Whiteout!

'I suspect,' I said to Kelleher, 'that I've come at the wrong time again.'

He said, 'Oh, boy!'

'Anything I'd understand?'

'Sure,' he said. 'Anybody can understand it. What I can't damn well understand is why?'

'Still can't go critical?'

'It stops us good. There's a major requirement we have here. We've got to have clean water in the kettle. I mean clean water. In the usual installation, what we do is we use distilled water. Here it's not necessary, because the well water is totally pure. Nothing purer than melted snow three centuries old, believe me; it's been tested and it's been used a long time right here.'

'And it's not pure now?'

He shook his head wearily. 'I nearly didn't run a test, do you know that? Damn near. But the book says test and we tested. Water's contaminated.'

'By what?'

4I don't know, It's very small, but it's there. Shows on the scope. We're gonna have to drain, clean and refill. After we find out where it's getting in. Some damn thing, some damn place, is leaking into the pipes. Either that, or . . .' Kelleher didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear. Either that. Or the well itself was contaminated.

Chapter 6

I was about to ask whether Smales knew, but there was no need. The door opened and Smales stalked in, grim-faced. He grabbed a radiation badge and pinned it on as he walked over to us and confronted Kelleher. 'Are you sure?'

'I'm sure, Barney.'

'You tried again?'

'Three times we tried it. Three samples. Whatever it is, it's small, but it's there.'

Smales said, 'Either the pipes or the well.'

'It's got to be.'

'Okay, we'll take stopcock samples right back to the well head, see if we can find where it gets in.'

Kelleher said, 'It could be the well, Barney.'

'I know it. But no man goes down there unless we absolutely have to do it. Can your guys take the samples?'

'Better if they do.'

'Right, let's go.' Smales turned to me and said, 'Talking about suspicions, how come you're always around bad news ?'

'Coincidence, I hope.'

'I hope so, too. Okay, let's move our asses.'

Uninvited, I went with Kelleher, and he made no objection. He carried a plastic pack with him, and when we reached the stopcock nearest to the reactor shed he turned it on so that water was flowing out fast, then broke open the pack and extracted a length of plastic tubing and a bottle. He pushed the end of the tube carefully into the mouth of the drain tap, waited until water flowed through the tube, then used it to fill the bottle. When that was done, he took a glass stopper from its plastic wrapping, sealed the bottle with it and wrapped it again in a plastic bag.

'Whole thing's clean sterile,' he said. 'No dust, nothing.' He put his hand in his parka pocket, fished out a pen, and marked the bottle label with a number. Then we went back to the reactor shed and he ran it through the electronic testing machinery. He said, 'There you are.' The scope flickered. One by one the technicians returned, each with one or two bottles. Every bottle was tested, and every time the scope indicated impurities. Smales stood watching, tight-lipped. Finally, Kelleher sighed and turned to him. 'Sorry, Barney. It's the well. It has to be the well. Something dropped down there.'

Smales said, 'That damn well trench is off limits!'

'I was taken in there,' I said.

'That was with my permission and under supervision. I'm damn sure Sergeant Vernon didn't let you drop something down there!'

'I didn't try.'

Smales said, 'Okay.' He crossed to a wall mike, switched it on and began to speak. We could hear his voice over the Tannoy: 'This is the Commander. I'm sorry to say we need a volunteer again, to go down the well. Any man who's willing, go to Main Street, to the entrance to the well trench, five minutes from now.'

Kelleher said, 'One day you're not gonna have a volunteer, Barney. It's a lot to ask and it's getting worse. Then what'll you do? Order some guy down.'

'No, I won't,' Smales said. 'I'll order no man down that hole. If it happens, I'll go myself.'

Four men stood waiting at the trench entrance, and Smales gave them a little nod of appreciation. I knew two of them, Sergeant Reilly from the tractor shed and Sergeant Vernon. The other two I'd not seen before. They were both privates, one only about eighteen. Smales looked from one man to the other.

'How d'you want to do it? Do I pick somebody, or do we draw straws?'

Reilly said, 'Me, I'd like to see it, sir.'

'Me, too, sir,' the youngster said quickly.

Vernon said quietly, 'I've been down there twice, Major. I know the way.'

Smales turned to the boy. 'How old are you, Kovacs ?'

'Eighteen, sir.'

'Get back to your work.'

'But, sir - ?'

'No reflection on you, son. But go back.'

The boy saluted and left, half-disappointed, half-relieved.

'You too, Jones,' Smales said. 'This is non-com or officer work.'

'Yes, sir.'

That left Reilly and Vernon, and Smales said, 'Reilly, how many men could take over from you in the motor shed ?'

'One, sir. Maybe two.'

'Not enough. You're too fat, anyway. You wouldn't get through the holes. Looks like you're it, Vernon. Sorry.'

Vernon nodded, his facial muscles tight.

'You don't want to back out?'

'Only half of me, sir.'

Smales said, 'When you go, the army's going to miss you, Vernon. Okay, let's get going.'

Captain Herschel came hurrying in, apologizing for being late. He'd been in the bath. Vernon tied his cap's earflaps under his chin, then lifted the bosun's chair down from the steel framework and strapped himself in. 'Ready, sir.' Herschel handed him a lamp and a water test pack.

'Right,' Smales said. 'Take it, Herschel.'

Captain Herschel moved a switch and the rope tightened, raising Vernon from the ground. He fended himself away from the corrugated steel barrier with his feet and then, when he was high enough, sat still in the swaying chair.

Smales and Herschel reached up to steady him, waiting until the chair stopped swinging. Then Herschel said, 'Real still now, Sergeant. You comfortable?'

'I'm okay, sir.'

The electric motor whined again and slowly the chair descended into the well-head, until only Vernon's head showed. 'At twenty feet we'll check the walkie-talkie,' Herschel said. 'Good luck.'

Vernon's head disappeared from sight and the steel cable paid out slowly from its reel. I noticed that it was marked at intervals of a yard, and began to count slowly to myself. The motor stopped again and Herschel spoke into a little radio handset, 'All okay?'

Vernon's voice came back. 'Lower away, sir,' and the cable began to move again. Smales stepped to the edge and looked over and Herschel said warningly, 'You'll watch that cable, Barney!'

'Like a snake.' It was obvious why. Vernon's safety depended upon the cable remaining vertical. If it began to swing, even a little, the swing would be wildly magnified down below, where Vernon would be at the end of the pendulum, and the giant icicles were less than three feet from him. 'He's doing okay,'