by Jerry
“You’re crazy!” Mason flared up. “You’re so wrong. You’ll never convince anyone in authority of that because it isn’t true. Now, put on this blindfold, or you might not get back outside again—”
Red lights suddenly flashed from concealed places in the walls, and two burly men in uniform came dashing down the corridor to them.
“The girl’s lost!” one of them cried, out of breath. “She jumped out of the snowtaxi, halfway to the station; she was out of sight before we could get out the searchlights.”
Ted’s stomach turned over at the thought of Carla undergoing the agonies of the arctic cold. Mason paled, and ordered: “Get flares, quick. And guns. Who else can help to search?”
“No one’s available,” the other man said. “We checked that before coming here. That storm-center over eastern Canada needs so much attention that all the men are—”
“Shut up!” Mason turned to Ted, and snapped: “Do you feel well enough to help hunt?”
Ted nodded. Suprisingly spry, Mason made a dash down the corridor, the blindfold forgotten. Ted followed him at a run, paying no attention to the bulletin boards and offices that lined the walls.
Someone thrust a rifle into Ted’s hands at the outer gate and helped him to fasten his heavy clothing. Mason was ordering: “Turn on the neon tubing all along the fences.”
A guard at the gate pulled a switch obediently. Then Ted was clambering into a snowtaxi, larger than one he had burned, and Mason was instructing him; “It’s still four hours to dawn. This snowtaxi leaves a luminous trail on the snow that will show you the way back until dawn, and the lights on the fence will help you keep your bearings. There’s just about enough fuel to last until dawn. Come back when the sun’s rising, even if you haven’t found her.”
FOLLOWING instructions, Ted kept the snowtaxi’s compass on a red mark, between southeast and east, to reach the outer gate. He was not even forced to slow at that gate, the guard swinging it open as he sped up.
Ted could see the phosphorescent-like trail that the snowtaxi had made on its previous trip out, when it had started to take Carla to the station. He followed the thin lines, straining his eyes as the northern lights flared and dimmed the marks on the snow. Through the rear view mirror, he could follow the brighter trail that his own vehicle was leaving.
Ted wondered about the purpose of the gun, while following the trail. Did the men in the station think that highwaymen might kidnap Carla in the middle of this wilderness?
The trail he was following suddenly veered sharply, about five miles out; that would be the point at which Carla had escaped from her escort. Ted braked the vehicle, clambered cautiously out, and looked around. His eyes had accustomed themselves slightly to the weird light of the aurora, and his body was warmed by the heated vehicle.
“What would I do if I were trying to shake off those men, like Carla?” Ted asked himself. Hiding would be her first thought, he believed. But there wasn’t any promising hiding-place amid the gently-rolling snow-fields.
Ted climbed back in the vehicle, began to cruise about slowly, playing the searchlight in every direction, and leaving a brilliant flare at the point of Carla’s escape. It took him only a minute to find the footprints.
They were made by boots, and must be Carla’s, he realized. He shouted her name a couple of times, but everything around was silent.
Ted followed the footprints carefully, leaning out of the side door of the vehicle to watch them. Smaller markings ran alongside of them, and Ted wondered where Carla had found a stick in this wilderness to help her progress.
The bootprints were growing larger now, but more of the smaller marks were joining them, myriads of them.
Suddenly above the noise of the wind he heard a human’s voice. It was a shout, desperate and lonely.
Ted shouted back: “Carla! I’m coming!” The frigid air pained his throat as he yelled.
The distant voice responded, ending in a shriek. The trail was twisting now, and the vehicle was skidding in the effort to follow it. Ted cut off the jets, leaped out, and plunged into the snow to follow the track on foot.
“Where are you?” He yelled back. A new noise replied and a small figure was racing over the snow toward him.
“Carla!” Ted shouted. Then the name died in his throat. The figure wasn’t Carla; it was an animal that snarled and leaped at his throat.
