“Don’t take your usual half hour…” His pilot friend also had a gift for understatement.
Robertson opened Pod One’s primary access panel to expose a tiny cargo area at the foot of the acceleration bench where he would strap in. He peered inside using a tiny, brilliant hand lamp. When the pod door was closed, its cargo area would be completely sealed off from the passenger. It held an emergency pack and two additional containers, one made of nylon and rectangular, and the other a fat, meter-long plastic tube. Both were made to slip into the prepared compartments with no room to spare. Robertson pulled out the stiff nylon case, removed a black L-rifle from his duffel, checked it over, and folded it up. Then he fitted it into its case, returning case and weapon to the pod’s cargo compartment. Then he replaced the plastic tube with an otherwise identical aluminum container holding his own, fitted all-terrain skis.
“Can you ever have too much insurance?”
“Not according to my mother of blessed memory…” The pilot was interrupted by an emergency buzzer. “Time’s up, Jay. You have three minutes. Make that two!”
One minute later Robertson was inside Pod One, rapidly fastening his acceleration straps. The EEV’s hatch immediately closed. For a several uncomfortable seconds Robertson was in total blackness. Then he heard the whine of the jet’s lower cargo door opening. A screaming rush of high velocity air shook his pod. Seconds later, its internal power cell activated and the instrument display lighted up directly in front of his face. There was the faint whine of a ventilation fan. From a recessed speaker, he could hear his friend’s tinny voice from the cockpit. “They are closing in fast. The servo will launch you as soon as the hatch is fully open. You have twenty seconds. Pod Two launches five seconds after you do. Your landing point is confirmed. Good luck!”
There was a sound of rushing air and a metallic clang followed by a loud noise that resembled running water in large pipes. A sensation of forward movement told Jay he was about to fall free…
The blunt nose of Pod One slid out of the opening into a wrenching storm of 350 mph winds. Sustained thunder, a heavy downward acceleration and an indicator light told him that Pods One and Two were both free of the jet. Jay was falling feet-first in a titanium clad can not much larger than a coffin. The second pod was falling close by at about the same speed.
Two more corrections followed, then a sustained deceleration. Moments later, Robertson’s instruments showed that his speed as the pod plummeted to earth was steadily dropping, 325 miles per hour, then 300, 290…Robertson braced himself as his as the final retro-thrust kicked in and he briefly blacked out…
Robertson was awakened by the swaying motion of his EEV pod beneath its chutes. The final impact should come any second now, and he was starting to feel nausea. But the swaying stopped with a gentle jolt, followed by the running water sound and another jolt.
I hear the sound of wind outside. My pod is stable. Am I down then?
Robertson was on solid ground. Seized by the mild claustrophobia that he had suppressed since entering the capsule, he unlocked the hatch and pushed. But the hatch held. Fighting rising panic, he studied the instrument panel. The pressure differential. Of course! He hit a pair of switches in sequence, and icy air rushed in, making his ears pop.
After a slight resistance, the hatch easily swung open. A spray of snow hit his face and a blinding light lanced his eyes. Squinting, he could make out pine and fir trees towering overhead. The parachute lines trailed upward to the chute. Its mottled green fabric had apparently draped over several trees. He sat up. His eyes still stabbed with pain; the cold air seared his face and sucked the heat from his body. Through narrowly clenched eyes Jay could see that snow was melted away in a circle around the base of his own pod, which was leaning at a 45 degree angle in a steaming mud crater. He was too low to see whether and where the second pod had landed
He crawled down from his pod hatch, immediately slipping on the frozen snow crust and scraping his elbow. Broken and tumbling snow surrounded the crater his pod had made, chest high. With freezing hands, he wrestled the emergency pack from its compartment. It contained a reversible gray and silver plastic coverall. He pulled it on, silver side in; he was already getting clumsy in the subzero cold. Jay moved carefully, trying not to shake as the garment stretched slowly to fit him. Gloves and boot liners came next, followed by the plastic over-boots.
