Исай Лукодьянов - The Black Pillar

And that was all. In four hours' time exactly the clockwork mechanism would begin to function and the jet engine, having then been fired by it, would propel the platform toward the black pillar. At the moment of impact with the pillar, a second mechanism, connected with the detonator fuse of the atom bomb, would be switched on. The fuse would detonate a charge after an interval of seven minutes. Within those seven minutes the pillar would have carried the container and the bomb to a height of sixty kilometres. The fuse would then operate, and the "fire-fly" would explode in accordance with all the rules. The guided explosion would smash the pillar, the short circuit would be broken, and the automatic devices would be switched on instantaneously. Powerful fields of force, emanating from this apparatus, would come into precalculated contact with the field of the pillar and compel it to change direction. The pillar would come to a standstill. As to its severed upper part, it would remain in space. It had already completed just over one revolution round the Earth and it would interfere with nobody.

And in the evening holiday illuminations would blaze out in all the cities all over the planet. If he could switch to Moscow for that evening! Everything had been done. They could leave now. Four hours gave them ample time, not only to return in the launch to the "Fukuoka Maru", but to have a cup of tea with Ali-Ovsad, as well. Kravtsov was in no hurry. He raised the shield of his helmet in order to hear the clockwork mechanism working. Jim lifted his shield too. The hot air burned their faces.

Tick, tick, tick. Distinctly, methodically, the clockwork on the edge of the immense deserted deck counted out the seconds. "Right, Jim, let's go."

But suddenly a new sound intruded on the clockwork ticking. It was also a ticking sound, but it did not coincide with the first. Softer, more rapid, with a slight musical resonance…

No one ever discovered why the timing-device of the atom bomb detonator got switched on. It was to have started functioning four hours later, when the platform struck the pillar. But now… Kravtsov stared aghast at Parkinson, who shrank back slowly, his lips trembling, his eyes filled with horror…

Seven minutes! Only seven minutes-and the explosive charge would dash two lumps of plutonium together. The violent burst of energy thus released would demolish the rig, and with it the apparatus.

And the black pillar-two hundred and fifty metres away-might not even suffer. The explosion would not affect it: the bomb must be close up against.

Ting-ting-ting.

The ticking of the timer seemed to pierce his brain.

Should he take the mechanism to pieces and stop it? In seven minutes? Nonsense!

Should they run and throw themselves into the launch? They'd never have time to reach a safe distance…

There was no escape. No escape.

And what would people do afterwards, without them, without the rig? Build another rig, another apparatus? But the cosmic rays would not wait.

No!

No!

How long has passed already? Half a minute?

Ting, ting.

Kravtsov leapt up and pushed with his hands against the back of the platform.

"Jim, quick!"

Jim's hands were there, beside Kravtsov's. They tried pushing the heavy platform, but it did not budge; again they tried and again…

"Come on!" gasped Kravtsov. "Come on!"

It moved!

The platform jerked and moved along the rails. They ran, pushing it with their hands. Faster, faster! They could hardly breathe. The air was like fire in their throats: they had not had time to lower their shields.

The platform gathered speed, and was already being pulled by the pillar; a little more, and it would run on by itself, and the pillar would seize it and carry it up, higher and higher, at a speed of nearly nine kilometres a minute… Kravtsov glanced at the dial of the timer. They'd lost only two minutes. They'd be in time. It would explode high enough up. Perhaps not sixty kilometres- but forty kilometres, anyway.

"Nothing will happen to us, we'll cover our faces, and lie face downwards on the deck. The explosion will be horizontal, at an immense height. Radiation? We're wearing hermetically sealed protective suits, and so are the men in the launch.

"It's all right. Only drive it on faster. Come on! A bit more!

"I don't want to die…"

Jim's muffled voice said: "That's enough… It'll go on by itself now

"A bit more! Come on!"

A mad race! Jim tripped over the head of a bolt and fell with a crash; an agonizing pain shot through his arm.

"Stop!" he yelled, panting for breath.

But Kravtsov ran on and on.

"Alexander! Stop!"

What was the matter with him? Why did he?…

A terrible thought struck Jim.

"A…a…a…"

Frantically he banged his uninjured hand on the rail, crawled along, stared with his eyes starting out of his head at Kravtsov's receding protective suit.

Kravtsov was no longer running after the platform. The platform had drawn him to itself and he could not tear himself away or jump to one side. His legs were being dragged helplessly along the deck…

He fell horizontally… Like falling over a precipice…

"Alexa…a…a…"

A violent spasm contracted Jim's throat.

The platform, shrouded in a cloud of steam, had reached the base of the pillar. Jim caught a glimpse of a grey-blue protective suit. Then there was a hollow thud.

Jim closed his burning eyes.

Suddenly he remembered the men, they had left in the launch. Jim jumped up and ran, panting, to the edge of the rig.

Leaning over the rail, he opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came; he was unable to catch his breath and shout.

The Japanese sailors in the launch noticed him, and stared up at him.

"Get below!" Jim yelled at last. "Under the deck! Shut the hatch! Close your helmets! Faces down!"

He saw them start running about in the launch.

Jim lifted a hatch in the upper deck and groaning with the piercing pain in his arm, jumped down. How dark and close it was there!

He slammed the hatch after him.

A tremor shook the rig. The prolonged low distant rumble of the explosion echoed and re-echoed.

The flags of the flotilla were at half-mast.

The saloon of the "Fukuoka Maru" was flooded with electric light. All our friends were gathered there, except Will and Norma Hampton, who had to stay in their cabin.

Jim Parkinson was not there either. After the explosion had finished blazing and roaring in the sky, a signals ship with atomic engineers and a band of volunteers on board was sent to the rig. In the tiny cabin of the launch they found the three terrified Japanese sailors, who only knew that just before the explosion a man in a protective suit had appeared overhead and shouted a warning to them. The volunteers, in protective suits, boarded the rig and searched the whole deck. The Geiger counters suspended from their protective clothing recorded a lower level of radioactivity than they had expected. After a search lasting several hours they had almost given up hope of finding Kravtsov and Parkinson, when Chulkov, who was one of the volunteers, suddenly raised a hatch and flashing his torch, saw a man in protective clothing lying at the bottom. Parkinson was in a dead faint. He came to in the cabin on the return journey, but did not utter a word, and there was a wild look in his eyes. It was only in the sick-bay of the "Fukuoka Maru" that he recovered a little from the shock and was able to recall what had happened. The search for Kravtsov was called off. Jim's broken arm was put into plaster.

No Alexander Kravtsov…

There was a hush in the saloon. From time to time a steward came in with a pile of radiograms on a black lacquered tray and put them on the table before Morozov and Tokunaga. Congratulations were pouring in from every continent. Congratulations-and condolences. Morozov glanced over the radiograms and read some of them out in a low voice. The Japanese academician sat motionless in an armchair, his eyes covered with his hands. He looked particularly ill that day.