Impact (Fuzed Trilogy Book 1)

by David E Stevens

  Musk, watching him, smiled. “It’s actually spring-like temperatures for Antarctica.”

  After adjusting to breathing icicles, the next thing that struck him was the eerie twilight. It was a perpetual sunrise with just enough light to read. Only the direction of the sunrise would change, rotating slowly around the horizon like the hour hand of a clock.

  In the sky to the south, he saw the greenish glow of a faint aurora borealis. Correcting himself, he realized he was in the Southern Hemisphere and said softly, “aurora australis.” High-energy particles captured from the sun spiraled down the earth’s magnetic pole like water going down a drain. As the particles dove through the atmosphere, they collided with the air. The ghostly green glow was the oxygen molecule’s funeral pyre. The crash zone of particles formed a giant circle, 2,000 miles in diameter, centered on the magnetic pole. The aurora was only visible in darkness and when the sun was angrily energetic.

  Antarctica was alien enough without the twilight and ghostly glow. As he looked at the horizon and slowly turned, he saw vast plains stretching into the distance and merging with the gray horizon. He continued to turn until he saw the mountain ridgeline. It jutted out of the plain like a dull circular-saw blade cutting up through a piece of white plywood. Hundred-foot-tall snowdrifts looked like white caulk liberally applied to seal the ridgeline to the icy plain. The mountaintop was the only part high enough to receive direct sunlight. With the sun at his back, the mountaintop looked like a sculpture lit by a spotlight, majestic and surreal.

  Looking down, he kicked a layer of dry, loose snow from the underlying ice sheet. He was standing on what looked like a beautiful blue lake, complete with wind ripples frozen in place. The “ripples” stuck up several inches, explaining the rough landing.

  Bobinski, seeing Josh look down at the ice, said, “Zamboni!”

  Josh said, “Pardon me?”

  Bobinski came closer and asked, “Do you ice skate?”

  “Badly. Yes, I know what a Zamboni is. They resurface ice rinks.”

  Bobinski said, “We use specially built Zamboni on steroids!”

  Josh smiled, trying to picture it.

  Bobinski continued, “It will scrape ice and fill with hot water until smooth. We create any size runway. Will last for years because of temperature.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  “Siberia is not so different.” He paused and looked directly at Josh. “Why are you here?”

  He’d read Bobinski’s file and knew that the Russian had a deep distrust for the KGB and CIA. “You mean I’m about as useful as a bikini in Siberia?”

  Bobinski’s eyes narrowed. “Bikini we find use for.”

  Josh stopped smiling. “Mr. Bobinski, I’m not a spy. I’m actually an engineer and one of the architects of this program, and I like to imagine I’m smart enough to know where I’m incompetent. I’m here to learn. I’ll ask questions because it affects other parts of the program, but you’re in charge here and have the final say on all site decisions.”

  Bobinski shrugged, not looking very convinced

  They turned to watch the snowcats, loaded with supplies, drive slowly down the C-17 ramp. Painted bright orange, the snowcats looked like large, jacked-up SUVs on tank tracks.

  Before they climbed aboard, Bobinski said, “First we find location for base camp at foot of mountain. It must be big enough area to house workers, fuel depot and communication center. Then we study photographs and choose gentlest path to top.”

  The ridgeline had a series of small rounded peaks. They drove to the spot directly under the highest peak, Mount Howe, but the giant snowdrifts obscured the bedrock. Bobinski shook his head and directed them to drive parallel to the ridgeline until they found an area of exposed bedrock. It looked like a gentle ski slope of volcanic gravel. Its angle and location allowed prevailing winds to scour it free of snow.

  They stopped and got out. Bobinski gave orders to his two engineers, Petrov and Olenev. Musk, who had been scanning the ridgeline with binoculars, handed them to Bobinski and suggested a possible ascent point.

  Josh, pointing to the area where Bobinski’s men were working, asked, “Why this site?” He had lifted his goggles so Bobinski could see his face.

  Bobinski studied him, probably to see if he was being micromanaged. Then he replied, “We need to be on bedrock close to the mountain peak in case we need to run power lines up.”

