Attack From Atlantis, page 12
managed at least to get it to work to some extent for a while.
It was then that K'mith's elder brother, and the real father of S'neifa—his father, the brother of his father, as he put it—had decided to find and bring back a surface dweller. And they'd learned English from Muggins and the books and broadcasts that they were beginning to pick up.
"Most of the people want to stay isolated still," S'neifa told Don. "I know how you feel about your people being locked up, my younger brother. But my people are afraid that the upper world knows too much and is too dangerous. We have heard of your great bombs and your atomic power. We have even heard that you can defy gravity and float on the air."
"Not exactly defy gravity," Don told him. "We use big planes, something like your sea sleds, and go through the air so fast that it doesn't have time to escape from under the planes before we are gone— or that's one way of explaining it."
"It's still a miracle. And we can't trust people who have learned so fast. So the Council voted that all those from the surface who knew about us and could report must stay here. We asked them to promise never to try to leave, but nobody would promise. So we have them where they are safe."
"It won't work," Don told him. "They'll build more submarines, and even stronger ones. They'll explore every inch of the ocean floor some day. And when they find you, they'll be further ahead than now.
S'neifa, there are hundreds of millions of us, and only thousands of you. A few thousands can't possibly invent and discover as fast as hundreds of millions. The longer you put it off, the worse it will be."
S'neifa sighed, and nodded. "I have thought of that. But the Council and the people—they hope that one of your great wars on the surface will end all danger from you. Then we can come out slowly and lead the few who still live to a better life."
"You mean to your kind of life?"
"They mean to this kind of life, of course, but both on the surface and here. I—Don, I don't know. There are things in those books—and . . . Tell me, you have been educated already, haven't you?"
Don's breath caught in his throat, and he sputtered. The question had caught him unprepared. If anyone found that he had a good education and could understand the things he saw here—then he'd be locked up with the others, and there would be no chance to escape.
"Don't answer," S'neifa said slowly. "Education is not only what you know, but how you think. And you think like one who has a great deal of education. I knew this long ago. You can read—and much more."
Reluctantly and fearfully, Don nodded. "About the same stage for my culture as you are for yours. I started school when I was six."
"If I—" S'neifa began, and there was a hungry look in his eyes.
But he didn't complete the sentence. A muffled gasp sounded from beyond the door of the room. S'neifa jerked to his feet and went out the door, already dropping to his knee and beginning to bring his head down. There was a rapid patter of Atlantean. Then S'neifa must have gone out, from the sound of his feet. The girl came in and stood gazing at Don with serious eyes.
He wanted to ask for her silence—but there was no way in which he knew of making an appeal. He bent his head in resignation, until her voice reached his ears. "You are a fool, Don K'Miller to be," she said. "A silly, silly fool. Now I know a secret. A secret, a secret. . . ."
She chanted the last, and suddenly swung and was gone down the room and away. If she were going to tell K mith . . .
A white-faced S'neifa came into the room, before Don could make up his mind. He shook his head doubtfully. "I—I don't know, Don. She listens a lot-even to my lessons—when she isn't supposed to. She doesn't tell, usually. But sometimes . . ." He dropped it unhappily, and threw a piece of paper-like material down. "Since you can read, look at this. Our radio was active yesterday, and we received the news from the suface."
Don picked it up, and scanned it quickly. Then he groaned and read it through again. It was a brief summary, but it showed that his government had entirely misunderstood the bit of his SOS they had heard. They believed that an enemy nation had attacked the Triton, and were demanding satisfaction.
The nation they were accusing was angry at being accused. And the strained relations were leading them both straight into the horror of an atomic war. In a few more days, it would surely start!
The only hope for peace lay in his finding some means to escape; and if a twelve-year-old girl told her secret, there was no chance at all!
Chapter 15 Incomplet
e Barrier
on went out, with Shep trailing behind him. The dog no longer frightened any of the Atlanteans, now that he had been completely identified in their minds with the dog-god who was smiling on them. The people watched, making curious little signs to him. And about the only time they smiled was when they saw him. There was a cloud of gloom over the city, and constant references to some emergency. Don had asked about it, but had been told that it was for adults to worry about, not for children.
He had guessed that it somehow tied into the coming of the Triton and their fear of the upper world, but it was only a guess. And right now, he had too many worries of his own to care about it.
He went past the submarine now, stopping to watch the men who were studying it. They were still letting the atomic equipment strictly alone, but everything else was being gone over with a fine-toothed comb. As one of them had told him, they hoped to learn enough from other things about the science of the
surface to enable them to figure out how the atomic power plant must work. It was a useless hope, Don knew; the technicians here were clever at doing trial and error invention, and they knew every discovery that their race had ever made, including all about the ones that were no longer of any possible use. But they were too practical. They had never developed a theoretical science—and handling atomics involved a lot of theory, too complicated to figure out from the other things aboard the ship.
The Triton was seaworthy, however, which was what Don wanted to know. The rocks that had weighed the ship down had now been removed, and she floated easily. Nothing useful had been taken out. And even the device that created the bubble around her was still attached. One of the men who spoke English saw Don studying it, and moved over.