Hood, sunglasses and power pack completed the transformation. He could immediately feel the pain in his eyes subside. The power pack, a two kilo case that fit in a pocket over one knee, would last two days if necessary. He connected it, and closed the pocket flap. In six seconds, heat began to spread inside of the suit. An emergency carry pack fitted to his back. Finally, he retrieved his weapon bag and the aluminum ski canister from his pod. He closed the hatch, four minutes having elapsed since the landing.
The snow along the top of the crater collapsed as Robertson tried to crawl out. But he discovered that if he pushed the aluminum ski canister in front, wallowing in the snow, he could inch his way to the crust along the top. Panting from this exertion, Jay paused a second to glance up. The sky was a clear and brilliant blue, etched with feathering slivers of clouds. The nearest tree was only three meters away. At that moment, he first glimpsed then actually saw a flash of metal; it was a brilliant pinpoint that wouldn't go away. Quickly, he opened the weapon case and the ski canister.
His narrow, stubby laser rifle, equipped with a collapsible stock, was quickly deployed, the arming switch pressed and the rig slung on his shoulder. The aluminum canister opened to reveal his collapsed, segmented skis and telescoping poles. In the bottom of that case he located a tiny fully powered double-encrypted SatCom with built-in direction finder. He snapped the SatCom unit to his waist and immediately set about assembling the skis.
They were short, mid-wide, designed more for rough terrain than speed. They had been made to special paramilitary specs from a carbon fiber composite and titanium, designed to be easily assembled with a tongue and groove mechanism and used under a variety of conditions. Robertson went about the setup with efficient, practiced steps, looking up only when the skis were fully assembled and the L-rifle was fully charged
By then the bright pinpoint in the sky had grown to the size of a dime, and it was getting closer every second.
Taking care not to fall through the crust, Jay kneeled on the skis and carefully stood, one foot on top on the straps, the other toe first on the smooth part of the ski. Then he bent and fastened the straps, adjusted the L-rifle, clipping its harness to his carry pack. The ski poles snapped into place.
He was ready.
Robertson kicked off a bit too casually, almost losing his balance. Then he glided steadily to the stand of trees nearest the crater. He would not to attempt to pull down the chute because that mystery aircraft would have already spotted it. Instead he rapidly pushed under the chute lines and began to pole vigorously up the slight upgrade, intent on putting as much distance between himself and the incoming craft as possible.
After several minutes, the crater was no longer visible behind him. Jay stopped, sweating heavily from the sudden exertion. He waited while the suit’s thermostat self-corrected. Then he pulled out the SatCom and turned on the finder. A bright glowing schematic appeared in a tiny window showing Pod Two about 300 yards away.
Kick and glide. Kick and glide. Metal glinted in the snow ahead. Pod Two stood canted against a snow-bank that had partly dissolved when its exhaust nozzles had blasted away at a huge drift. Robertson risked another glance to his rear.
Something – it was a large black shape – was looming over the trees through which he had just come. It wobbled downward toward the position of Robertson’s now evacuated EEV. The craft was a huge metal top with windows and a gaping cargo hold at the bottom.
Who or what the hell has one of those?
From deep within the hold, a silver cable snaked out, almost as if it was a living appendage. At its end, a grappling device had be
gun to unfold like a huge black flower. Robertson held still as ice and watched while the grapple dropped behind the trees. Seconds later, it emerged holding Pod One, its Red Cross rescue symbol clearly visible.
Jay yanked off his right glove and turned over the SatCom to expose a keyboard, and he tapped a twelve digit code. A second later, “C L E A R” flashed on the screen. He tapped an instruction, the prearranged signal: “Destruct Pod One.”
His bullet-shaped Pod was only partly visible, the bulk of it having been swallowed into the hold. Suddenly, the entire bottom of the craft was engulfed in expanding flame.
The concussion knocked Robertson backward, pitching him into a snowdrift. Flaming fragments rained down around him, sizzling as they struck. He lay still in the snow, unable to breathe. The ship rocked; then it ascended slowly, the flames dying out as it rose, its lower hull stained with soot. He watched as it hovered in place briefly, savoring his triumph. Then it began to move in Robertson’s direction.
Damn. That ship thing was coming in for him! Robertson was still holding the SaCom with a fierce grip; his L-rifle harness was slightly out of place; his heat suit had been torn at the knee; the battery pack had stopped working; cold was creeping in everywhere…and his skis were gone!
