Scott lifted his wristcom and called. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. Virgil, come in, please."
"Thunderbird Two. What's going on, Scott? Alan said it might be a Camille."
"No, she's not a Camille, but it's not going to be easy, either. These people have dug a hole in the ground apparently on the theory that the gold will just magically appear if they dig deep enough." Scott shook his head. "It's literally just a damn hole. Not even as big as the Hollock's old well at home."
"Crap. Well, have you confirmed survivors?"
"No, not yet, I'm headed back to the ship to get the Ear. I'll let you know when I've tested the area."
"FAB. I'll be with you in fifty-seven point two minutes."
"All right, Virg. FAB." Scott reached Thunderbird One, and went to an equipment locker to get out 'The Ear', a listening-cum-ground radar device. As he dropped once again from the hatch to the ground, he found the woman had followed him, and was kneeling just beyond his ship's fuselage, rocking back and forth, eyes glued upon him.
Scott refused to meet her eyes, not wanting to inadvertently signal her to approach. He knew he would have to deal with her trauma soon enough, but he wanted at least some time to get a better handle on what he and Virgil were facing.
Moving away from both Thunderbird One, and the dilapidated yurt, he found a likely spot, and lifting the heavy equipment, slammed it down, letting the pole that acted as a stand and ground sensor penetrate the clay a good four inches. When he was confident that it would stay, he deployed the tripod that would steady it, and turned on the heads up display.
Slipping a pair of headphones over his ears, Scott triggered the device, and he heard and felt the sonic 'thump' that went out. Within moments, the display was activated, giving Scott a three dimensional image of the surrounding area underground.
Scott narrowed his eyes as he viewed the results. With his forefinger, he traced the crooked path of the tunnel. He swallowed when he found the tunnel ended abruptly about forty feet in. He looked for any sign of air pockets, but as far as he could tell, the ground was solid dirt.
Glancing at the hovering woman, he flicked a switch to check for heat signals denoting a live body. He sighed quietly when the ground came back a uniform blue. He kept a poker face so as not to set off the woman. He knew she would have to be told, but he needed to report to his brothers, and his father.
Scott flicked off the translator, lifted his wristcom, and called, "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five."
Alan's quick response confirmed that he was expecting the call. "Go ahead, Scott."
"Alan, link me up with Thunderbird Two, and Base."
"FAB." Alan's voice was subdued, telling Scott he was fearing the worst.
"Go ahead, Scott." His father's voice was suitably grave, but it didn't make the report any easier.
"Yes, Father." Scott paused. "I've run a sonic image of the area, and there are no life signs. The tunnel is collapsed at about forty feet in. The tunnel itself is more like a hole than a tunnel, with no supporting structure that I can determine. Going in for recovery will be a dirty, dangerous job. On the other hand, it seems pretty apparent that if we don't do this recovery, no one else is likely to do it."
As he expected, his father responded with a statement of policy. "Son, it's International Rescue, not International Recovery. I can see no reason for you and your brother to risk your lives if there are no lives to be saved."
Nodding, Scott nevertheless said, "Yes, Dad, I know the theory, but there is a life here. This woman has just lost her entire family, even though she doesn't know it yet. She called out to us for help, and we came. It seems a pretty nasty trick to just walk away."
"You know, we could use the laser drills." Virgil piped up, as always supportive. "We don't need to use the existing tunnel. We can create our own, and pretty much eliminate the risk."
Scott nodded. That had been his next suggestion, but it was better coming from Virgil. He didn't want his father believing that the woman's tears had unduly influenced him. "I agree. We can come in from the side. The DX sealant will make the tunneling safe, and we can give the woman some closure."
"Son, I understand your desire to help, but I'm not hearing anything that requires our specialized services. The local authorities can handle body removal. Forty feet is not beyond the capabilities of the local mine disaster teams."
"True, Father, but given the remote location and hidden nature of the mine, it could be days or weeks before anyone else is in a position to respond. And frankly, I wouldn't put it beyond this woman to attempt it herself, or worse, rope neighbors or relatives into giving it a try." Scott shook his head. "Dad, we're onsite now, and we're equipped to handle the job. I just wouldn't feel right turning our backs on this."
"Scott…" Jeff said tiredly. "I have to weigh the time and energy expenditure against the possibility of a more difficult rescue request that could occur at any moment."
"Sir, I'm aware of all the arguments, as you know, and I still feel we should go ahead here." Scott put every ounce of his natural persuasion and own authority into his voice.
"Uh, uh, Scott, I've been uh, reviewing the scans you've taken, and uh, I-I would like you to do a ground punch survey." Brains' request was delivered calmly, but the increased stutter relayed his trepidation at coming between Scott and his father.
"Sure, Brains, I'll set that right up. Scott out." Scott shut off his wristcom, relieved both at being able to delay what seemed likely to be a definite order to pack up and come home, and also at having something positive to do.
He headed for Thunderbird One's equipment locker to get the ground punch equipment. The ground punch was a sophisticated analysis tool that would both take core samples and supply an analysis giving them a detailed description of the geology of the immediate area. It looked like an old-fashioned rock drilling jackhammer, but it was far more intricate, with an onboard analysis system. It could 'punch' out a three inch core to a depth of 200 feet, and could work through just about any substance up to solid diamond.