  Josh nodded but asked, “Power lines?”

  “Don’t know if we can get reactors to top. Might put reactors down here. Run power up with cables.”

  Josh just nodded.

  Petrov and Olenev set up the foundation perimeter, and along with the two Russian crewmembers and two Air Force crew, began pulling out parts for their new home. A sophisticated, partly inflatable Quonset hut, it was anchored to the ground by steel cables. Carbon graphite ribs, lightweight polymer panels, and a double-layered, inflatable skin allowed for rapid assembly. The structure was large, about 15 by 30 feet, but with all of them working together, it went up quickly despite the steady, subzero wind.

  Josh worked hard and quietly took orders from Bobinski’s men. After several snowcat runs back to the C-17, they had installed generators, satellite communication dishes, and a small weather station. Inside, they put in heaters, folding tables and chairs, a small galley, laptop computers, communication equipment, and sleeping bags. It was a full day’s work.

  After they finished, they went inside and Bobinski said, “Time to eat and get sleep. Tackle mountain tomorrow.” They voraciously ate military pre-packaged field rations and climbed into their sleeping bags.

  Josh was the first awake the next morning, but still managed to finish reading two more books before he fell asleep the night before. He read a book on mountain climbing and a Lincoln leadership biography. He wasn’t sure which might be more relevant to his current situation.

  After another hearty breakfast of military field rations and hot coffee, they sat around a laptop looking at photographs taken from the C-17. Bobinski and his team correlated the pictures into a 3-D representation of the mountain. Usually, they used English, but when they got excited, they shifted to Russian. Bobinski would bring them back to English and explain anything that transpired. Finally, Bobinski, stroking his beard and speaking primarily to Musk said, “Best path up mountain is clear from radar mapping and pictures but could have dangerous areas.”

  Musk, pointing at a picture on the screen, said, “Should be able to take the snowcats halfway up the mountain to here, maybe a little further. Then we’ll have to proceed on foot. There might be some loose slopes and small crevasses. The only way to be sure is to take a look.”

  Bobinski nodded, and turned to Josh. “We take both snowcats up mountain. You can come along if you stay out of way and help with equipment.”

  Josh just nodded.

  The snowcats trundled off along the plain in the shadow of the mountain. Musk, Bobinski and Olenev were in the lead snowcat. Petrov drove the second one with Katori in the passenger seat. Wedged in the back, Josh sat between boxes of climbing and survey gear.

  Although Mount Howe was 9,600 feet tall, it was embedded in an 8,000-foot high plateau. That meant they only had to climb about 1,600 feet to get from the base camp to the top of the mountain. They had to drive several miles, however, to find a slope gentle enough to start their ascent. The snowcat’s suspension allowed the tall cab to sway continuously as they climbed. Noticing that Katori looked a little green, he was glad his new body wasn’t susceptible to motion sickness.

  They were two-thirds the way up the mountain when they hit an impasse. The mountain ridgeline was only about as wide as a football field, dropping off progressively on both sides to vertical cliffs. There were also large ripples in the ridgeline, as if someone had tried to compress it along its length. They hit one of the ripples that had split open, creating a small, rocky crevasse. It was too wide for the snowcats to traverse. Everyone got out.

  Musk took ove
r as the most experienced climber. He’d already interviewed everyone to determine their physical fitness and climbing experience. Although Josh won in the fitness department, he’d never climbed before. Musk chose Bobinski, Petrov and Josh, leaving Katori and Olenev behind with the snowcats.

  Musk had briefed them on climbing safety at the base camp, but he quickly summarized, “We shouldn’t have to do any exotic climbing, but we’ll have to cross a couple of small crevasses. The slope won’t be steep, but the combination of loose rock, high altitude and extreme cold is always dangerous.” He smiled, obviously enjoying himself. “We’re going where no one has been before! If you have any problems or questions, stop and ask. Don’t be stoic or heroic.”

