Expedition Beyond Read online

  He said, “I think your man is fine because he has air and water, and he has light—and where there is light, there is life.”

  “Why?” John asked.

  “Why, what?” Anderson was marveling at his creation. The picture appeared to float above the board.

  “Why is there light?”

  “Thought you would never ask.” Anderson made an oblong circle around the rest of the equations. “This is the answer.”

  John looked dumbly at the circled formulas and equations.

  “A magnificent presentation, Anderson; you ought to think about art as a profession. Look, you’ve baffled me with science, but you still haven’t answered my question: Are the platforms doomed?”

  Anderson reached into the globe and circled “the core” in yellow and drew squiggly lines from it in a 3-D effect. He moved one end of the blackboard, and his Earth turned. “Welcome to my world,” he announced.

  John tried to get his bearings. “Wait a minute. That’s not right.”

  “What’s not right?”

  “What you said about falling. You said we didn’t need any platforms because a man could simply fall from the surface to the inside, to your yellow circle. Bill threw a bird down, and it returned to the interface.”

  Anderson finally turned from admiring his own illustration and asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “When we were on Level Ten, Bill threw a bird down the shaft, and we watched it return on his computer monitor, at least partway.”

  “Let’s see...Level Ten. That would be about here.” Anderson drew a three-dimensional platform. “How far did the bird fall?”

  “It went off the screen at one thousand kilometers, but then it came back. It kept bouncing back and forth around one thousand, and then it disappeared.”

  Anderson followed the tangential line and drew a small, ball-like bird in the interface.

  “Could that bird have ended up here, between both zero gravities, lost in the void? If it had started its descent from the surface, the bird would have ended in the interior. Now, you want to know if the platforms will be sucked into the vortex they have created? As the vortex moves upward and pressure increases, yes, I think they will—beginning with the one Bill’s on. An hourglass effect has been created that increases pressure until the obstruction is removed. When the first platform fails, it functions like a vacuum piston, pulling the others with it, like dominoes.”

  “When?” John asked, hoping for enough warning to evacuate people.

  Anderson smiled. “That’s what the probe will tell us.”

  John had thought the probe was to find out what was past the suction, but apparently Anderson already knew what was next.

  Of course, Anderson could be wrong.

  John reconnected with Bill. Anderson linked his laptop computer to the phone. Numbers immediately began streaming across the monitor, so the probe seemed to be working perfectly. For over an hour, Anderson directed Bill to move the probe slowly up and down through the vortex while he recorded the findings on paper.

  Finally, Anderson announced that he had enough information and hung up the phone. He erased the equations from the board and wrote new equations, using numbers from his computer. Point of maximum intensity equals force...total force to move five thousand kilos...total change in force between readings...extrapolate to future force.

  “You’re good for three weeks, possibly four, unless acceleration in force changes, but I don’t think it will. By then you better have all your men out,” Anderson said when he finished.

  He wiped clean both boards, folded up his computer and started clearing books off the table.

  “So what should we do?” John asked.

  Anderson said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m leaving to meet with astrophysicists at Harvard who want me to explain my world.”

  John asked, “So what is in the core?”

  “Why, don’t you see? Dark matter colliding with matter and converting into radiant energy. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a need for the Vents.”

  Chapter 31

  LATITUDE 68° 42’ NORTH

  LONGITUDE 89°41’ WEST

  Month 3, Day 11; 1600 UTC, 10:00 AM LTD

  Mitch finished his morning exercises, showered, then sat on the foot of his bed in his t-shirt and shorts, thoroughly bored. He had already seen everything within walking distance in Pelly Bay. He’d stayed out of touch with the rest of the world in case his telephone calls were being monitored.

  He could make his daily trip to the store for groceries. Donuts and milk were in low supply. He put on his fur coat and left the motel room.

  The walk was the same as it had always been, except this time he saw two Inuit children sitting on the boardwalk near the entrance of the grocery store. Next to them were a large Malamute and a Brawny paper towel box. On the box was written: “Free to good home.” From the kids’ patched clothing, Mitch guessed money was an issue at home.

  “What do we have here?”

  Mitch sat on the boardwalk step and scooped up one of the five husky puppies. The mother dog put her paws in Mitch’s lap. He patted her head, her tongue lolled while she panted.

  “You need a good puppy?” the boy asked.

  “I’m headed somewhere that dogs aren’t allowed. How old are you?”

  “Thirteen. My sister’s only eight.”

  His sister scowled.

  “My name’s Mitch, but don’t tell me your name—you should never tell that to a stranger. I saw working dogs at Denali with legs as big as a man’s arm.”

  “Neat.” The boy was apparently the pair’s self-appointed spokesperson.

  “Yup. One dog could pull a sled with two riders.”

  Mitch played with the puppies and entertained the children with stories for more than two hours.

  He finally bade the children farewell, went into the store and picked through aisles laden primarily with canned goods. As he left, he noticed a man standing next to the children, so he didn’t stop.