Scott pulled on heavy work gloves, and hefted the unit, glancing around to decide where to set up. Although he'd been trained to use the device, he wasn't really a geologist, and frankly, the meadow looked uniform to his eye. Shrugging, he walked over to one side of the yurt, and set the device up.
Not quite sure what Brains was looking for, he brought up his wristcom once again. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five. Alan, I've got the ground punch out, can you find out from Brains what kind of depth he wants?"
"Actually, he gave me some programming for it. You just have to be the mule."
Scott shot his grinning brother a dirty look. The punch's onboard computer made some muted clicking as it accepted the data it was being fed from Thunderbird Five's mainframe. Like all of his brothers, Scott preferred to maintain control, but apparently, Brains wanted precise measurements that only a computer program could provide. Scott's only participation would be carrying the unit from one pre-designated area to another.
"That's Commander Mule to you, kiddo."
Alan just laughed. Scott grinned ruefully and signed off, and waited for the computer to tell him where to go. After a few moments, there was a soft tone that caused Scott's eyebrows to rise. Apparently, the program was content to start right where it was. Scott started the device working with a flick of a switch and the machine rumbled to life, pushing a slender metal rod down into the ground.
Each 'punch' would take about five minutes to complete, and there wasn't much that Scott needed to do except hold it steady. He glanced around looking for the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. The ground punch was not a particularly loud machine, especially considering its purpose, but Scott found himself straining to hear the voice of the woman. Finally he thought he could make out that she was in the yurt, softly crying.
At another tone, the machine shut down, and the display lit up with a blinking red arrow pointing away from his present position. He was torn between following the instruction and checking on the woman, but as the sound of the machine died away, she appeared at the door of the yurt, anxiety on her features.
Scott nodded to her, and she took it as permission to approach. She looked at the ground punch in hopeless despair. Scott turned on the translator and explained, "This machine will give us a better understanding of the ground in the area."
With her eyes lowered, she dared a complaint. "You have come all this way, but still you do nothing to save my family. Why do you not go to them?"
"Madam… may I ask your name, please?"
There was no mistaking the surprise in her eyes that Scott would care about such a thing as her name. Her head lifted with a hint of defiance. "My name is Nazira Orozova."
"Okay, Mrs. Orozova. I'm waiting for my colleague in Thunderbird Two to arrive with the necessary equipment. It wouldn't do your family any good if I were to attempt something and fail. In the meantime, I am gathering as much information as I can to ensure our success." Scott nodded gravely. "I know that waiting is hard, but it won't be much longer."
The woman fought hard to keep back her tears, nodding and turning away. Scott wanted to be frank with her. He knew he was giving her false hope. But he feared she would break down entirely when she realized her husband and sons were dead, and he wanted the medical facilities onboard Thunderbird Two available when she did. Still, he felt his cheeks redden with guilt.
Breathing deeply, Scott returned to his job, hefting the ground punch and following the arrow until it turned green and another soft tone was heard. He set up the punch, and while he was waiting, put in a call. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two. What's your ETA, Virg?"
"Hey Scott. I've gotten lucky with a storm in the Laccadive Sea. Nice tailwind. I'll be with you in 24.3 minutes. How's it going there?"
With a glance toward the yurt, Scott made sure the translator was off. "I haven't told Mrs. Orozova the bad news yet. She's not going to react well, and I want to have your infirmary here before I say anything to her."
Virgil nodded solemnly. The look in his eye told Scott he also understood what was unsaid. That Scott preferred to have his brother with him when he gave the devastating news. Changing the subject, Virgil asked, "Do you know what's up with Brains and the ground punch?"
"Not a clue, but you gotta love the guy's timing."
Virgil grinned his agreement, then turned serious. "Uh, Scott, about this morning at breakfast…"
Scott frowned, trying to remember anything that had happened, but with the press of the rescue, his mind drew a blank. "Yeah? Oh, hold that thought, Virg, I have to reset the punch."
"FAB."
Scott lifted the machine again and set off across the meadow, chasing the blinking arrow. As it once again turned green, and he set up the next punch, he caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. Mrs. Orozova approached looking far more composed than she had at anytime since Scott had arrived.
Scott smiled reassuringly at her, and she lifted an eyebrow. "Sir… may I ask your name, please?"
"My name's Scott, ma'am."
"This machine, how does it work? What does it do?"
Scott cocked his head to one side. The questions were ones he had heard in dozens of languages on dozens of rescues. While International Rescue's technology was a closely guarded secret, Scott had learned that having an understanding of what was going on reassured people immensely.
"This is called a ground punch, because that is what it does. It punches out a bit of the dirt under the topsoil and runs it through an analysis to determine the chemical composition."
The woman's eyes narrowed. "So you seek gold."
Scott's eyebrows shot up. The woman's demeanor had changed from frightened victim to hostile suspicion in the blink of an eye. "That's not the purpose, no. The tunnel your husband dug is unsafe. We're trying to determine the best place to start our own tunnel to reach them."
The woman stared at Scott as if doubting his truthfulness. After a few minutes she abruptly turned and stalked back to the yurt, leaving Scott with an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He watched her disappear back into the yurt, then with a mental shrug, turned back to his work.