"We will take it off soon," he said. "After we take out the ship into the water there, and see ourselves how work the motors. You will come along, maybe?"
"When?" Don asked.
"The day after tomorrow, I think."
Don's heart seemed to come up and stick in his throat, but he tried to nod casually, as he moved closer to the device. There would be no chance for an escape, he was sure, with a whole crew of the Atlanteans aboard; they'd be able to cut off their bubble-making gadget at any time if he tried to take the ship up—and without that, even the Triton couldn't stand the pressure. But once they had made their test and removed the gadget, there'd be no chance at all of getting the ship through the dome and into the ocean. Escape would have to be made somehow before that date.
Then the full idea hit. When they took the ship out, they couldn't test it without cutting off the bubble! Yet the second the bubble was gone, the ship would almost certainly be destroyed by the pressure of the seal
He could feel the noose being drawn tighter and tighter about his neck, but he tried not to show it as he drew up beside the group of crystals connected to batteries by oddly twisted wires. "How does this work?" he asked.
The technician shrugged. "You press this lever, and it works. More than that, I do not know. It is for the technicians of the power dome to explain. And to them it is a secret, even from us—if they know. Maybe some day, Don K'Miller to be, when you have been educated and are no longer the child, you will become a power-dome technician. Until then . .
He shrugged again, and pulled the boy away from the device gently. Don had found a few things, however. The bubble spread over solids, but was stopped by anything liquid, such as water, tarry materials, or glass—which acted like a liquid in many ways. The floor of the prison where the Triton crew was kept was of a tarry substance that stopped it. He also knew that it was a lot less simple than it seemed, and that as long as he was considered a child, nobody would talk to him about it.
Yet something kept driving him to find out. With even a small amount of added information, there might be some means of escape. The dome was mixed up in everything—the prisoners were locked in by one, the submarine was immobilized unless one could be thrown around it, and the whole life of the city was wrapped up in it.
He walked glumly toward the building he had spotted before, where the power came in from the volcanic heat plant and was used to create the dome. It was a big round building with a single entrance, and a sign which he knew meant that nobody was allowed in. He had been by a dozen times already, but either the big door had been closed or a technician had been on guard.
But this time, the door seemed to be unlocked, and there was no guard. Don glanced up and down the street, and tapped Shep lightly on the shoulder. "Go home, Shep!" he ordered. The dog whined, but moved away slowly.
No one was around. Don moved up to the door carefully and found it open the barest crack. He stuck his eye to the opening and stared inside, to see a huge room filled with aisles and rows of complicated crystals and a maze of wiring. Far down at one end there was the mutter of worried voices, and he could see movement as someone would occasionally pass across an opening. But whatever was going on was taking up most of their attention.
With a prayer for luck, he moved inside, sliding along the wall and holding his breath as he came to a section of open space. He moved from hiding place to hiding place, studying the big installation as he went. After his years of studying electronics, he had thought that no complicated device could be totally meaningless to him. He was wrong—nothing worked at all like anything he knew.
Then he came to a section that did make sense— because it had been assembled from bits of radio equipment and duplicated parts. But it was disconnected now. He started on, then stopped as he saw a diagram there. The Atlanteans used symbols entirely different from the ones he knew, but with the device itself, he could learn what the various curlicues meant. He tried to photograph it in his mind, before moving on. Another section of Atlantean work had one of their diagrams fastened to it, and he studied that. This time it made sense.
One of the technicians came down the aisle then, barely giving Don warning by the sound of his feet. The man hurried along as Don pulled himself under a table; in the bundle he carried were scraps of paperlike material, scrawled over. He dumped them into a box and hurried back. Don let out a sigh of relief and moved forward to pick up the marked-up diagrams.
The sharp bark of a dog echoed in the big chamber suddenly, and Shep came bounding along the aisle, straight toward Don. The boy gasped, realizing what a fool he'd been. Shep hadn't been here long enough to consider K'mith's house home. He'd only been confused by Don's order. And now he was back.
Don heard a shout collecting from the technicians and the sound of heavy feet pounding down the aisles. He leaped for the diagram, scooped it up and pocketed it, and then darted away. Ahead there was the flicker of movement. He ducked into a side aisle, with Shep leaping along.
"Get out, Shep!" he whispered. The dog hesitated, then dashed out. Some of the technicians spotted him and gave chase. Don ducked into another aisle, under a table, and down the main aisle toward the door. He saw Shep bounce through, and then was dashing for it himself. He saw someone behind him, but there was no chance to look back. He hit the door, slammed it after him, and darted around a corner, zigzagging through the streets. Behind him, he heard a hue and cry, but for the moment he was safe.
He was sure they couldn't prove he'd been the one in the dome station—but the presence of Shep was suspicious enough. It wouldn't do to go back to K'mith; and the only other place he could think of was the prison. It would give him an excuse for being out, and Muggins might back up his story.