  Back in his room, he’d scarcely had time to pour a glass of milk when the telephone rang.

  When he answered, Fishand said, “I do hope you are enjoying our lovely country and our fine hospitality. Your check has not cleared yet.” When Mitch didn’t reply, he continued, “But I do have a bit of news for you. I called your company headquarters and talked to…let’s see, Sally. Do you happen to know Sally?”

  Again Mitch didn’t respond, though he was grinning with secret glee.

  “Well, we had a nice conversation and do you know what Sally told me? She said that your company doesn’t care who we send with you as your guide. I even mentioned Bearters, and she said that would be fine with them. Now, what do you think about that?”

  “Not Bearters,” Mitch said tightly.

  “Well, it means you were telling a little white lie, weren’t you?”

  “No.”

  Ignoring him, Fishand said, “So, the council has met again, and we concluded Bearters is the one. Please, do try to get along. Bearters is not a bad fellow, and he is loyal to me, so don’t try anything out of line.”

  “The deal’s off,” Mitch said, keeping the smile from his face so it wouldn’t show in his voice.

  “You don’t want to be hasty because, regardless, we are keeping the proceeds. One more thing: The bank has validated that funds are available for this check to clear, so while we are waiting, I would like your company to fly up this helicopter you’ve talked about so that I can personally inspect it. One wrong thing, and I call off—the deal and in such a case, I have the right to keep the money. Understood?”

  “I understand,” Mitch growled.

  “Have a nice day.” Fishand hung up.

  Mitch was delighted that his plan was working. He dialed a telephone number and code.

  “Bo
ster Denton, how may I help you?”

  “Sally Searsport, please.”

  “One moment.”

  “Hi Sally, it’s Mitch.”

  “Where have you been? A man called and asked about you yesterday.”

  “Sally, open the bottom drawer of your desk. In the back, you’ll find an envelope.”

  “Just a minute. Got it.’”

  “Please open it and follow the instructions inside. This is really important.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he hung up, then dialed another number.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you? I’m on a business trip up north to collect the stuff we left behind.”

  “You be careful!”

  “Oh, I will. What have you been up to?”

  “I found a new friend.”

  “Really! What’s he like?”

  “His name’s Harold. I met him at church. He’s wonderful! Tall, handsome; he plays golf. He takes me out to dinner at least twice a week—fancy restaurants, not greasy spoons. I want you to meet him; this could be serious!”

  “When I get back, it’s a date.”

  “Any girls in your life?”

  “No, Mom.”

  Mitch’s last girlfriend had been five years ago, but his mother never gave up hope, even if Mitch had.

  “You’re not getting any younger.”

  “I know.”

  “You have to work on relationships.”

  They talked for over half an hour before Mitch said goodbye, now with melancholy overlaying his boredom and loneliness. He knew he would never talk to his mother again.

  He wadded up a hundred-dollar bill, draped his fur coat over his shoulders and walked back to the store.

  The kids and the puppies were still there.

  “This is Sally Searsport calling from Boster Denton. I have an important message for Colonel Wingert.”

  “This is he.”

  “How can I be sure?”

  “Mitch told you to call me, so he must trust you.”

  The man knew who had written the message. “I’m supposed to read this to you word for word.”

  “Go on.”

  “It says: ‘Hook, line, and sinker. Sir, with all due respect, please tell Lieutenant Mallory to get the fuck up here. Operation Scorpion is underway.’”

  “Is that all?” the colonel asked.

  “Yes, that’s it.”

  “Shred it.”

  “What?”

  “Shred the note, the envelope, and anything else that was with it. Mitch’s life depends on it.”

  As she cradled the receiver, she heard the colonel say to someone, “The clock starts now.”

  Chapter 32

  LATITUDE 82° 10’ NORTH

  LONGITUDE 73° 42’ WEST

  LAPTITUDE 68%

  Month 3, Day 12, 2200 UTC

  Countdown: T-minus twelve days: five hours: thirty minutes: five seconds

  Des knew that, except for him, only those with Anasazi blood had been invited.

  They gathered around the bonfire. Itar sat in his litter flanked by his guards. Anastasia, standing across from Itar, wore a simple yellow tunic and feathered headband. The flame illuminated half her face.

  Des lowered his head to the chopping block; Alée raised her hatchet above his neck. The nearly one hundred people in attendance fell silent.

  Alée screamed and her hatchet thudded into the wood.

  Adeyo and his woman began drumming wildly as both warriors and men danced. People brought earthenware pitchers and trays piled with food to tables; the guests began feasting.

  Des picked up the locks of his hair that Alée had severed and presented them to the girl who had sold him sandals. She braided his hair with locks previously cut from Anastasia. Des waited patiently as the girl worked. When she finished, she adorned the braid with two small feathers—the Anasazi symbol for wings.

  Des offered the braided hair to Anastasia, but she shook her head in silent refusal. She hadn’t moved since the ceremony began. He returned to the chopping block and placed the ring next to the braid. He noticed the others behaved as though he and Anastasia didn’t exist.