TED TWISTED violently and the fangs raked the fur of his coat. The animal tumbled into a snowdrift, inches away, and rolled to its feet, tensing for a new leap. As it sprang, Ted realized that it was a wolf.
He swung the rifle barrel viciously, catching the wolf full in the face. It yelped, rolled in the snow, and Ted clubbed it to death.
“Where are you, Carla?” he shouted, cocking the rifle.
“Up here!” came an answer from above him. “Look out! Behind you!”
Ted wheeled; another wolf was racing toward him. He fired, missed in the uncertain light, then pulled the trigger again and the animal rolled at his feet.
A tree poked through the ground near him. Ted ran to it, and looked up, Carla’s coat was ghost-like against the sky’s unnatural light.
“Drop, I’ll catch you,” he shouted.
“Oh, Ted,” she moaned, half-climbing, half-falling to the ground. “The wolves almost caught me; I was getting numb up there, and thought I was going to let go.”
Supporting her with one arm, keeping the rifle ready with the other, Ted helped her to the snowtaxi. As they reached it, a chorus of yelps broke out on the horizon. Ted paled as a mass of gray forms dashed toward them. He tossed Carla into the snowtaxi, jumped in after her, slammed the door, and turned on full power to the jets. The vehicle wheeled crazily, cut across the very path of the pack, then outdistanced them rapidly.
Carla recovered rapidly in the vehicle’s heated interior.
“I jumped out of that thing because I thought we were close to a town, and I wanted to try to get help for you,” she explained. “Then I realized that I was lost, and the wolves came.”
“They must live on garbage and scraps from the observatory,” Ted answered. “There’s certainly nothing else out here.”
He cruised about until he picked up his luminous trail, then followed it back to the station. The sky was brightening with the normal light of dawn when they zoomed through the outer gate unmolested. As they approached the inner fence, Ted asked: “Do you feel strong enough for some more trouble?”
“I’m all right.” Carla smiled. “Are you expecting more?”
“I’m going to cause more,” Ted said grimly; “hang on tight.”
He pushed viciously at the throttle. The snowtaxi pushed ahead violently as they approached the inner gate. It swung open barely in time to avoid a crash.
Ted braked and swerved at the last possible moment, as they came to a long, low building. The vehicle darted along the side of the structure, hugging its dark wall.
“I’m sure of one thing,” Ted told Carla. “This place isn’t just an observatory. It doesn’t look like a military installation, but there’s no telling what this IWO really conceals. I’m starting to suspect that they’re bluffing me about my weather-control ideas. I think they’re already controlling the weather, right here at this observatory!”
Carla stared at him. “You mean that someone is causing this new ice age?”
“Yes. I don’t know whether it’s a fifth column that wants to weaken this country; or the antics of a bunch of weather-experts who want to become world dictators—or what. But it all fits in. The way I got the runaround with my ideas; changes in all the scientific publications to leave out all references to experiments with weather-control in the current editions; the secrecy around this place.”
“Then we’d better get out of here before we’re caught, and tell people on the outside what’s going on.”
“I want proof, first; some kind of documents. Maybe we can kidnap someone working here who is willing to spill the beans. See that porch down
there?”
CARLA LOOKED at the projection from the building, and nodded.
“I’m stopping there. They don’t have much of a protection-force inside the, walls, and probably won’t know where we are just now. We may be able to wander around indoors for a little while before they spot us.”
The two crawled stiffly from the vehicle and crept toward the steps. It was full dawn now.
This door opened to their touch. But as they walked through, a guard in a blue and gold uniform woke from a doze in a chair beside the door, and tugged at his holster.
Ted leaped. His fist met the guard’s chin as the guard’s weapon was leveling toward them. The guard collapsed, moaned once, then lay still.
“Tear some strips from his shirt and tie him,” Ted ordered, pocketing the pistol. Looking around, he saw no other sign of life in the big office where they stood. It contained desks, and an enormous switchboard.
