The Great Hydration

The aftershocks continued for several hours. Castaneda gave the partners reports every fifteen minutes. Underneath what Krabbe regarded as his cowardly hypochondria, he sounded quietly pleased. The planet was responding as calculated, the rehydration of Tenacity proceeding according to plan.

Occasionally O’Rourke broke in, asking if the partners needed extracting from the ruined dome. Krabbe declined. He and Bouche wanted to see the ocean coming back first hand, and the Gamintes were now holding their own.

They had been moved to what soon would be the landward side of the dome. But then something even more dramatic happened. Undermined by the rising water table, an entire slab of land collapsed to re-create the wide bay that had existed in former times. It immediately began to fill with boiling, hissing liquid. The broken dome, its foundations undermined, tilted and slid with a grinding sound until partly submerged in the foaming tumult.

In the part that remained above water, fighting continued. With no participation by the Tlixix, however. They abandoned the dome altogether, leaving it to the dehydrates. A frenzy had ripped them. The sight of an emerging sea seized them with an uncontrollable instinct to respond to their evolved nature. Dragging out metal boats stored for millennia somewhere in the dome, they launched themselves on to the heaving, steaming, bubbling water.

The lurch as the dome tilted sent Karl Krabbe and Boris Bouche tumbling against the wall of the cell they now occupied. Luckily, it was in the half of the dome that stayed above water.

Bouche squealed in alarm and pointed upward. The ceiling was bending and collapsing. The cell was being crushed as the dome deformed. The two scrambled on hands and knees from the contracting space and into the corridor. Here, the ceiling was holding. Their Gaminte guard, having regained his feet on the now-sloping floor, was chopping to pieces two green Artaxa, wielding the great curved axe which the Gamintes used for close fighting.

Finishing the work, he gestured to them. “Come, we must escape.”

Gladly they followed him through the wreckage of the dome, avoiding the sounds of fighting and the squealings and bangs as the ancient metal structure came apart. Eventually he found a rent where the external skin had ruptured.

They emerged on to what was now a headland. A warm fog was everywhere, a phenomenon which must have seemed utterly strange to the Gaminte. He started coughing continuously and seemed to find it difficult to move. Krabbe wondered what his understanding of the situation was, as he loyally followed orders to protect his charges. Probably he thought the rebel attackers were to blame for everything.

A short distance away lay a large vehicle park, a sort of terminus for traffic to and from the hydrorium. Beckoning to them, the Gaminte went limping towards it.

From not much further off, a red glow could be seen.

The fog cleared a little as they neared the park. The source of the glow became visible, spreading to the edge of visibility. A broad front of hissing, smoking lava was advancing on the dome, already lapping around the parked vehicles.

Castaneda had warned that there would be modest vulcanism in some areas, as increased pressure and temperature on the plate edges caused rock melt to percolate upwards to the surface. He had promised that it would cease once sufficient water had been vented.

Evidently, this was one of the affected areas.

“Karl,” Bouche said worriedly, “where’s the communicator?”

“Back in the cell,” Krabbe said. “I dropped it. Don’t worry, O’Rourke will find us.”

The Gaminte was heading straight for the lava. He stopped at an odd-looking craft which lacked wheels but stood on bent legs like some huge insect. Attached by struts above the passenger compartment was a large curved structure made of very thin metal. More than anything, it resembled a parachute.

“This one,” the Gaminte gasped, still coughing. “Hurry. Mount.”

Krabbe held back. “How the hell is that thing going to walk on lava?”

“We’d better do as he says,” Boris muttered.

The Gaminte was already clambering aboard. They followed his example, levering themselves over the side.

The coal-black Gaminte, without waiting for them to make themselves comfortable, seated himself at the controls and pulled a lever.

The result was startling. The vehicle leaped high into the air, taking the Earthmen by surprise and sending them tumbling to the floor of the car.

The Gaminte knew what he was doing. He manipulated other levers which altered the angle of the parachute structure over their heads. The vehicle entered a controlled glide.

Peering below them, Krabbe and Bouche could see no end to the lava field glowing through the drifting fog. It was, more correctly, a lava swamp. There were patches of solid ground here and there, the yellow sand seeming to be turning black.