The Great Hydration

During the early planning Engineering had proposed using an archaic technology—hydrogen fusion—for the shock tubes on grounds of economy. Both Castaneda and Northrop had vetoed that. Hydrogen fusion couldn’t be tuned fine enough for a controlled shifting of the tectonic plates without serious risk of widespread vulcanism. The tubes were to use helium fusion, a standard if old-fashioned technique.

“No sir, of course not.”

“Well, where’s Castaneda?”

“He’s here with me now, sir.”

Krabbe’s fury returned. “Castaneda, what the hell are you doing up there so soon? Why aren’t you down on site?”

“I’ve got lung cancer, sir,” Castaneda answered dolefully. “It’s all the radon gas I’ve been breathing, a breakdown product of radium. The atmosphere’s full of it. Radpaint can’t protect you against that.”

“For heaven’s sake don’t be such a sissy, Carlos,” Krabbe said irritably. “Medbay has a spare lung or two, I expect.”

While they spoke a barrage of explosions rattled the dome. They were coming nearer. Boris Bouche dashed into the apartment, his face feral with excitement and alarm.

“We’re under attack! A revolt against the lobsters! They’re using explosives!”

Through the open door Krabbe saw a scene of frenzy. Tlixix scuttled along the passage as fast as their short stick-like legs could take them, roaring ferociously. Black Gamintes also ran, metal accoutrements clinking and clashing.

Krabbe turned back to the communicator. “O’Rourke, we’ve got a situation down here. What’s the status of the project?”

“The last tube has just been put in place,” O’Rourke said. “Provisional detonation schedule is, er, right now plus one-seventeen minutes.”

“Okay, this is what I want you to do. Pull the team up and detonate immediately. Have you got that?”

“Pull up and detonate. Yes, sir. What about yourselves? Shall we come and get you?”

Krabbe hesitated, glancing at his partner. “No, we are still ‘honoured guests’, so to speak. We’re all right for the moment. Keep me informed.”

He signed off. “Do you think this attack is serious, Boris? Does it happen often?”

Bouche scowled. “We’d understood the lobsters have everything sewn up tight. And explosives are supposed to be unknown here.”

“This is the main hydrorium, for God’s sake!” Krabbe found time to smile. “Well, if this is a large-scale uprising the lobsters will have double reason to be grateful to us. Detonation is coming. That should put the dehydrates in their place!”

A loud crack and a roar drowned out his last words. There was no doubt that this time it came from inside the dome.

A Gaminte appeared in the doorway.

“Invaders have breached the sacred refuge. You are in danger. Follow me.”

Hastily gathering up their effects, the partners hurried after him, away from the fighting.

Castaneda himself transmitted the signal that detonated all eight helium fusion devices at the same time. The small planet rang like a bell. The shock was felt everywhere on its surface. A juddering, then another juddering, and another, as seismic waves travelled through the lithosphere and rebounded on themselves, criss-crossing. The first earthquakes for thousands of years shook the desert, knocking down dunes and hills. The underground caves and tunnels of the lizard species crumbled and collapsed, as did most of the caverns of the camp of the Artaxa.

Tlixix engineering proved itself. The ancient cycloidal domes of the hydroriums, large as they were, mostly withstood the shock. Two, however, were weakened and breached by eruptionite. These cracked open like eggshells.

One of them was the largest hydrorium of all.

Such events were incidental and of little importance to those watching and recording aboard the Enterprise. They watched with satisfaction as sensors buried in the crust sent back data on tectonic plate movement.

Expectantly, they waited for signs of water.

It was not long in coming. Within the hour damp patches appeared on the surface of the sand. Spectrography detected water vapour in the atmosphere.

Then there came muddy stirrings, followed by gushers, scalding waterspouts leaping high in the air. And then blowers—blasts of steam hissing out of the sand, accompanied by sudden uprisings of the desert floor as vast mounds of hot water forced their way through. An ocean was being squirted up from the planetary aquifer, bringing steamy heat with it. Fog and cloud formed. Soon, it would start to rain.

Already the climate was reverting.

And already the dehydrate tribes were in panic, fleeing the deadly liquid in frantic columns, racing for the high ground beyond the ancient ocean bed. Hrityu, rejoicing in victory over the Crome, watched in disbelief as a surging sand slurry came ripping and flapping at running pace towards the ruins of the Analane camp, before those who could do so piled aboard all available vehicles and departed.