Ted shoved the bound, gagged guard into a dark corner behind the switchboard. Then, revolver in pocket but one hand on it, he led Carla to the inner corridor.
The long corridor was only dimly lighted and empty of men. Ted suspected that this might be a barracks for the station’s personnel, accounting for its quietness at this hour.
Two hundred feet down the corridor, he found what he wanted. An elevator was set into the wall, its door open. They entered.
“Look at that control-panel,” Ted pointed. “This building is only a couple of stories high above the ground, and there are a dozen floors to choose from. This thing must go down pretty deep; we might find the heart of this layout.”
He punched the bottom knob. The elevator sank noiselessly; when its door opened again, an unbelievable sight was revealed.
STRETCHING before them for hundreds of yards were giant machines that might have come from gargantuan power-plants. The air was heavy with the scent of ozone. Overall-clad workmen moved rapidly but noiselessly, tending the machines on rubber soles. Lights flashed on machines and control panels like a forest of Christmas trees.
“We’ve hit the jackpot,” Carla breathed, staying close to Ted as they emerged from the elevator. “This must be the power-plant.”
Ted forced himself to stop staring like a yokel at the machinery. “Act as if you’re used to being down here,” he told Carla. “It’s a good thing that only the guards wear uniforms in this place; we might not be spotted until we learn some things.”
They walked confidently through the maze of mountainous equipment, the workmen looking curiously at Carla but ignoring fed. Ted halted before an instrument panel.
“If I only had a camera!” He pointed to the names on the panel.
Toronto, Norfolk, Atlanta, a dozen other major cities of the continent were listed. Beside each was a temperature, a barometric reading, a humidity figure, and wind data, together with a date. Each date was three days in the future. . .”
Carla tugged Ted to another panel. “Look at this one,” she breathed. It was a twin of the other, but the dates were four days in the future.
“They can’t be forecasting equipment,” Ted said; “they’d be built like calculators. These look more like powerhouse-controls. They’re weather-control machines!”
“Ah, there you are!” a voice said behind them. Ted started, and his hand shot to the pocket containing the gun.
“I’m Dr. Dietrich,” the tall, slender man with iron-gray hair said as Ted turned. “Hello, Carla,” he added.
Ted pulled the revolver half out of his pocket, then shoved it back inside. “Take us to your office. Quick, and don’t signal anyone.”
Dr. Dietrich looked for a long moment at Ted’s grim face, glanced uncertainly at Carla, then shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s this way,” he told Ted, threading a path between the machines. “But you’re being very foolish; you can’t get out of here, because the place is alerted.”
“I’ll worry about that later,” Ted replied.
4
THE OFFICIAL led them on an interminable trip through the vast underground building. Carla, looking frightened, whispered to Ted: “This place must run for acres.”
“It’s tunneled under the countryside,” Dr. Dietrich replied, as if he were a guide for sightseers. “Only the two upper stories are above the surface. Ah, here we are.”
He paused before a kiosk-like structure that stood in a cleared space, like a lonely tepee on a prairie. Ted motioned him inside.
“Keep your hands in plain sight, and sit down,” Ted ordered, once inside. Ted looked around curiously. A switchboard with dozens of jacks stood on the desk that occupied the room’s center. Charts on rollers, most of them opened, lined the walls. The charts were covered with the waving lines and symbols of weather maps that Ted knew so well. A few filing cabinets completed the furnishings.
“I have living-quarters upstairs, you understand,” Dr. Dietrich said in friendly fashion. “Now, may I ask precisely what you intend?”
“You’re controlling the weather from this place,” Ted said.
“Ah—are you making a statement, or asking a question?” the official replied. “You seem to know enough about control possibilities to make it useless for me to lie. This is the central control-station for this hemisphere.”
“Why are you doing such a thing?” Carla burst out, eyes flashing. “When I worked for you, you seemed like the nicest person in the world. Now you’re bringing mystery to the whole world by doing things to the climate.”