Frantically, Jay looked around. Pod Two, carrying the alien life-support chamber, was still intact. Its blunt end, painted a dull grey, poked out of a similar snow crater, its severed parachute cords dangling from a nearby tree. He extended the SatCom antenna, punched up the gain and hit the panic button. “Donald!” he shouted, not waiting for confirmation, “I some need help now.” He keyed in the emergency identifier code and added: “I think an ET ship is going to take me out!”
Jay could see into the hold area at the bottom of the strange craft and make out the faint outline of something moving in the darkness.
“You have to get away from there, or shoot the damned thing. I can’t help you from here!”
Jay pocketed the SatCom and shouldered his L-rifle. He drew a bead on the object in the hold and fired. A rapid recharge. Again. Again. Again. Again. He continued firing, getting off twenty separate bursts until the ship stopped its descent, holding in place. He could see a faint glow sparking somewhere within the dark hold.
Then the ship began to move again. Is it leaving or just getting ready to make another pass? I’ve got to retrieve that damned ET life-support chamber!
Jay lunged forward through the deep snow, ignoring the sharp pain in his back. He slipped and slid over the surface, until he managed to get to Pod Two. He removed a key from his carry pack, turning it in a panel identified by an arrow on one side. A hissing noise followed. Then he turned his SatCom to the inter-pod frequency on lowest gain and keyed in the arming code. Pod Two, having been booby-trapped by GFE technicians, was now hot. He would have to move very carefully from now on, lest an untimely explosion scatter him over a half-kilometer of forest.
In response to the arming code, the pod door cracked open a few inches. Jay pulled it open the rest of the way, revealing the aliens’ life-support chamber nested inside. To Jay, the Teflon coated pressure chamber looked like a dolphin coffin with runners, if there were such a thing. Or an alien coffin…
With the exception of the explosive pack he had just armed, Pod Two had been completely hollowed out to make room for the removable chamber. It was designed to keep his rescued ETs alive under a variety of otherwise deadly conditions. The chamber itself weighed 125 kilos. Fortunately, it was equipped with handles and a tow ring at each end. Jay pulled firmly at the base of the life-support chamber driven by surging adrenaline. Spring loaded, the chamber easily pushed itself out of Pod Two as it had been designed to do. But it fell heavily, glancing against the EEV on the way down ending with one end sticking into the mud.
Jay just waited and stared, his heart lurching. There was no explosion. The Teflon coating of chamber had prevented metal-to-metal contact. But the damn thing had just missed his right boot. Jay warily glanced at the sky. Nothing is coming at me….yet.
With a push, he sent the chamber over on its side, one blunt end falling on a shallow snow bank at the edge of the mud. The bank angled downhill from Pod Two’s crater. He reached inside the now empty EEV and unhooked the portable power unit inside, cringing once again. Did I really have to arm the damn thing when I did? The portable power unit was designed to attach to either end of the chamber. Robertson connected it, and the power unit automatically reeled up the excess cord.
The chamber was now completely independent and self-contained. One end now rested against a low snow bank that debouched into a gentle down-slope. Between bushes and rocks, Jay could identify a possible glide path that led to another stand of trees and possibly beyond. Once again, Robertson risked looking up. Damn! The strange ship was fluttering to earth in the mid-distance. Jay’s original surge of adrenaline had worn off; his back felt weak and his knees were trembling. For a minute, he wrestled ineffectually with the slippery surface of the chamber, trying to lift it to the balance point at the edge of the snow crater until tears came to his eyes. After slipping in the mud and snow and opening a new gash in his right knee, he finally found a handle. With a single heave, he succeeded in pushing the leading end of the thing entirely onto the snow, and then pushed it further. He paused for a few seconds, his breath coming hot and fast, his eyes blurring with the effort. Suddenly the chamber, its weight almost entirely on the snow bank, broke through part of the crust and refused to slide forward. Crap!
Another glance up: Overhead, the ship was now looming close, casting a dark shadow across the snow. The black hold gaped open directly overhead. Jay could see the grapple descending. They’re going for the empty pod!
