(4/15) The Golden Age of Science Fiction Volume IV: An Anthology of 50 Short Stories

by Various

  The instant the last beam closed down a roar arose from the workers clustered about the lip of the vertical pump bore. A wall of water came surging down from the upstream end of the cavern and smashed into the bore hole wall in a muddy, seething maelstrom. The strata-borne water had found the hole and were pouring down into the cavern and catch basin. The water began rising in the walls of the hole, sealed into a shining shaft of fused rock and silicon by the laser beams.

  "It works," Troy yelled, pounding his partner on the back, "you harebrained son of an engineer, it works."

  Alec's face was wreathed in smiles as the two of them hurried down the bank to the edge of the bore. By the time they reached the lip, the water level had risen past the underground upstream mouth of the catch basin and was boiling steadily upwards past the sixty-foot mark towards the surface. Despite the vent holes and the volume of water seeping through the strata from the ruptured Spokima Reservoir, there still wasn't enough pressure to raise the water level much above the fifty-foot mark, once the catch basin filled. That was the purpose of the four nuclear pumps in the sump hole. Their great million-gallon-a-minute jets forced the bore hole water up to the surface and kept sucking up the waters cascading now into the cavern.

  "Get back," Harbrace yelled at the men still near the edge of the hole. "When it comes over it's going to blow and backwater."

  * * * * *

  Troy and Alec joined the workmen and technicians hurrying back to the safety of the riverbank. Two minutes later a deep-throated gurgle echoed in the cold morning air and huge bubble, then a geyser of water shot up into the air in a cloud of moisture and vapor spray. It fell back to the dry river bed, spread once again upon the gravel that had known only the gentle touch of rainfall for three-quarters of a century and then boiled and roiled in a gathering head downstream rolling loose boulders and logs in its teeth.

  The water level in the river bed continued to rise and a backwater began forming, extending nearly a quarter of a mile upstream before it stopped. Now the bore hole was visible only as a muddy boil of turbulence churning in the center of the newly-flowing river.

  The regional director came over to Troy and Alec and slapped the pair on the back. "You two have done a terrific thing here," he said with a broad smile.

  "Not me," Troy protested. "This was all Alec's idea. I never thought the thing would work."

  "Where's the water going?" Alec asked.

  Harbrace pointed downriver to the hidden wall of the old Grand Coulee Dam around the curve in the river bed. "We're dumping into the Grand Coulee until we can get it back underground, probably into Chelan. Meanwhile, we're going to see if your idea can be used at Moses lake and McNary."

  The great convoy of equipment and men was already on the move to join the other task forces of similar equipment already on site at the two other major damage locations.

  "Nothing more for us to do here now, and the hydraulics people can take it from here," Harbrace said. "I'm heading back to Spokane. You two want to ride back with me?"

  They turned and walked towards Harbrace's personal copter waiting beside the road a couple of hundred yards away.

  Without warning, the earth began to shift beneath their feet and the trio staggered on the rolling surface. From deep within the ground came a brief but ominous rumble. Harbrace stumbled and would have fallen as the ground shook had not the two younger men caught him. The shock was over in less than a minute.

  "My God," Harbrace breathed, "not again."

  He spun and looked towards the river. A wash of waves from the flowing current lapped against the bank but from the center of the stream the waters continued to boil. All three men silently watched for a full minute. From the south where the tail of the convoy was still visible, a light survey car came racing back down the road towards the river.

  It slid to a halt beside the bank and Hall, the senior hydro engineer, leaped out and came running towards the director and the two junior engineers.

  "Is it still pumping?" he panted anxiously as he surveyed the waters.

  The four men eyed the boil for another half minute. Now it was just a churning pool in the middle of the waters, no longer bubbling higher than the surface of the waters. "It's still pumping," Hall muttered, "but something's wrong."

  He jumped for his car and grabbed the radio. "Swenson, Baker," he called, "hold it up. Get that pump-monitoring rig back here on the double. And get the rest of that gear turned around and headed back this way. We've got more trouble."