  Musk helped Josh and Petrov into their climbing harnesses, roping them together with 40 feet of separation. Then he showed them how to assemble and install a small metal footbridge across the crevasse. “Bridge” was a generous term. It looked more like a cheap aluminum ladder dropped across the gap and anchored to the rock. Josh, knowing they invited him along as a Sherpa, picked up the heaviest pack with the bridge parts and survey equipment.

  The first test was crossing the bridge laden with the packs. Musk, taking the lead, led them across. He put Bobinski, who also had mountain climbing experience, at the back. Josh and Petrov were in the middle. With no fear of heights, Josh looked down as he crossed. It was just deep enough to kill them.

  They moved carefully up the slope until they hit a second crevasse, where they put up another bridge. On the other side, they took a break. Musk and Bobinski, who had been practicing and working out, were breathing hard. Even Petrov, a long-distance runner, was struggling. Barely winded, Josh loved his new body.

  Musk tapped Josh on the shoulder. Josh turned to see him pointing silently at the sky near the horizon. The aurora had brightened considerably, with soft, undulating curtains of green fire. It was beautiful.

  After a short rest, they continued their climb. Finally, almost at the top, they stood on a gentle dome of what appeared to be exposed granite. On one side of the dome was a level rock shelf, naturally carved out of the mountain. Bobinski and Petrov pulled cameras and survey equipment out of the packs and started taking pictures and elevation readings. With nothing to do, Musk disconnected himself and Josh from Bobinski and Petrov. The two of them climbed the last 200 feet to the very top of the mountain.

  As they reached the summit, they were initially facing back toward Bobinski and Petrov, and looking directly into the perpetual sunrise. The tiny C-17 looked like a toy on the plain 1,600 feet below. Josh felt like he was standing on an island, an island of orange, sunset-colored rock surrounded by an ocean of shadow. The plain blended into the sky at the horizon, making it difficult to tell where the earth stopped and the heavens began.

  Musk said, “Do you realize we’re the first to ever stand on top of this mountain? We’re at the top ... of the bottom of the world.”

  Josh smiled. “I think there’s a country song in there somewhere.”

  They both slowly turned around until the sun was at their back and they faced the geographic South Pole.

  Musk said, “Oh my God!” as their faces were illuminated by the ghostly green glow of a brilliantly powerful aurora. During the climb, the ridgeline hid the growing light show. Standing on the peak, they were transfixed.

  Two, 100-mile-high, gossamer curtains slowly rippled toward each other as if blowing in a gentle breeze. Beautifully bright white and ghostly green, they blended into a rich translucent red at the top. Near the bottom was a narrow band of rich, undulating purple, as if a cosmic interior designer added a royal fringe. It was both spellbinding and alien.

  Finally, Musk pointed at the horizon. “Isn’t that Jupiter?”

  It was one of the brightest objects in the sky, but still barely visible in the twilight.

  Josh nodded and said quietly, “The comet should be between the orbits of Saturn and Jupiter right now.”

  Musk shook his head. “It’s inconceivable that a mountain — bigger than we’re standing on — could fall from the sky.” Then, looking back at the aurora, added, “I feel like an ant on a giant stage looking up at the bottom of huge curtains closing after a performance.” Glancing at Josh, he added, “Hope it’s not the final act.”

  As they watched, the two colossal curtains of tortured particles finally met, becoming one. The sky vibrated with a riot of glacially slow, roiling sheets of color. Twisting and turning, they looked as if someone was shaking them from above. It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

  Josh just said, “Wow.”

  Musk nodded. “Almost enough to make you believe in a God.”

  Interrupting their contemplation, Bobinski yelled up from below.

  28

  FREEFALL

  Josh and Musk climbed back down to where Bobinski was. Standing on the natural rock shelf, Bobinski declared, “This is perfect location for beam projector and control room.”

  They repacked their equipment and started down the mountain, frequently glancing up into the sky. With a downhill traverse, and no more bridge parts to shoulder, the trip went quickly. They crossed the last bridge and reached the snowcats.

  Disconnecting the rope from their climbing harnesses, they gathered the equipment to load into the cats. Josh stood next to the metal bridge and finished coiling their climbing rope into a bag. Reaching the end of the rope with the large metal carabiner clip, he smiled. Yesterday, he thought a carabiner was just an elaborate key chain.

