Volcano Island Ch 6
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
Chapter 6
Strike Commander Thoroski sat on the edge of the seat of his command chair, observing the scene on the forward screen. A planet swam beneath them, hazy with clouds. A large expanse of blue, dotted with green and brown patches of land was displayed for their viewing. The northern pole was capped in a generous expanse of white, like a jaunty hat, although the southern pole could not be seen from this angle. Two moons, one at least twice the size of the other, orbited the planet.
Lieutenant Carson, at the scanners, glanced around. "They're gone, sir. They disappeared over the horizon."
Thoroski swore softly and pressed the transmit button on his chair arm. "M'lord Pomothvor?"
The icy tones of the Jilectan replied at once. "Your report, Strike Commander."
"The ship is gone, M'lord. They went into the atmosphere in a dive and disappeared."
"Indeed." There was a silence and Thoroski felt sweat start out on his face.
"I'm sorry, M'lord. They were too far away."
"Did you identify the vessel?"
"A class three scout, M'lord. It's possible that they were simply explorers, here by accident."
Another pause. Then: "I do not believe so, Strike Commander. Who was monitoring the scanners when the ship vanished?"
Lieutenant Carson turned, his face stark white. Thoroski met his eyes across the control room and swallowed. "Lieutenant Carson, M'lord."
"Have Carson report to my stateroom at once and then prepare for landing as soon as the island is located."
"Yes, M'lord. You don't wish to pursue the ship?"
"No. If their goal is the same as ours, it will not be necessary."
"Yes, M'lord," Thoroski said.
The com switched off and Carson came to his feet. Thoroski also stood up. "I'm sorry, Paul," he said.
Carson affected a careless shrug. "It's not your fault, sir," he said.
Thoroski put a hand on his shoulder. "Be very humble. Don't show any resistance, and don't try to deny it when he blames you. Understand?"
Carson nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Better go," Thoroski said, and resumed his seat. Carson stiffened his shoulders and went out.
Thoroski swore to himself. Damn that damned Jil! He had the whole crew on edge, and with good reason. Sublieutenant Greene was in the infirmary because he had come around the corner at the wrong moment and stepped on the so-and-so's toe. Thoroski hoped he would recover. Greene was a good guy. And now, poor Carson had to confront him and admit to a mistake.
Thoroski's lips tightened. Pomothvor, was really bad. Most of the species were quick-tempered and intolerant of the lower races but few of them were physically abusive without real provocation. Pomothvor, however, was exceptionally short-tempered and loved to exercise his power over his frightened subjects.
During his own recovery, Thoroski had learned that in spite of his attitude, Patrolman Fitzgerald, Pomothvor's bodyguard, was deathly afraid of his master, while the Procyon servant lived in terror of him. Rumor had it that Pomothvor had killed his previous servant for bringing the wrong wine while his master had been entertaining a Lady. Thoroski cursed to himself, wishing devoutly that His Lordship would somehow have a serious accident that would take him out of the running for the rest of the trip.
"Establishing orbit, sir." It was Sublieutenant Anthony, at the pilot's station.
"Acknowledged. Let's find that island as fast as possible," he added to Lieutenant Baker, who had replaced Carson at the scanners. "Maybe it'll take the heat off Carson."
Baker nodded. The control room was silent as he scanned. Thoroski resisted the temptation to tap his foot as seconds stretched to minutes. Eventually the officer lifted his eyes from the hooded viewer and sat up.
"Lots of islands," he said slowly. "Sir --"
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"There's a lot of dust and ash in the atmosphere. Makes it hard to pick up details. And I think --" He hesitated. "Initiating detailed analysis, sir." There was a long pause that again stretched into minutes. "Oh, man."
"What's the problem?"
"The dust is volcanic, sir. It looks like there's a lot of volcanic activity down there."
"Possibly because of the wars," Thoroski said. "Do you have the specific island, yet?"
Baker hesitated. "I think so, sir. They're the right coordinates. The island is volcanic, all right. I count …." He hesitated a long moment, peering into the scanner. "Three big ones, and several smaller ones. At least four of them are active. Maybe more."