  The other three men had walked to the survey car. "What do you think's wrong," Harbrace asked.

  "I dunno," the hydro engineer said. "Maybe the shock triggered the pile dampers on one of the pumps. Maybe something else." He squinted at the barely churning waters over the bore hole. "Can't say until we get a monitor on those pumps. If it's just a malfunction in one of the units, I can dump another one down there. If it's something else, we'll have to see then. One thing's sure, they aren't all pumping."

  * * * * *

  The pump section vehicles had been hauled out of the convoy and were already pulling up along the riverbank before the rest of the convoy of heavy equipment was turned around.

  In the big monitor van, technicians already were running remote checks on the underwater pumps. The engineers and the director climbed into the van to wait the word.

  "Number One's O.K.," the section chief reported, "so's Number Two." The three technicians at the monitor panel punched and re-punched banks of buttons and switches and watched the patterns on oscilloscopes.

  "Something sour on Number Three," the chief said. "Can't say what yet."

  "Skip over to Four," Hall ordered. "Let's see if that's O.K., then you can go back to Three."

  In two minutes Number Four had been checked out in working order. The analysis concentrated back to Number Three pump.

  "I'm getting a steady pile reading," the board man reported, "as a matter of fact, it's running a little hot. But no response to damping effect. She's running wide open."

  "Yeah," the section chief muttered as his eyes shifted along the array of scopes on the panel, "I see that, but why aren't we getting any head pressure?"

  The board men continued to run new series of response checks on the rest of the pump system. Outside, the head of the heavy equipment convoy came to a halt and the crews climbed out to wait beside their vehicles.

  Five minutes later the board men finished their checks and then conferred briefly with the section chief. He came over to the engineers.

  "I think we've got your answer," he said glumly, "but I don't think you're going to like it. The best we can figure out is that the shock must have created some kind of a lag turbulence down there and when it was over the water piled into Number Four and slammed it over on its side. Or maybe the shock just tipped it over. In any case, it's either clogged the intake or jammed the nozzles. We don't know which. And it's jammed the dampers."

  "So," the hydraulics chief shrugged, "we put another unit down there."

  "It's not that simple, Mr. Hall," the monitor chief continued. "That pile's running wide open and no place to go. It's got to be stopped or she'll blow right outta there. And if Four goes--blooey, there go the other three."

  The chief engineer sagged. "No chance of getting the dampers to respond?"

  The monitor man shook his head sadly.

  Hall ran his hand tiredly over his face and stared silently at the flickering oscilloscopes as if to force the damping device into functioning by sheer will power.

  He sighed and straightened up. "All right," he said, "how do we shut it off. Is there an outer manual system?"

  "There is," the monitor chief replied, "but in all likelihood it's jammed, too, by the shock or tip-over--and I'm more inclined to buy the tip-over than anything else."

  "Any other way to shut it down?" Hall queried.

  "Just one," the chief said. "Blow her apart chemically before she goes critical. And that, chief, is a real tough one. Someone's got to
go down there and clamp some plastic blocks in the right place on the pile housing. Even then, there's the chance that she might blow in the wrong direction and the whole shebang will go up in big, fat mushroom cloud."

  Hall's eyes saddened. "If that's it," he sighed, "that's the way it has to be. Let's get with it. Where does the plastic go?"

  "Better check that out with Barton in the main rig," the monitor chief replied. "He's got the prints and he can show you the exact spot on one of the spare pumps. Oh, and Mr. Hall," he paused, "you'd better hurry it up. She's leaking a little of the pressure down there but not nearly enough. I'd make a quick guess and say that we've got less than two hours to either shut that pile down or relieve the pressure. And if she's tipped, the time in getting it back up and checking out damage on the pump system is going to take too long and it might not be repairable. The best bet is to blow her."

  Hall nodded and with Harbrace and the junior engineers in his wake went to the central pump section vehicle.

