wt.theyearofthequietsun-第39章

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　　A　voice　said：　〃Push　the　kickbar。〃
　　He　lay　on　his　stomach　on　the　webbing　facing　in　the　wrong　direction；　and　remembered　that　the　engineers　wouldn't　recover　the　vehicle　until　the　end　of　fifty　hours。　They　had　done　that　when　William　failed　to　return。　Something　was　under　him；　hurting　him；　putting　a　hard　new　pressure　on　a　rib　cage　already　painfully　sore。　Saltus　pulled　the　lump　from　beneath　him　and　found　a　tape　recorder。　He　pushed　it　toward　the　kickbar　but　it　fell　inches　short　of　the　goal。　The　hallucination　slammed　shut　the　hatch　cover。
　　He　said　thickly：　〃Chaney　。　。　。　the　bandits　have　burned　the　treasure　house　。　。　。〃
　　The　tape　recorder　was　thrown　at　the　kickbar。
　　
　　The　time　was　forty　minutes　after　two　in　the　morning；　24　November　2000。　His　fiftieth　birthday　was　long　past。
　　
　　Brian　Chaney
　　2000…plus
　　
　　The　meek；　the　terrible　meek；
　　the　fierce　agonizing　meek；
　　Are　about　to　enter　into　their　inheritance。
　　
　　　　…　Charles　Rann　Kennedy
　　
　　FIFTEEN
　　
　　Chaney　was　apprehensive。
　　The　red　light　blinked　out。　He　reached　up　to　unlock　the　hatch　and　throw　it　open。　The　green　light　went　dark。　Chaney　grasped　the　two　handrails　and　pulled　up　to　a　sitting　position；　with　his　head　and　shoulders　protruding　through　the　hatchway。　He　hoped　he　was　alone　in　the　room…the　vehicle　was　in　darkness。　The　air　was　sharply　cold　and　smelled　of　ozone。　He　struggled　out　of　the　hatch　and　climbed　over　the　side。　Saltus　had　warned　him　the　stool　was　gone　so　he　slid　cautiously　to　the　floor；　and　clung　to　the　polywater　tank　for　a　moment　of　orientation。　The　blackness　around　him　was　plete：　he　saw　nothing；　heard　nothing　but　the　hoarse　sound　of　his　own　breathing。
　　Brian　Chaney　reached　up　to　slam　shut　the　hatch　but　then　stopped　himself…the　TDV　was　his　only　lifeline　to　home　base　and　it　was　wiser　to　keep　that　hatch　open　and　waiting。　He　stretched　out　his　hand　to　grope　for　the　locker；　he　remembered　its　approximate　location；　and　took　a　few　hesitant　steps　in　the　darkness　until　he　bumped　into　it。　His　suit　hung　in　a　dusty　paper　sheath；　prepared　by　a　dry　cleaner　now　many　years　behind　him；　and　his　shoes　were　on　the　bottom　beneath　the　suit。　An　automatic　pistol…put　there　at　the　insistence　of　Arthur　Saltus…now　was　an　ungainly　lump　in　the　pocket　of　his　jacket。
　　The　weapon　underscored　his　apprehension。
　　Chaney　didn't　bother　to　check　his　watch：　it　lacked　an　illuminated　dial　and　there　was　nothing　to　be　seen　on　the　wall。　He　quit　the　darkened　room。
　　He　moved　slowly　down　the　corridor　in　a　black　eerie　silence　to　the　shelter；　dust　stirrea　up　by　his　feet　made　him　want　to　sneeze。　The　shelter　door　was　found　by　touch　and　pushed　open　but　the　overhead　lights　failed　in　their　automatic　response。　Chaney　felt　for　the　manual　switch　beside　the　door；　flicked　it；　but　stayed　in　darkness：　the　electric　power　was　out　and　the　lecturing　engineer　was　a　liar。　He　listened　intently　to　the　unseen　room。　He　had　no　matches　or　lighter…the　penalty　paid　by　a　non…smoker　when　light　or　fire　was　needed…and　stood　there　for　a　moment　of　indecision；　trying　to　recall　where　the　smaller　items　were　stored。　He　thought　they　were　in　metal　lockers　along　the　far　wall；　near　the　racks　of　heavy　clothing。
　　Chaney　shuffled　across　the　floor；　wishing　he　had　that　cocksure　engineer　here　with　him。
　　His　feet　collided　with　an　empty　carton；　startling　him；　and　he　kicked　it　out　of　the　way。　It　struck　another　object　before　it　came　to　rest：　Saltus　had　plained　of　sloppy　housekeeping；　and　Katrina　had　written　a　memo。　After　a　period　of　cautious　groping　the　ungainly　bulge　in　his　jacket　pocket　struck　the　leading　edge　of　the　bench；　and　he　put　forth　both　hands　to　explore　the　working　surface。　A　radio…plugged　in　and　wired　to　the　antenna…a　lantern；　a　few　small　empty　boxes；　a　large　one；　a　number　of　metal　objects　his　fingers　could　not　finmediately　identify；　and　a　second　lantern。　Chaney　barely　hesitated　over　the　objects　and　continued　his　probe。　His　roving　fingers　found　a　box　of　matches；　the　fuel　tanks　of　both　lanterns　jostled　with　reassuring　sounds。　He　lit　the　two　lanterns　and　turned　to　look　at　the　room。　Chaney　didn't　like　to　think　of　himself　as　a　coward　but　his　hand　rested　in　the　gun　pocket　as　he　turned　and　peered　into　the　gloom。