Thoroski pressed the com button on his chair arm. Maybe the new difficulty would help take Pomothvor's mind off of Carson. "M'lord Pomothvor?"
"Yes, Strike Commander?"
Somewhere in the background Thoroski heard a muted groan.
"M'lord, our scanners are picking up a lot of volcanic activity -- there are several active volcanoes on the target island. It could be pretty dangerous, sir."
There was an uneasy silence. Thoroski wet his lips and waited, knowing he mustn't speak again until the Jilectan replied.
"You may go, Lieutenant," Pomothvor's voice said.
"Yes, M'lord." Carson's voice, carrying over the com, sounded hoarse. There was the swish of a door opening.
"Take us down, Strike Commander," Pomothvor instructed. "Land as far from the volcanoes as possible."
"Yes, M'lord," Thoroski said. He nodded to Anthony. "Take us down. Baker, I want thorough scans done of the island before we land."
"Scanning, sir." Baker replied. "The dust in the atmosphere makes it difficult. We're going to have to get in a little closer for fine details."
Thoroski nodded. "Bring us in, Anthony, but delay the landing until Baker gets his scans."
"Yes, sir," Anthony acknowledged.
Eventually, Baker announced, "Scan complete, sir. The island is in the equatorial belt, of course, so the volcanic temperature effects are less apparent -- the average temperature is around 32 degrees Celsius. Heavy tropical jungle, and what appears to be the remains of a small city down there -- completely overgrown by the jungle. It covers an irregular area of about a hundred square kilometers. Approximately three quarters of it appears to have been completely demolished. Nothing but rubble. The central portion, however, seems to contain some buildings and portions of buildings that are still standing."
If the archives the Jil was seeking so feverishly turned out to have been destroyed, or at the bottom of the sea, Thoroski found himself thinking, the trip back was going to be awfully uncomfortable for the crew of the ship. "Keep scanning, Baker." He pressed a button on his chair arm. "Sick Bay, come in."
Gallagher's voice responded. "Here, Commander."
"How's Carson?"
"Smythe brought him in a few minutes ago. He fainted in the corridor outside and Greg dragged him the rest of the way. He has a big cut over one eye and his arm's badly bruised. He says Pomothvor was twisting it when you called." A pause. "I think he'll be all right, sir."
"Good." Thoroski switched off the unit. "Well, Baker?"
"Uh--" Baker sounded dubious. "There's a place to land in the middle of the city. Looks like a big open space, like a park or something, but actually it's pretty small, and it's all overgrown with jungle. Transferring coordinates to the pilot's station." Another pause. "It might be kind of a rough landing, sir."
"How about it, Anthony? Can you do it?"
The pilot hesitated. "Yeah. It'll be tight."
Thoroski nodded. "Do your best."
Sublieutenant Morgan's voice boomed over the ship wide intercom, announcing landing in five minutes. Thoroski fastened his safety webbing.
The Leviathan descended slowly and Thoroski watched his crew with professional pride. Any other Jil would have no complaints about the smoothness of the landing, but Pomothvor would undoubtedly find something to bitch about, he thought, sourly. They set down on the jungle overgrown, uneven terrain with the gentlest of bumps and Sublieutenant Anthony cut the engines. There was a sudden silence.
Thoroski unstrapped himself, beginning to stand up.
There was a loud "boom" and the deck began to vibrate. Thoroski sat down again, hard, and he heard Sublieutenant Anthony swear unimaginatively.
"Quake," Baker announced unnecessarily. "Pretty respectable one." A pause. "With all these volcanoes, I'd say they probably occur pretty frequently, too. No wonder most of the city is rubble."
"Yeah," Thoroski said.
The control room door slid open and Lord Pomothvor entered, accompanied by his bodyguard. The entire crew scrambled upright and then knelt. The Jilectan surveyed them frostily. "You may rise, Strike Commander."
Thoroski stood up but the rest of the crew remained kneeling, gazes fixed on the deck. The deck continued to vibrate, although with less violence than the initial jolt.