  Walking to the other vehicle, Alec looked at the water with stricken eyes. "God in Heaven," he said aloud, "I never thought it would end this way."

  Harbrace broke stride and took Patterson gently by the arm.

  "None of us did, Alec," he said. "This isn't your fault. You had a fine idea and it worked. What happened afterwards is no worse than the original quake that caused the damage. If this thing blows out, we won't be out any more water than we would have been if you hadn't come up with the idea in the first place."

  "That's not what I meant," Alec said in a shaken voice. "If this does blow out, not only do we lose the water but we're going to contaminate this aquifer with radioactivity from here to the mouth of the Columbia."

  "I know that, too," Harbrace replied softly. "It's still not your fault, son. And we're not licked yet. Come on."

  * * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, a double strand of durasteel cable stretched across the three-hundred-foot wide current, suspended between the raised crane towers of four of the mammoth crane carriers and passing twenty feet above the churn of the bore hole.

  Hall and a half dozen of his section chiefs stood at the base of one of the makeshift towers. The chief hydraulic engineer had a headset clamped on for contact with all the working units.

  He turned to one of the men standing by. "Get me a pressure reading on that hole," he ordered. "I want to know how much weight it's going to take to get down through that mess."

  "Why not just shut the other three down while we go down into the hole?" the assistant asked.

  "Calculated risk," Hall said. "If she's going to blow, it isn't going to make any difference if the others are shut down or not. And, if we can keep pumping while we're working, we're staying ahead of the flow from the reservoir. Get me that reading."

  The pressure report was back in minutes. "It'll take at least a four-ton mass to get down there fast and keep from being bucked around."

  Hall looked around, "What have we got that's small enough and has that weight or better?"

  "How about a van tractor?" one of the supervisors suggested. "They weigh closer to six tons but they're pretty compact."

  "Fine," Hall snapped. "Rig it."

  The bulky, almost square, tractor was rolled up and the rigging crews were swarming over it, clamping suspension cables from the running pulley that would ride the cable across the current.

  "What's the radiation report?" Hall asked monitoring.

  "Still building," came the reply. "But we've got a leak somewhere, Mr. Hall. We're getting readings from the water down there. Not too much yet, but it may change our time factor. I'd either get on it fast, chief, or let's get outta here. That thing can go any minute now."

  The tractor was rigged. Hall turned and bawled, "Where are those divers?"

  Alec Patterson and Troy Braden stepped out of a nearby van, dressed in pressure suits and tanks, their helmet flaps open. Alec had a heavy belt of ultra-high explosive plastic lashed around his midsection. Troy carried a rack of small clamps strung across his shoulders.

  "Where do you think you two are going?" Hall roared. "Get those suits off and get outta here."

  "Shut up and listen," Alec snarled. "I started this. I'll finish it. This idiot partner of mine hasn't got any better sense than to go along. We haven't time to argue, so just listen.

  "Both of us have been trained in hydrology and have made many dives before. We've both used this plastic and we've both handled hot stuff, probably more than any of your people. Your man has checked us out on the pump assembly and we know just what we're looking for. Let's go."

  Hall glared at the pair for a second and then whirled to the rigged tractor. "Get that canopy off that thing," he ordered. "They can ride it down in the seat."

  He turned back to the junior engineers. "Got lights?" They both indicated a pair of sealed handbeams on their belts. "All right, get aboard."

  "Casey," Hall called over the intercom, "got that communications line rigged?"

  "All set, boss," came the answer. "It will run out the cable and down the cab. I've left them plenty of slack to move around when they get down there."

  "O.K.," Hall waved to the riggers, "everybody get outta here. Casey, plug them in."

  Alec and Troy had entered the cab. The communications man leaned over and coupled the phone system into their helmets and then waved at Hall.

  "You two hear?" Hall demanded.

  "Loud and clear," Alec replied.

