CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
As dawn approached, they were still on the ridge leading down from the plateau, following the same route that the Scout had taken on the first contact journey, but having covered less than half the distance that Keene had estimated. With the runabout’s fuel cells almost exhausted and its yellow-black marking designed for easy visibility, they couldn’t afford to stay up on such exposed ground any longer. It was imperative to find some kind of concealment where the diesel generator could be fitted without inviting detection from search probes.
The ridge ran roughly north-south, and consisted for the most part of heavy flood deposits laid over the scarp of a tilted crustal block falling gradually in the westward direction toward the coastal plains of the newly forming African Sea. Naarmegen’s plan had been to head that way, seeking some kind of temporary haven in the valleys lower down. The eastern side, by contrast, formed the edge of the uplift and was steep and rugged, with faces shaped by immense fractures marking the line of the fault, and breaking lower down into a chaos of rock falls, fissures, and volcanic extrusions. But Joburg lay that way, farther south among the hills beyond the end of the ridge.
As the first light began filtering through the overcast, Keene steered toward the east, looking for a way down. “Why don’t we give that a try?” He waved his hand, indicating ahead and to the left. From the shelf that they were following, a ramp of loose rock and shale, with a steep drop on one side, sloped down toward a broad, gravely basin. The far side of the basin was lost in banks of early mist, and whether or not it offered any continuation on down was anyone’s guess.
“Looks pretty slippery and flaky,” Charlie said.
“It’s probably the last chance we’re going to get before the power runs out.”
“I guess that decides it, then. Go for it.”
Charlie’s caution about the descent being slippery turned out to be too true. The rocks were covered in an algal slime, which with the morning condensation turned them into skating skids. Before they were a quarter of the way down, the runabout was sliding and swerving on a moving wave of scree, its steering alternating between intermittent and nonexistent. The ramp narrowed alarmingly between the drop to the left and a bulge above, but they were carried on through by the tide of rocks converging into a funnel, while Keene wrestled the wheel without effect. Then the ramp widened but tipped outward, sweeping them toward the edge. Keene had lost all control and could do nothing but hold on and let whatever was going to happen, happen. But at the last moment the wheels grounded on the solid rock forming the rim of the drop, and he was able to crash to a juddering halt, slamming the heavy generator set into the rear of the cab behind them. Charlie let go of the hand grips to wipe his palms on the thighs of his jump suit, emitted a long, shaky breath, and managed, magnificently, to say nothing. Keene licked his lips, reengaged drive, and kicked them off back toward the ramp’s inner side.
They reached the basin to find it cut into a maze-like confusion of sandy ridges and fissures, causing frequent changes of direction and doubling back. Some parts of the depression became miniature canyons, with slopes of greasy clay giving treacherous passage past pools of oily sludge, and cracks of unknown depth. By this time Keene was watching the charge indicator anxiously. If they had to, they could have tried rigging the generator here, but the whole area was a trap for sulfurous fumes venting from belowground, stinging in the nose and eyes, and catching the back of the throat. It wasn’t a place to stop, so long as there was any choice.
By now, the ridge they had come down from was no more than a darkening of the mists behind them. The general incline of the basin floor was increasing, but more rapidly in the center which fell toward what turned out to be the head coomb of a valley. The lower reaches narrowed to a chute, while the sides rose to become walls, depositing them finally in a long, sloping amphitheater that ended in a pool fringed by banks of rocks, reeds, and mud. Keene steered gingerly along one side of the pool and halted. Before them, the pool emptied as a waterfall between rock shoulders into a boulder-choked ravine falling away below. There was clearly no way farther down from here. The only course would be back up to the basin, and to try for another route from there.