The Jilectan's gaze was upon him, and the Commander felt himself shrink inwardly.
Pomothvor spoke. "Search teams are to be dispatched at once, Strike Commander. I will be remaining on board the ship, but I am to receive constant reports of your progress. If the library is discovered, no one is to touch the archives. Contact me at once."
"Yes, M'lord. I understand."
"Make sure that your men understand as well. If anything happens to those relics due to their negligence, I shall hold you personally responsible."
"Yes, M'lord," Thoroski said, sweating.
The Jilectan turned and went out, accompanied by Patrolman Fitzgerald. Thoroski turned to Lieutenant Maxwell.
"Contact Subcommander Ch'Dreel, Lieutenant. He is to organize the search parties. Be sure the men understand M'lord's orders concerning the articles in question."
**********
The planet's two moons were not in evidence in the hazy night sky, but it didn't matter. The glow from the distant volcanoes lit up the night better than any moon could have done. Another small tremor rocked them as they descended the ramp of the ship. Thoroski felt as if he were stepping into a sauna. The air was very warm and humid. Insects buzzed around his face in a cloud.
"Bad place," one of the men in Thoroski's party commented. "No wonder Pomothvor decided not to come."
"Shut up, Hank!" someone snapped. "You wanna get killed?"
There was an uneasy silence. Thoroski jerked his head and led his party forward through tangled undergrowth toward the buildings beyond.
The night was alive with the sounds of prowling animals and the distant but no less menacing rumbles from the volcanoes. A dark, savage face peered at them for a moment out of the underbrush ahead. Three blasters cracked at once and the thing vanished with a crash of twigs. There was a low growl and then silence.
Thoroski flashed his light over the shrubbery. Had they killed the thing? He doubted it, for the growl had carried no note of pain. Nor had he heard any sounds of retreat.
Wayne Gallagher stepped up beside him, his hand light playing over the matting of vines and branches. "Here's where it might be nice to have M'lord along," he remarked. "Do you suppose the critter's waiting for us somewhere in there?"
Thoroski took a firm grip on his blaster. "Let's go," he said.
There was a reverberating "boom" in the distance and the ground shook. Thoroski said a subvocal cussword, wishing devoutly that he could have thought of some reason to bring Greg along. It would have been nice to have a psychic with them on a mission like this one.
Buildings, smothered in vines and creepers, loomed out of the darkness, broken and crumbling. Something swooped silently past overhead, pale against the darkness. A moment later there was a hoarse chuckling sound somewhere off to the left. Thoroski tried to ignore it and strode on, followed by his men.
The nearest building was ahead and to the right, an ancient half-melted structure with part of the roof fallen in. A little tremor shook them, and gravel pattered about them. There were muted swear words from several of the men. Thoroski flashed his light over the walls.
"Wonder what ancient archives look like," someone remarked nervously. "I really ain't got a real good idea what we're lookin' for."
Thoroski moved cautiously forward, letting his light move over the room's walls and recesses. Nothing. He started to turn around.
A tremendous jolt shook the building and at the same instant a deafening concussion sounded, making his ears ring. The ground beneath his feet bucked like a bronco and began to vibrate violently. Thoroski yelled and staggered forward, aware of the shouts of panic from the men behind him. A doorway loomed before him and he charged toward it, expecting his men to follow.
Above him, there was a rending crash and rocks rained thickly around him. Something clipped him from the rear, throwing him forward onto his stomach. He landed hard against a wall that gave slightly beneath his weight and more debris pattered around him.
He lay still a moment, gasping and feeling still the convulsions of the floor beneath him. The chunks falling from above were becoming more numerous and, realizing his danger, he scrambled to hands and knees, crawling rapidly toward the doorway. The wall collapsed behind him.
Something big and very hard struck his helmet with a dull "clunk". Bright lights burst in his head and he was vaguely aware of the hard, littered floor beneath his cheek, and of debris still pattering around him. Then darkness descended.
**********
tbc