  "All right," Hall ordered, "let's get with it. This is a general order. All vehicles and personnel not directly involved, pull back a full mile."

  Men and equipment began moving away.

  "O.K., Number One crane, lift 'em."

  The crane operator on the near bank eased his gears into motion and the six-ton tractor lifted into the air with Alec and Troy aboard. When it was five feet above the ground, the crane on the opposite shore began hauling the draw line and the vehicle swung out over the water.

  "Now listen closely," Hall ordered the pair in the swinging vehicle, "from this point, you are in control. Stop your slide over the hold by just yelling "Stop." Number one crane is your up and down operator and also will pull you towards this bank. If you need to go forward or backwards when you get inside the hole, just say which way and both crane carriers will move in the direction you want. Got it?"

  "Affirmative," Alec replied.

  A second later he yelled "Stop." The pull halted and the heavy vehicle swayed just a foot above the churn in the waters. Alec waited a minute until the tractor quite swinging and then ordered, "Let's go down."

  * * * * *

  Number One crane began paying out cable and the tractor and men slipped beneath the surface of the turbulent waters.

  Surging, silt-laden water rushed upwards past the sides of the heavy cab and swirled around Troy and Alec. Both were clamped into the seat by a steel mesh belt and the waters tore and whipped at them. Despite the six-ton mass of the tractor, both men could feel it quiver against the thrust of the waters rushing and breaking against its undersurfaces. Although both had turned on their powerful suit lights, the lamps made only a dim glow in the surging waters. When the tractor had dropped some thirty feet, it was Troy who yelled "Hold it!"

  The downward motion stopped.

  "Let's get back against the wall," Troy yelled over the roar of the torrent. "Those pumps are pretty well to the center of the bore and I don't want to come down on top of one of them, even the bad one. Move back!"

  On shore, both cranes began inching up stream.

  In the thundering bore, the tractor bumped against the wall of the hole. "Hold it," Troy shouted. The carriers stopped. "Take 'er down."

  Again the massive vehicle descended into the depths. The roaring became louder with every foot and the constantly dinning noise rattled the earphones of the crane and carrier operators. Hall stood on the bank, his eyes glued to the thread of cable vanishing beneath the waters.

  The tractor was bumping against the
wall with more violence and the engineers could feel it tip and sway as the turbulence increased from below.

  "I think we're too close to Number Two pump," Alec yelled. "Let's get a little more offshore." On the far bank, Number Two crane began hauling the pulley towards him.

  The undersurface bobbing lessened. "That's good, Number Two," Alec shouted. The downward motion continued.

  As suddenly as it began, the turbulence almost ceased and the sound diminished in the black, watery hole. The big nuclear pumps stood thirty feet high with their great jets at the top. The tractor had descended blow the level of the jet thrust. At the same instant, there was a forward motion and the tractor began to sweep toward the downstream wall of the bore.

  "Drop us, fast," Alec commanded. "We're being sucked."

  Number One crane operator slammed his release button and the tractor fell with a jarring crash to the floor of the catch basin. On the floor, its mass held it in place against the drag of the three huge pumps and the natural flow of the water.

  The water was clearer and their lights penetrated a few feet into the black-green hell around them.

  "You see it?" Alec asked his partner.

  "Not a thing," Troy replied, "but we can't be more than a few feet from it. It's got to be somewhere in front of us and I think a little to my side. The suction drag doesn't seem quite so heavy over here."

  "Number One," Alec instructed, "give us a fast one-foot lift and drop it immediately. The current will move us."

  The operator took up the slack in the cable and then gave a short burst of upwards pull and slammed the release. The tractor lifted and was carried forward about five feet before it slammed down again and stopped.

  "There it is," Troy yelled, aiming his light to the right front of the tractor. The beam picked out the massive casing of Number Four pump. "Let's get in close." On instructions from the submerged engineers both cranes lifted and hauled briefly. The tract slammed into the bulk of the disabled pump. Troy and Alec played their lights over the plate.