Muggins grinned when he heard Don's hasty account, however. "Nope. You're a child, remember. Don't matter if you do go in there, so long as you don't touch anything. They probably didn't bother looking at you—just wanted to get your dog out before he could get into something. Look, I gotta take food in." He was fastening on the bubble device that permitted him to enter the little dome, and now he winked broadly. "Don't you touch me before I put on power, or you'll be in the bubble, too."
A second later, with Don touching his shoulder and the bubble of force spread out over both of them, he walked through the dome. He snapped off power, put down the food, and turned it on again to leave, pretending not to notice that Don had gotten inside the prison dome.
There was a wild hubbub then, as Simpson rushed up to him and the others followed. His uncle looked thin and sick. "Off my feed," he explained quickly. "The diet here doesn't agree with my ulcers."
It took Don five minutes to answer their questions and assure them that he was all right. Then he had to report on the situation, and they sobered. There seemed to be no way in which they could possibly escape before the submarine was in a condition where it would be useless to them. Yet they had to get out before that time.
Kenney had hovered around, but now he grumbled miserably and stomped back to his cot. "Had a run-in with K'mith this morning," Upjohn explained. "He's still fighting mad. K'mith probably is, too."
But this time it was Drake whom Don most wanted to see. He drew the physicist aside, with his uncle joining them, and spread out the diagram he had found, explaining what he had decoded from the others. Even the most complicated electronic device uses only a few different basic parts, and it was easier to decode than might have been thought. Drake found a sheet of paper in Upjohn's coat pocket and began retracing the diagram with Don's help.
Part of it was peculiar, but the basic setup was familiar to Don. "It's like a signal generator—it simply feeds in several different frequencies to control something. But what?"
It was an hour later when Drake finally shrugged. "I still don't know how it all works, but I think we're right. We know they can control this screen to let through anything from nothing at all through fight, and finally spread it thin enough for gas to come through. This is what does it. If they feed in no signal at all, absolutely nothing at all—no matter what it is or at what pressure—can get through. With the right frequency, they can pick what they want. They must have been trying to tune it properly, because I've notice the thing has flickered a few times lately."
"Anything at all?" Don asked. "Then if the atom bomb were to hit this . . . ?"
Drake blinked, and suddenly nodded. "You're right! They could set this so a million H-bombs wouldn't matter. Great Harry, if we had this . . . We've got to have it! Put up a screen around every city in the world, and war wouldn't be possible—or matter. Don, get back out there, and get twice as busy as you can. We've got to get this back to the surface!"
Don nodded. He'd been thinking the same. He grabbed his uncle's hand quickly, and then motioned for Muggins. The old man came through in a bubble, chuckling. He began muttering false surprise at finding Don inside the bubble, and made contact. Ten seconds later, Don was heading back to the street. It had occurred to him that one of the others might be
AHack from Atlantis
of more use outside, but he knew it was false. Muggins wouldn't have released anyone else—he'd have used his weapon first; and Don was the only one who had a chance to move around freely. For that matter, even if Muggins had been willing to let them out, he wouldn't have dared.
Shep was waiting for him outside, and he headed back to the house of K'mith. His newly adopted father came out to meet him with a sheaf of papers, but there was no anger on the man's face. If the guards had spotted Don at the plant, they must have let it go, as Muggins had said.
"You look excited," K'mith said mildly.
Don caught himself, but the idea that had been taking shape wouldn't hold back. "I've been talking to Drake and my uncle. K'mith, there isn't any reason to be afraid of the surface now! Your screen—it can be set to protect you from the bomb completely. It can—"
K'mith smiled faintly. "I know, Don K'Miller to be. We found what the radiation was from your ship, and the technicians are tuning the dome to handle it now. But there are new developments."
Don suddenly felt silly. His triumph couldn't have fallen flatter. And yet, if K'mith knew they were safe . . . He looked at the paper the older man held out, frowning. It was another bulletin that summarized news received over their radio listening branch. The United States had given the foreign nation an ultimatum—five days to return the Triton unharmed or make reparations; and the other country had replied in a frenzy of angry denial, and given four days for a complete retraction, or what amounted to full war.
Don gasped. He. had no idea the relations were that strained. He tried to imagine a world plunged into the holocaust of atomic war in another four or live days. But it seemed impossible.
"Then you've got to let the Triton go, sir," he said. "You wouldn't want to have war up there, would you? And now that you're completely safe here—"
"Nations only fight nations because they are filled with fear and hate," K'mith said quietly, but there was pain on his face. "If they had been friendly, nobody would have thought a missing ship was attacked by an enemy. The war is not our responsibility. I tried to explain this to your Senator Kenney, and he argued as you do, for a time. And he has convinced me of that hatred. I do not mind being called a spy, murderer, and other things. But I do mind when a representative of your government tells me he will have poison dropped to kill all the life in our waters, on which we eat, and so many H-bombs that no one will ever know there was a valley here."
"But—" Don began.
K'mith put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me finish. You are still a child. But believe me, we do not have a complete barrier. There is one thing which can always come through. And that is hate! So long as hate exists above, we can only exist here by secrecy. And because of that, I must keep your friends prisoners. And I must forbid you ever to see them again, or to go near our dome-control plant. Tonight, see
