Rising Storm

Soon the governors would burn out and without the seals so would the hydraulic pump, while the blades broke up under the stress.

Which meant that the hidden base would be completely out of power in less than a day, turning the place into a deep freeze. But just in case the base had some other means of generating electricity, their next stop would be a visit to their

water-pumping station. Behind him the level whine was grating higher, turning into a protesting squeal as the ultra-tough composites began to stress beyond their design parameters.

CRACK! Dieter and John both spun and began to drop, an automatic response to what their trained reflexes interpreted as an explosion. They completed the movement; one of the windmills had disintegrated, and lethal splinters might well reach across the three hundred yards to the two men.

'Didn't think it would happen that fast,' John said.

Dieter looked up, brushing himself free of snow. 'The wind is picking up,' he said. 'Must be nearly fifty by now.'

Wendy was already seated on the snowmobile, and when she saw them come over the rise she started it up. The movement of her head looked a little wobbly to him, and her hand as it reached for the starter had seemed clumsy and slow.

Suddenly he noticed something he'd missed while working below. His haste had kept him relatively warm, but the temperature had dropped. And Dieter was right. It is getting to be storm level. John looked up at the sky and realized that the hurrying clouds were also thicker and more threatening.

He glanced at Dieter.

'We'd better hurry if we're going to make it before this storm breaks.' The Austrian looked from John to Wendy. 'I'll ride in front of Wendy to shield her from the wind,' he offered. 'Also, I'll probably throw off more heat than you would.'

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