John nodded and headed for the sledge. As they rode away he saw one of the blades on the second windmill fly off and strike the one behind it, breaking two of its blades and starting a chain reaction of destruction that brought a smile to his weary face. A job well done, he thought with satisfaction.
After her blowup in the Skynet lab Clea had gone to her own lab to work on her abandoned projects. For one thing, it gave her more freedom to watch the three mystery travelers. For another, it gave her some relief from Viemeister's irritating possessiveness.
He'd been avoiding her conspicuously in the cafeteria, which had given her an opportunity to meet some of the other scientists. To Kurt's great annoyance, which of course she enjoyed. His self-imposed distance meant he was less likely to burst in on her while she was spying on the travelers. A small bonus that did little to make up for the disappointment the human had caused her.
One of the seals, the smallest, had dropped dead of exhaustion after nearly thirty-six hours of humping its way across the ice—the animals weren't designed for overland travel. It had made a useful snack for the others, though. Fortunately the humans allowed themselves rest and meal breaks, and so the other three seals were able to keep up, though they were hardly thriving.
The I-950 had begun to suspect where the travelers were heading several hours ago and so she had let two of the animals rest while sending the third, and she hoped strongest, one on to watch the intruders.
The humans stopped the skimobile and hiked toward the top of a low rise. Just before they reached the top the three of them dropped to their bellies and
crawled the rest of the way. Well, Clea thought, that's significant. The only wildlife out there was behind them—watching their every move—so they certainly weren't naturalists being careful not to startle the animals, and geologists rarely felt compelled to sneak up on their objects of study.
Just above the rise where the three humans lay, the seal's weak eyes made out a number of vague somethings making sweeping, repetitive motions.
The wind farm, the I-950 thought. I knew it! Unless she missed her guess, the base was about to become much, much colder and darker. I'm glad I've got Kurt's latest backup. He hadn't done much work since she left but had sat brooding for the most part. Poor Kurt, she sneered, he has so little control of his emotions.
Clea got up and shut down her lab, then headed for her quarters. She might as well get out her cold-weather gear while the lights were still on.
The lights flickered and Tricker glared up at the fluorescents as it in threat.
Unimpressed, they went out. "Shit," the agent muttered.
He got up, feeling his way around his desk, and opened the door to the corridor.
Outside emergency lights provided dim illumination and other doors began to open. Then the lights flickered again and went on; less bright, but at least they were steady.
Tricker went back to his office and his phone rang even as he reached for it. It was the base commander. "We're on emergency power," she said crisply.
"According to the boys in the plant, the power from the wind farm fluctuated and then suddenly cut off."
Well, what do you want me to do about it? Tricker thought. Since when am I an electrician? Though, to be fair, having all the windmills stop producing electricity at the same time was suspicious, and suspicious events were his bailiwick.
"Depending on what's gone wrong, we might need to evacuate," she continued.
"If we cut back on our power consumption we have up to seventy-two hours of fuel to run the emergency generator, or thirty-six at our present rate."
He heard her breath hiss into the phone. "If we're going to be gone I need you to make this place secure. Do you understand?"
Duh! "Yes, ma'am," he said briskly.
"You'll coordinate the evacuation with your counterpart at McMurdo. And you'll be responsible for the scientists' backup material. I don't want any sensitive material left around."
It's in the manual, lady. Something I've had plenty of time to memorize incidently. "Yes, ma'am," he said aloud. "What about the weather?"
"They're predicting a severe storm within twenty-four hours," the commander said. "So it's important that we get our charges to safety if necessary."
"They're in good hands," Tricker said.
Silence greeted his assurance. "They had better be," she said coldly, then hung up.
Bitch, he thought, and hung up the phone. He'd learned long ago not to indulge in open comments about a superior. Besides, he well knew that the entire base was wired for sound—he and the commander had duplicate recordings. But as yet they couldn't monitor his thoughts. Thank God.
He turned off his computer and headed off to ride herd on the sometimes eccentric and often degenerate geniuses under his care.
Four and a half hours later his pager vibrated; a glance at the readout informed him that once again the commander wished to speak to him. I never thought I'd be happy to hear from her. But after spending the morning telling these people that they had to back up their work and erase their hard drives, he was ready tor a break.
He returned to his office, picked up the phone, and punched in her number.
"Tricker," he said when the phone was picked up.
"We have another problem," the commander told him.
Tricker waited, feeling stubborn. If there was something to tell him she would just spill it if he waited long enough. Meanwhile he was in no particular hurry.
"The water pump has broken down." she explained, a slight edge in her voice.
Tricker rubbed his face with his free hand. Sabotage? he wondered. "Wait a minute. Wouldn't it shut down anyway with the power off?"
"The water pump has an independent system. We're sending someone out to investigate."
"What about the windmills?" Tricker asked. "Anybody gotten back to us on those?"
"They're destroyed," she said. Her voice sounded thoughtful.
"My first thought is sabotage," he said honestly.
"As it should be." The commander sounded amused. "However, initial investigation indicates that the seals were degraded. The investigator said they'd basically turned to powder. The windmills had nothing to control them, so when the wind rose they just broke up."
"Do we have replacement parts?"
"Not enough on hand to meet our power needs," she said. "We didn't anticipate all the seals going at once, and then the rotors destroying themselves. So obviously the evacuation is on. Even if we had running water, which we don't, we couldn't stay here. Round 'em up, Mr. Tricker, move 'em out."
"Just Tricker," he said impatiently. Then he realized she'd hung up.
Excited, Clea decided to risk contact with home base; the humans would be busy with the power crises and so might miss the transmission. It was important that this information be passed on. To her surprise Alissa was awake.
*Are you well?* Clea asked.
*As well as can be expected. I'm not yet fully mature. I estimate that I'm the human equivalent of fifteen years old. But I look adult with the right makeup and
accessories.*
*Excellent,* Clea said. *I have news.* Silence greeted the announcement.
Naturally, Clea thought, feeling embarrassed. She wouldn't have made contact for no reason. I've been around humans far too long if I actually expected a different reaction. *I have reason to believe that von Rossbach and the Connors are here and busily performing acts of sabotage.*