“Cannot connect at this time,” came the reply. “Unable to sync with planetary net.”
The chatter of excited voices told Anders that others were coming. Glancing over, he saw Virgil Iwamoto and his dad in the lead. Kesia Guyen and Dr. Emberly weren’t far behind. Dacey Emberly, a sketch pad still held in one hand, was looking anxiously after.
Dr. Whittaker thundered up. “Did you get the door open?”
“Electronic lock is jammed,” Dr. Nez said, his voice tight with effort. “I think the sensor is blocked. The override is on the inside.”
He didn’t ask if Dr. Whittaker had called for help. Anders wondered how much he had overheard of Anders’ attempts to use the uni-link.
Dr. Whittaker assessed the situation. “You’re not going to manage to pry it open,” he said. “Anders, run fast and grab a stone or something else hard. Maybe we can break a window.”
Virgil said, “I have a rock hammer with me.”
Anders dropped back a few paces to give the others room. Dr. Emberly had her uni-link out. Clearly, she’d assessed the situation for herself and didn’t fear Dr. Whittaker’s wrath. Anders felt relieved-until he saw a puzzled expression spread over her hawk-nosed countenance and her fingers move to input a command.
“Not working?” he asked softly. “Mine wouldn’t either. It’s strange. These should be fine. Dad ordered new models for the whole expedition.”
Behind them, there was a sound of breaking crystoplast.
“Got it!” Virgil crowed.
Anders looked. Virgil had bashed a hole through one of the large front windows and was now enlarging the opening with his hammer.
“Bradford!” Dr. Emberly called, her lack of formality a sign of her urgency-while working, Dr. Whittaker always insisted on titles. “My uni-link isn’t working.”
“Mine either,” said Kesia Guyen, her tone slightly embarrassed, as if hoping she wasn’t going to get yelled at for violating the tacit communication ban.
Dr. Whittaker frowned. “We’ll use the com unit in the van. Are you through yet, Virgil?”
Iwamoto pulled back. “I’ve got a good-sized hole.”
“Fine. Let me through. I’ll call for aid. I’m sure…”
What Dad was sure of, he didn’t say, but Anders would have bet the entirety of the tuition fund his grandparents had set up for him that it had something to do with what his mom called “spin control”-putting the best slant on a bad situation.
Dr. Whittaker was not a small man. When he set his bulk on the front of the van, what they all should have expected happened. The front of the van tilted forward, the nose of the craft vanishing beneath the wet ground within moments, the hole in the front window sliding under almost before Dr. Whittaker could pull himself free.
“Marshes,” Dr. Emberly said, her tone acid, “often contain air pockets as well as damp soil and water. I’m guessing that when a great deal of weight was suddenly added, the nose encountered one of those. Take care…”
The van had stopped sliding forward as soon as Dr. Whittaker jumped back and now resumed its slower sinking, nose down. Com unit down. There would be no calling for help that way.
“Virgil, give me the hammer,” Dr. Nez said. “We’ve got to smash one of the rear windows and pull out some of the luggage and food. It may take a while for rescue to reach us.”
Virgil nodded, but he didn’t release his tool. Instead, he bashed at the rear window with all of his strength. The words that slipped from his lips revealed the reason for the violence of his attack at the innocent piece of crystoplast.
“Peony Rose is going to worry,” he said, in a staccato cadence. “Has everyone tried their uni-links?”
Everyone had, even old Dacey Emberly, who had remained back by the picketwood. The failure of the uni-links was a mystery to be delved into later. Right now, they had to get out as many supplies as possible.
Dr. Whittaker had learned the hard way that his bulk was of no advantage in this situation. Dr. Nez moved up and almost pushed Virgil to one side.
“I’ll go in,” he said. “I’m smaller than you. Give me a boost.”
Kesia Guyen worked her way forward.
“I’m smaller,” she said, her voice tight.
Dr. Nez already had his head through the hole in the crystoplast, but his voice came back clearly as he pulled himself into the van. “Shorter, maybe. We can argue later on who weighs more. Anyhow, you and Virgil have people waiting for you…”
“That doesn’t matter,” Kesia said, her voice rising, then breaking. “We don’t need tents or anything. Its not worth the risk!”
“Really,” Dr. Nez was handing out packages as fast as he could. “How long before rescue comes? We’re going to need water purification at least, a med kit. Dacey’s medications…”
Anders joined the line relaying materials back. Dacey had come out to join them. Now her voice, suddenly quavery and old as it had never been before, said, “I think the van’s sinking faster! Langston, you’ve got to get out of there!”
Virgil Iwamoto clearly agreed with her assessment, because the next time Langston Nez’s hands emerged through the hole with a package, he grabbed him by the wrists.
“Somebody,” Virgil shouted, “help me get a hold on him!”
“It’s sinking!” came Dacey’s shrill scream. “Oh, bright stars! It’s sinking!”
Dr. Whittaker shoved forward, almost knocking Kesia Guyen onto her round rump, and joined Virgil. There wasn’t much room, but both men managed to get a hold on Langston Nez and hauled with all their might. However, even as they did so, the bog gasped and gulped, taking into itself the huge bulk of the van as if it was nothing more than a bug.
Anders stood transfixed in horror as Dad and Virgil were pulled forward by the suction, falling to their knees as they strove to keep their hold on the man who had just been buried alive.
Behind him, someone was sobbing-Kesia, from the sound. Anders flung himself forward and began scrabbling like a dog in the mud, throwing out great gobs of the wet, sticky stuff in an effort to break the sucking hold. On the other side of where Dad and Virgil maintained their life-and-death grip, he saw Calida Emberly also digging, her silver hair streaked with mud. Then Kesia Guyen-still sobbing-joined them in their efforts.
Water that reeked of rotting vegetation seeped down Anders’ sleeves. Gritty mud sanded his fingers raw, but Anders kept digging. Was it his imagination or was the sucking pull weakening?
Slowly, horribly slowly, first Dad, then Virgil began to rock back on their heels. For an agonizing moment, Anders thought that meant they had lost their hold on Dr. Nez. He began to dig more frantically, slime and filth splashing into his face. If they’d given up, he wasn’t going to. He’d dig to the planet’s core if he had to, if that was the only way to bring Dr. Nez up from this sudden grave.
Feeling himself tiring, Anders fueled his frantic digging with memories of Dr. Nez-no, Langston, at this moment only the human being called Langston-and his many kindnesses, not just on this trip but over the years when he’d been Dad’s assistant. They weren’t going to leave him here, a body in the mud of an alien world. They weren’t! They weren’t!
Then Virgil gasped. “He’s coming up. We’ve got him!”
Dr. Whittaker said nothing, only grunted with effort, straining to get his feet under him so he could use his full strength and height to pull the buried man free of the grasping muck. He flung himself upwards, bringing Langston Nez, sleek with mud, hanging like a dead man, into the air and light.
“Is he breathing?” Dacey asked.
Exhausted by their efforts, Dad and Virgil had fallen to their knees. Anders half-rolled, half-crawled to look at Langston Nez. Wiping his hands on the seat of his trousers, he cleared mud from the drowned man’s nose and mouth, then held his ear low against lips and chest. He’d taken life-saving only the term before. Now he went through the check routine.
“He’s breathing,” he said. The ground beneath him shuddered. “But we’ve got to get out of here or we’re down going after the van!”