3
John and Scott had reached the reactor core, fighting their way through flame and debris with extinguishers, ropes and deftly wielded pry bars. The Mole would have been faster, but drilling under the reactor would only have worsened the containment problem. The tracked burrower was simply too big and unwieldy for such delicate work, and left behind onemonstrous hole. No other choice but to head in on foot, then, and spend as little time there as possible.
The reactor's nuclear heart lay just ahead of them; pulsing a hard, lethal blue. The uranium rods, John noted absently, were just about fully exposed in their cracked and draining tank, beginning to sag and deform from their own fearsome heat. The siren shrieked madly on and on, so loud it was difficult to think straight.
'Water,' he decided, looking around for some sort of emergency valve or wheel. According to Ahmet, something had stuck shut or jammed in the cooling system, shortly before the tank split. The immediate threat, meltdown and china syndrome, would have to be dealt with first, and that meant coolant of some sort. Right the hell now.
Spotting two emergency shut off wheels amidst the tangle of pipes, John directed Scott to one with a quick point, then took himself off to the other. He had to literally hang from the thing to make it turn, not having Virgil or Gordon's great strength, but the wheel finally moved, screeching around in a shower of rusty flakes. Then, with a series of coughing gurgles, water began to flow.
Back at the village, more or less simultaneously, the elderly headman had evidently decided that Gordon meant everyone. Not just men, women and children were clambering aboard Thunderbird 2, but their animals as well. The folk bustled in leading donkeys, herding goats and carrying pets. And all at once, 2 was a giant farmyard.
"Not the livestock," Gordon started to object, attempting to catch a little donkey's halter rope. An old lady peered up at him, though, her wrinkled face anxious, one hand at the donkey's bridle, the other leading a small, dark-eyed boy. She couldn't understand why he'd stopped her, and he didn't know how to explain. All he saw was a smelly, heavily burdened animal, one the old lady and her young charge seemed quite unable to part with. For that matter, neither could anyone else. There were almost as many beasts aboard as people, filling the pod with their strong, musky stench, and their stacks and piles of provisions.
It was all the supplies that finally explained the matter. The donkey, Gordon suddenly understood, with its load of grain and vegetables, represented all of her worldly goods. What would she, or any of them, do without their livelihood? Sighing, he let go the rope and waved her on, even smiling a little.
"Go ahead, Ma'am. Room for everyone, further back."
The old lady said something warm in reply, smiling at him with very few teeth. Then she went determinedly on her way, donkey, toddler, and all.
"Virgil," he groaned aloud, to an uncomprehending herdsman, "is going t' kill me."