“I want you to dictate a statement telling the truth to Carla,” Ted ordered. “Sign it, stamp it with the IWO seal, then get us out of here safely.”
“If I don’t?”
“Then I’ll shoot my way out, and I can still cause you people a lot of trouble outside, even without a signed statement.”
“All right.” Dr. Dietrich pointed to the desk. “I’ll talk slowly enough for you to type what I say, Carla.
“It’s really very simple,” the official began. “Of course, I wouldn’t be explaining this to you if I thought you’d carry the information to the outside world.
“This is one of a chain of weather-control stations, big and little, throughout the world. The weather experts learned quite a while ago how to do more with the weather than the old simple tricks of simply causing it to rain. They learned how to encourage cloud-formation; methods of diverting air-masses to create storms and high winds, and ways of setting cold fronts into motion. They kept that knowledge quiet at that time because they weren’t sure about the legal status of weather-control, and they didn’t want to worry with complaints from farmers whose beans were nipped by frost.
“It was easy to convert gradually the big observatories into control-stations. Then we got to work to make the climate colder and stormier. It was hard to begin, but the nice thing about weather-control is that nature takes up the job after you’ve given her a hard shove in the right direction.”
Dr. Dietrich paused and Carla’s fingers stopped flying over the keyboard. “Is that enough?” he asked mildly.
“Yes. Sign it,” Ted snapped. The scientist used a pen, then a heavy IWO seal.
TED FOLDED and pocketed the document. Then he took the IWO seal, unhooked the rear of the switchboard, and with the seal smashed the interior of the switchboard. A few feeble sparks flew, and Dr. Dietrich assumed a pained expression.
Taking the key from the door’s lock, Ted motioned Carla outside. Standing at the door, he warned Dr. Dietrich: “Don’t worry about being rescued. If they don’t miss you, I’ll come back and let you out after I’ve arranged for a government investigation of this place.” He slammed shut the door and locked it from the outside.
Ted and Carla walked rapidly across the floor, calculating their chances. “Fie can’t use that switchboard to signal,” Ted said, “and maybe it wasn’t a telephone switchboard anyway. I’ve never seen anything quite like its inside.”
“I didn’t like the calm way he took everything,” Carla mused. “That thing he signed is
dynamite; he must have something up his sleeve.”
Again they went unmolested through the heavily laboring machinery, up the elevator to the ground level, and back to the door through which they had entered. The little waiting room was still empty, and the guard was muttering feebly behind his gag.
Ted and Carla walked outside, and almost instantly loosened their clothing which they had buckled securely before leaving the building. It was almost pleasantly warm outside. The snowtaxi still stood at the side of the building.
They clambered in, and Ted got the snowtaxi into motion. It operated sluggishly, because the top layer of snow was thawing.
Drawing his bearings from the bright sun, Ted aimed for the railroad station. “We won’t stop there,” he explained, “because we’d be caught like sitting ducks if we got on a train. We’ll follow the tracks in this thing until we come to a town, and I’ll start telephoning people I know.”
Ted shoved the throttle open another notch, as the vehicle slowed in the slush.
“Are there any oars in this thing?” Carla smiled. “I always did like canoeing.”
Ted didn’t answer. Carla plucked at his unbuttoned coat. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m worried,” he said, turning a grim face toward her. “This is low ground, and there are hills over in that direction. If it doesn’t get colder soon . . .”
“You mean we can’t climb the hills in this slush?”
“Worse than that. I’m afraid . . . duck!”
Ted pointed to a speck on the horizon behind them, and crouched low in the seat.
“A helicopter. They’re looking for us.” He jerked the vehicle to a stop in a puddle beside a dead tree. The helicopter grew bigger, then veered as it rose in the sky, and passed out of sight to their left.
“We’d better hurry,” Carla suggested. “They’re just as likely to spot us sitting as moving . . . What’s wrong?”