  Looking up, he saw Petrov, free of his tether, venturing toward the edge of the ridgeline. With camera in hand, he was obviously trying to get a picture of the C-17 below with the aurora in the background. Looking at his camera’s display, Petrov stepped on a large patch of ice. Like a Charlie Chaplin movie, his arms began to windmill rapidly.

  Musk and Bobinski, standing next to the snowcats, watched the antics with amusement. Despite Petrov’s comical contortions, gravity won and he finally landed on his back.

  Assessing the situation, Josh’s mind suddenly went into overdrive. His brain instantly projected the outcome. Petrov had fallen on a part of the ice sheet that wrapped the edge of the ridgeline like a frozen waterfall. The slope got progressively steeper for 30 feet, and then dropped off vertically to the plain, over 1,000 feet below. Petrov began sliding on his back toward the edge.

  Josh was the closest to Petrov, but still 100 feet away. He tore off his gloves and clipped the end of the rope he was holding around one of the bridge’s metal struts. Reaching into the rope bag, he snatched the other end.

  Musk and Bobinski’s expressions changed as they realized what was happening.

  Josh sprinted toward Petrov as the climbing rope uncoiled from the bag behind him. Once again, as the adrenaline rose, time seemed to slow. With his freezing hands, he clipped the end of the rope to his harness. The rope was too long but he didn’t have time to fix that.

  Petrov looked like an upside down turtle. His arms and legs flailed as he clawed at the ice trying to right himself, but his heavy gloves prevented him from getting purchase.

  Josh saw Musk running toward the metal bridge with Bobinski following. Musk had figured out what Josh was attempting.

  Josh ran as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Petrov passed the point of no return and was about to go over the cliff. With all his strength, Josh launched himself into a dive calculated to intercept Petrov.

  A detached part of him asked what he thought he was doing. If the bridge didn’t hold, they were both dead. What would become of humanity’s battle?

  Petrov’s torso slid over the edge as Josh slammed into him, grabbing his backpack and coat. The impact accelerated both of them over the cliff into freefall. Petrov screamed, clinging to Josh. Their momentum propelled them away from the cliff in an inverted bear hug. Josh was upside down, Petrov, right side up, their heads pressed into each other’s chests. They fell forever, or so it seemed with Josh’s hyperactive time-
sense.

  One hundred feet down, the rope reached its end. The harness jerked him to a brutal stop, cutting into his torso and squeezing the air from his lungs. Their bear hug broke as Petrov’s weight almost pulled Josh’s arms from their sockets. The metal bridge above clanged and shrieked against the rock as Petrov slid toward his death.

  At the last second, Josh caught him by his wrists. Attached only by their hands with Josh hanging upside down, they looked like a circus trapeze act. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he glanced back at the face of the mountain ... not good! His dive for Petrov pushed them far away from the cliff face. Now, their trapeze was rapidly swinging back toward the rock wall.

  Josh quickly determined two things. The impact with the rock wall was going to hurt ... a lot, and even if they survived, he’d never be able to hold onto Petrov.

  He took as deep a breath as the torso allowed and used all his strength to pull Petrov back up into the inverted bear hug. Twisting his torso so he would be between the cliff and Petrov, Josh knew exactly how Wile E Coyote felt.

  Slamming back-first into the cliff, Petrov’s head broke his ribs. It was like falling flat on his back from a ladder with someone landing on top of him. If that weren’t enough, the bridge shrieked and slid again, slipping them another foot.

  Josh was supporting the weight of two men. His harness squeezed his broken ribs, making it impossible to breathe. Stunned and fighting for air, he managed a quick plea to Jesse, although he had no idea what good it would do.

  Josh could only whisper. He told Petrov to climb up his body and grab the rope. Frozen with fear, Petrov stuck to him like Velcro. Josh knew he’d lose consciousness if Petrov couldn’t transfer his weight to the rope. With the last of his air, he whispered, “Petrov ... bridge could fall any time ... climb ... now!”