All of Robertson’s strength returned in a surge: he pushed the chamber over the small break in the crusted snow until it began to slip on its Teflon runners. He crawled after it, pushing until it began to slide on its own. In a moment, it was gliding downhill powered by its own momentum. Jay began running clumsily behind, his feet punching through the crust. The chamber was outdistancing him.
With a leap, Robertson jumped on top of the sliding chamber, clinging to its recessed handles. The life-support chamber had become a sled, and it was rapidly picking up speed. The snow hissed by, the trees growing nearer. Jay felt sudden heat at his back just as he and the chamber-sled whisked under some low-branched trees. His slide was now more like a luge in the straightaway. Then he felt the whump of an explosion; snow sprayed behind him; and his glasses froze over. He clung fiercely to the handles. After a time, the chamber hissed to a stop.
Robertson rolled off the chamber onto a hard snow-covered surface, his laser rifle stabbing him in his side. He pulled off the sunglasses and looked behind him. A single track led across the frozen, snow-covered surface of a small lake. His trail led back to the abruptly sloping embankment; there it disappeared in a cluster of pines and spruces at the top of a hill. In the greater distance, smoke filled the sky over the trees. A pinprick of silver winked in the blue overhead, diminishing as he watched. As the strange ship had attempted the pick up, Pod Two had gone auto-destruct triggered by the metal-to-metal contact with its grapple. The ship was wounded and finally, it was leaving…
Game over…for now…All I have to worry about is surviving long enough to make the freaking rendezvous.
Then, as Robertson stood up, he heard the ice beneath crack like a rifle shot, followed by a whole fusillade of cracks. He was standing on a frozen lake. His heart jumped into his throat. Then with calm lucidity, he carefully knelt, putting his weight on all fours. More cracks. Damn. Well, if the chamber goes under, at least it is water-tight and temperature-controlled. Maybe I can retrieve it later. Working quickly, Jay pulled a nylon cord from his emergency carry pack and tied it to the tow ring on the nearest end of the chamber. Leaving the life-support chamber behind to its fate, Jay crawled on hands and knees toward the embankment, paying out the nylon cord as he inched across the ice. A few steps from the bank, he stood
only when he was fully confident of support. Then he clambered up the embankment, pulled off his gloves and securely fastened the nylon tether cord to a sturdy pine trunk. Let the damn thing sink now! he thought
His pain was masked by the cold; even his gloved hands were numb. Bracing the SatCom between arm and body, he removed his gloves again and activated the direction finder. “Record position,” he keyed, then hit the display key. A full color map image glowed on the tiny screen; his position blinked in yellow. The location of the base of a tiny glacier arm, the original rendezvous point, was blinking in light blue.
Robertson looked back at the lakebed. The “dolphin coffin” was gone; the hole in the ice through which it had fallen was already freezing over. But the nylon line had held; it was a bright orange thread leading from frozen lake to snow draped pine, partly obscured by snow spray.
Suck it up Robertson. Not a second to waste.
Quebec
While Jay Robertson was struggling in the Andes, Hugh McCahan and Samantha Delaney, driving a newly rented MitsubiKraft Hover, had arrived at a gate on the edge of Uncle Jim and Aunt Nadine’s ranch. McCahan had acquired the hover in Toronto, using one of his working aliases. Then he had used an old style pay phone to leave a cryptic message, that when translated, amounted to: “McCahan: Sam and I are safely hidden”. The message was left with a certain attorney’s Toronto offices and it would reach GFE in Australia as a routine fax within the day.
Their circuitous 10-hour drive had left them hungry and eager to get to shelter. It was late morning and raining heavily. McCahan had just yielded the driving to Sam. The ranch covered 400 acres in a wooded area about a forty-five minute drive east of the small Quebec “dissident” community called Saint-Exupery’s Village. As the car blew across a rutted muddy road on the outskirts of the LeFevre Ranch, sleet was pelting against the windshield. Sam looked to her right. Hugh was resting against Schrödinger. Both man and animal had fallen asleep in the front seat. “We’re almost home, big fellah,” she said.
The Stranded Ones Page 15