  Adeyo whooped.

  Des felt charged with excitement. He knew he would have to dance for her to accept him.

  The drums stopped, then Adeyo began anew with a somber beat that quickened.

  Des began dancing near Anastasia, first in a classic solo Tango, practiced and timed with Adeyo’s drums, but then Des’ dance degenerated into male stripper moves that April Adams had once taught him.

  The warriors were now watching him. Des was perspiring, so he removed his shirt. The warriors appeared enthralled as he continued to bump and grind.

  Anastasia cupped her hands over her eyes and mouth, laughing.

  Des lifted a full pottery vase from the table; it had two handles and two spouts. Anastasia drank from one spout, then he drank from the other. Des turned the vase and repeated the ceremonial toast. Finally, they drank together, not spilling a drop.

  The bubbles raced over his tongue and down his throat, bringing a familiar flavor.

  “What is this?” Des asked her.

  “It is elandra. The men make it.”

  Des realized it was beer—and pretty good beer at that. So, they weren’t teetotalers after all.

  Des was handed a tarpaulin; he offered an edge to each of the women as he moved around the bonfire. Many accepted. They stretched the cloth among them, then laid it flat on the ground.

  Anastasia stepped onto the center with a wide smile. The women hoisted her up as they chanted; then they flung her skyward in time to the beat—higher and higher.

  When Adeyo stopped drumming, the warriors released the tarpaulin. Des caught Anastasia as she fell. He thought a frenzied outburst would erupt, but everyone was silent, their faces grim. As he helped Anastasia to her feet, Des saw why.

  Rawool stood with his foot on the chopping block, his moccasin covering the braided hair, while his followers milled in the shadows. He flexed his biceps.

  Des said to Rawool, “Let’s get this over with.” Then in Anasazi, “You want to fight for her?”

  “Abba,” said Rawool. He walked to Des, spit on the ground, then pulled on Anastasia’s arm.

  “Yi, yi, yi, yi, yi!” Des screamed. He leaped at Rawool and jerked his hand off her. “Don’t you ever touch her, do you hear me?”

  Rawool twisted Des’ arm and flipped him down.

  Des groaned as his back connected with the dirt, but he was quick to recover his footing.

  The two men squared off and circled. Rawool kicked towards Des’ head, but Des dodged the blow.

  Des turned his back, hearing murmurs from those around the cracking fire. Rawool grabbed Des’ wrist, but Des spun around and kicked his rival in the solar plexus, followed quickly by a Judo chop to the carotid artery and pressure on both of Rawool’s temples. Des knew from martial arts class that this combination would overload his opponent’s autonomic nervous system and send his blood pressure crashing downward.

  Rawool wobbled and fell. He quickly regained somatic muscular control, then rolled up and crouched, displaying a knife. He smiled and puckered his lips in intimidation, then flexed again.

  “Not here,” Des said.

  He walked into the fire. As the flames rose above his head, Des concentrated on maintaining a surrounding coolness, but he still felt his legs begin to burn. Through the fire he saw Rawool sweating, so Des reemerged to confront him.

  “We fight in the fire,” Des said, pulling Rawool forward with one hot hand.

  Rawool dropped his knife and backed away in amazement. Where Des had held him, his skin began to blister.

  Rawool looked at Anastasia with a pained expression, then he turned and left without speaking.

>   Des’ legs began to throb. “Anybody else?”

  Rawool’s following faded away.

  Anastasia walked to the chop-block and picked up the braided hair. She had accepted him as her husband.

  Adeyo’s drums began to thunder, and warriors and men started shouting chants.

  Des slipped the ring on Anastasia’s finger.

  Anastasia slipped one arm from under her tunic. Then Itar unsheathed Des’ sword and carefully slit the skin over both Des’ and Anastasia’s shoulders.

  Des clasped Anastasia’s hand tightly; they held the two wounds firmly together shoulder to shoulder as their blood mixed and dripped into the bonfire.

  Des’ scorched legs were still throbbing when they got home two hours later, so he felt simultaneously ecstatic and brutalized. He tried to ignore the pain, but was unable to sequester the sensation enough to hide his discomfort.

  “You need to clean wounds,” Anastasia said, inspecting his legs.

  “I know,” Des answered.

  He got undressed and sat in the bathtub, where the cool water eased the burns.

  “Share?” he said to Anastasia.

  “What is—“ Anastasia smiled faintly. “I know share.”

  Soon she was wearing nothing but her ring, and was rubbing soothing emollients over his body. Des winced and groaned, but the pain from the blisters diminished. Eventually, Des pulled himself out of the tub and dressed in a fresh tunic.

  Anastasia pulled her tunic over her head and eyed him sympathetically. “I need to get medicine.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No,” she said, and left.

  He waited for her outside, where the air was cool and the breeze felt pleasant on his legs. There was only a hint of rain. He was thinking how marvelous it would be to spend his life with Anastasia when he saw her coming towards him with large leaves folded over her arm. He felt overwhelmed by her beauty.