　　The　raider　had　returned　to　pilfer　the　stores。
　　From　the　looks　of　the　place　the　man　must　have　spent　the　last　few　winters　here；　or　had　invited　his　friends　in　with　him。
　　A　third　lantern　rested　on　the　floor　near　the　door　and　he　would　have　knocked　that　one　over　if　he　had　stepped　sideways　in　the　darkness。　A　box　of　matches　lay　ready　beside　it。　An　incredible　number　of　empty　food　cartons　were　stacked　along　a　wall　together　with　a　collection　of　water　cans；　and　he　wondered　why　the　man　hadn't　hauled　the　boxes　outside　and　burned　them　to　be　rid　of　an　untidy　mess。　Chaney　counted　the　cans　and　boxes　with　growing　wonder　and　tried　to　guess　at　the　many　years　separating　Arthur　Saltus　from　his　own　recent　arrival。　That　reminded　him　to　look　at　his　watch：　five　minutes　before　nine。　He　had　the　uneasy　suspicion　that　the　TDV　had　sent　him　askew　once　again。　A　plastic　bag　had　been　opened…as　Saltus　had　reported…and　a　number　of　winter　garments　were　missing　from　the　racks。　Several　pairs　of　boots　were　gone　from　their　shelves。　The　bundle　of　mittens　was　broken　open　and　one　had　fallen　to　the　floor；　unnoticed　in　the　darkness。
　　But　there　was　no　spilled　food　on　the　floor　despite　the　litter　of　cartons　and　cans；　every　scrap　had　been　taken　up　and　used。　Nor　were　there　signs　of　mice　or　rats。
　　He　whirled　to　the　gun　rack。　Five　rifles　had　been　taken　plus　an　undetermined　number　of　the　Army…issue　automatics。　He　supposed…without　count…that　an　appropriate　amount　of　ammunition　had　gone　with　them。　Major　Moresby　and　Saltus　would　have　accounted　for　two　of　the　rifles。
　　The　tiny　metal　objects　on　the　workbench　were　the　insignia　Moresby　had　removed　from　his　uniform；　and　Saltus　had　explained　the　reason　for　their　removal　in　bat　zones。　The　empty　boxes　had　contained　reels　of　tape；　nylon　film；　and　cartridges；　the　one　remaining　larger　box　was　his　bullet…proof　vest。　The　map　revealed　the　usual　layer　of　dust。　The　radio　was　now　useless…unless　the　supply　of　batteries　had　survived　the　intervening　years。
　　Years：　time。
　　Chaney　picked　up　both　lanterns　and　walked　back　to　the　room　housing　the　TDV。　He　crossed　to　the　far　wall　and　bent　down　to　read　the　calendar　and　clock。　Each　had　stopped　when　the　power　line　went　out。
　　The　clock　read　a　few　minutes　of　twelve　noon；　or　twelve　midnight。　The　calendar　'stopped　measuring　time　on　4　Mar　09。　Only　the　thermometer　gave　a　meaningful　reading：　52　degrees。
　　Eight　and　one　half　years　after　Arthur　Saltus　lived　his　disastrous　fiftieth　birthday；　ten　years　after　Major　Moresby　died　in　the　skirmish　at　the　fence；　the　nuclear　power　plant　serving　the　laboratory　failed　or　the　lines　were　destroyed。　They　may　have　destroyed　themselves　for　lack　of　replacement；　the　transformers　may　have　blown　out；　the　nuclear　fuel　may　have　been　used　up；　any　one　or　a　hundred　things　could　have　happened　to　interrupt　transmission。　The　power　was　gone。
　　Chaney　had　no　idea　how　long　ago　it　had　failed：　he　knew　only　that　he　was　somewhere　beyond　March　2009。
　　The　outage　may　have　happened　last　week；　last　month；　last　year；　or　at　any　time　during　the　last　hundred　years。　He　hadn't　asked　the　engineers　the　precise　date　of　his　target　but　had　assumed　they　would　fling　him　into　the　future　one　year　following　Saltus；　to　reconnoiter　the　station。　The　assumption　was　wrong…or　the　vehicle　had　strayed　once　more。　Chaney　ruefully　concluded　that　it　didn't　matter；　it　really　didn't　matter　at　all。　The　ill…starred　survey　was　nearly　finished；　it　would　be　finished　as　soon　as　he　made　a　final　tour　of　the　station　and　went　back　with　his　report。
　　He　carried　the　lanterns　back　to　the　shelter。
　　The　radio　took　his　attention。　Chaney　dug　out　a　sealed　carton　of　batteries　and　fitted　the　required　number　into　the　conversion　unit。　The　band　selector　was　swept　over　the　military　channels　and　back　again；　without　result。　He　turned　up　the　gain　to　peak　and　held　the　instrument　to　his　ear　but　it　refused　to　give　him　even　the　airy　whisper　of　dead　air；　the　lack　of　hiss　or　static　told　him　that　the　batteries　had　not　survived　the　passage　of　time。　Chaney　dismissed　the