nightcap, downed it, bathed and piled into bed. He was sound asleep by 2000.
Across the city, young Jimmy Patterson played with his father, howled and talked his mother out of taking a bath and was put to bed. Alec and Carol curled up on the divan to watch the same show Troy was viewing. At 2030 they, too, were in bed and asleep. The sounds of the city were deadened by the high insulation construction of the building. Possibly half of the nearly three million residents of Greater Spokane were asleep in their beds shortly after midnight, but the other half were either at work or play when the earthquake hit.
There were three distinct and violent temblors, lasting from one to four minutes. The great buildings of the metropolis swayed, glass shattered and fell amidst the screams of frightened thousands. But the city was built to withstand fringe nuclear destruction and the damage was relatively light. The shocks rocked the entire Northwest and were felt from British Columbia as far south as San Francisco and east to Salt Lake City.
In his bachelor apartment, Troy was sprawled on the edge of his bed when the first shock wave struck. The shuddering, stomach-churning wave tossed him to the floor and a picture dropped to smash against the floor.
"What the hell," Troy exclaimed in shocked sleepiness as he tried to get up. The floor continued to sway under him. He got to his hands and knees and fought to orient himself and his thinking about what was happening.
His first thought was an explosion and he staggered toward the window. There was no sign of one. A minute later, the second and lighter tremblor hit and he grabbed for support.
Across the city Alec and Carol sat up wide awake during the last instants of the first jolt. Without a word and with a single mind, they rushed for the other bedroom to seize and comfort the frightened and crying Jimmy. They were clutching him closely when the second shock struck.
"It's a quake," Alec analyzed calmly, "nothing to be frightened about." He, too, walked to the window to see if there were outer signs of damage. When it looked fairly normal, he went back to the bed to help Carol calm the frightened child.
"Mother Nature is just shaking things into place a little," Alec told his son. "It's nothing to fear, old man. Come on, let's go out in the kitchen and get a cup of hot chocolate and then we'll all go back to bed."
Jimmy wiped his eyes and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. "Can I sleep in with you and Mom," he asked.
Alec ruffled the already mussed hair. "Sure you can, big fellow."
They went into the kitchen and Carol began making cocoa. Alec was fishing in the cupboard for the cookie jar when the vidiphone buzzed. He went to the wall and pressed the "Answer" button.
The worried face of Jordan Plumber snapped onto the screen.
"Alec," he said grimly, "get over to the office right away. All hell's broken loose."
"I'll be there as soon as I can dress," Alec said. "What's happened?"
"The quake has cracked the Spokima Reservoir. Right now we've already lost nearly a million acre feet and God only knows how much more is going out. Snap it up." The screen went blank.
Alec turned to Carol. Her face was ashy and she bit on a knuckle to fight for control.
He put an arm around her. "We'll manage it, baby. I've got to go." He turned and hurried from the kitchen to dress. At the door he paused and turned back. "Fill up every possible container you've got empty with water. Right now! Fill the bathtub and half the kitchen sink. Just use the other half for drain. And make every drop count. I don't know how long I'll be gone but I'm sure they'll be cutting the domestic water off any minute now."
* * * * *
Alec heard the wail of sirens in the distance as he climbed into his car. Threading his way onto the expressway, he switched the radio to standard broadcast band.
"... Is little damage reported," the voice of newscaster said in matter-of-fact tones. "Seismologists at the University of California and Seattle University have placed the epicenter of the quake within fifty miles of Pullman, Washington. We repeat, there has been little damage
and no reports of personal injury in the Spokane area. However, communications with the Pullman-Moscow, Idaho area have been temporarily disrupted. Early reports from the quake center seem to indicate possibility of heavy damage and possible injuries there. There is no confirmation at this time but stay tuned for details as they ..." the announcer paused, then continued. "Here is a bulletin just handed me from the Greater Spokane Municipal Authority.
"The quake has caused some minor damage to water mains in some areas in the city. Crews are now being dispatched to the scene to make repairs but in the meanwhile, domestic water supplies are being shut down while the repairs are in progress to conserve water supplies. Only emergency water line are being maintained for fire and disaster control. The Authority says water service will be resumed shortly and there is no need for alarm."
Alec shut off the radio and concentrated on the traffic. By the time he reached Regional headquarters, traffic flow was already increasing and he caught glimpses of family cars piled high with obviously tossed-in belongings, heading out of the city.
The gate to Region Six headquarters normally stood open twenty-four hours a day. Now it was closed as an armed security guard stopped him. The officer stooped and peered into the car. "Hi, Dr. Patterson, go right in." He waved to another guard on the gate and the portals swung open.
"What's the check for, officer?" Alec asked.
"I don't really know, doctor," the guard replied. "Must be something to do with the quake. All I know is that we got ordered to check all persons coming in and not allow anyone in who's not connected with the division." He waved Alec ahead.
Patterson parked his car and walked quickly to Snow Hydrology. He entered the offices to be struck by a bedlam of sound. Men were scurrying from cubicles, hands loaded with papers. Others were talking rapidly to distant vidiphone reporters. Alec skirted around one group huddled over some topographical maps and headed for his office.
