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38: Bait
Northern Siberia, on the ice-locked steppes and willow savanna of the Sakha region-
Thunderbird 1 touched down just long enough for Scott to hail park headquarters and drop off his snow-suited passengers. Trusting that they'd studied their mission briefings, he called back…
"Stay alert out there and keep in close touch with base,"
…before opening the outer hatch. The storage area had no windows, so TinTin's first glimpse of frigid Siberia came through a swirling cloud of churned-up snow and rocket fumes. First impressions included lung-stabbing cold, weak sunshine, low hills and a great, wide sky.
Two figures burst from a nearby building as TinTin inched her way down Thunderbird 1's loading ramp. Scientists, as it turned out; one talking with Scott over a hand-held comm unit, the other waving.
While the boys unloaded a pair of sleek hover sleds, TinTin shook mittened hands with the nearest man, a bespectacled fellow whose graying beard blended into the fur of his parka.
"Doctor Larry Aginbroad," he introduced himself, having to shout over 1's caterwauling engines. "This is my colleague, Sergei Andropov, chief zoologist. We're glad you could make it!"
"I am very pleased to meet you, Sirs," TinTin shouted back, her breath forming misty plumes. "How may we be of assistance?"
The other scientist was taller, with a red face mostly hidden by snow goggles and a heavy blond mustache. If either of them questioned the obvious youth of International Rescue's field agents, they kept the matter to themselves.
"Moscow's dispatched a couple of heli-jets and an army unit," Dr. Aginbroad told her, stepping aside with TinTin as the first hover sled shot down the loading ramp. He trailed off, amazed, watching Alan gun the sled into a sharp, snow-scattering bank and cut back around, again. The vast steppe echoed with the boy's whoops, shaking snow from several innocentroof tops. The next sled came down with Fermat at the helm, far more sedately.
"Uh… what was I…? Oh, yes: heli-jets. The Russian army has mobilized a unit to contain the situation, Miss, but in the meantime we could use some help reaching a couple of tour buses mired in the north pasture. The drivers lost control when their guidance systems cut out, broke through the ice and wound up sunk to their axels in lake mud. So far, the passengers are remaining calm, but it's getting colder, and a speedy extraction seems advisable."
Added Andropov in excellent, if accented, English,
"The accident site is difficult to reach, with many frightened animals ranging about. Our fences and heating units have failed, confusing the poor creatures. Perhaps… once the 'paying guests' have been safely retrieved… you might assist us with rescuing our animals? The army seems likely to shoot, rather than coax."
He leaked genuine anxiety for the beasts' welfare, and TinTin found herself nodding.
"I am certain that something can be done to help your charges, Messieurs. Is there, perhaps, a park schematic that I might download to the comms?"
Andropov nodded (Dr. Aginbroad had moved off to examine Alan's motorcycle-like hover sled. He seemed very impressed.)
"Inside the main building, Miss," said the Russian zoologist, indicating a squat, rectangular structure of native stone. There were other buildings as well, dorms or guest houses, possibly. Eager to escape the wind's straight-razor bite (and to allow Thunderbird 1 room to take off, again) TinTin followed him inside, stomping snow from her boots.
The interior was a peculiar mix of science outpost and tourist trap, with local crafts and stuffed animals for sale next to scholarly works of paleontology. Somehow, given the name, she'd expected something… 'slicker'. More commercial. Apparently, distance and evil weather had kept the operation marginal.
An elderly woman stood behind the glass sales counter. Her name tag read 'Anya', and her broad, wrinkled face creased itself into a pleased smile when TinTin drifted up to examine the displayed wares. There were hats there, knit from dense, plushy-looking brown fur. Mammoth hair, perhaps? Enjoying the soft, clucking warmth of the woman's emotions, TinTin pointed to an embroidered hat and asked,
"How much, Madame, if you please?"
As Dr. Aginbroad and the boys blew through the doors in a swirl of dense cold and loud voices, Anya pulled out a multi-lingual price list. Five-hundred-fifty standard dollars. Not too exorbitant, really, so TinTin pulled off her left glove and allowed her ID chip to be scanned. She could always borrow pocket money from Gordon, after all…
"The other guests and most of our staff have already been bussed back to town," Dr. Aginbroad was saying. "Seemed like the smart thing to do. Expensive, though."
Outside, Thunderbird 1 lifted away, her noise and vibration causing computer screens to flicker and small items to be knocked from their shelves. TinTin caught a stuffed woolly rhinoceros before it hit the floor, and ended up purchasing that, as well. Anya offered her a plate of ginger cookies and steaming hot tea, which the girl accepted with thanks before rejoining the strategy session. Wonderful folk, Russians.
"…So if you like, we can split up," Andropov was saying, while the lot of them pored over a map of the park. "Dr. Aginbroad can ride with one of you gentlemen, while I take the snowmobile and scout the location of our herd. You will need to be cautious. Besides M. Meridionalis, Pleistocene Park houses quite a number of rhinos, aurochs and cave lions."
Dr. Aginbroad winced, rubbing at his right arm in gloomy reminiscence.
"Dire wolves, too," he cut in. "Pain in the neck, but investors and tourists love a flashypredator."
Alan snorted.
"Predators better watch out for me," he said.
Fermat heaved a quiet sigh, but held his peace. After all, Alan was technically in charge…
The rescue teams fell out this way: Dr. Aginbroad took the first sled with Fermat, to help dig out and unload the furthest tour bus (halfway along Lake Svetlana, in the north pasture). Alan mounted up on the second sled with TinTin. They'd free the nearer, more deeply mired bus. Once the promised heli-jets arrived, two busloads of nervous tourists could be airlifted back to safety in Moscow; mission accomplished.
TinTin quietly vowed to do better at this rescue than she had with the last. For the struggling park's sake, for old Anya and two devoted scientists, everything must be handled as smoothly as Scott or Virgil would have managed it, if not more so.
Bundled up once again, the girl followed the others outside. Dr. Andropov had provided a pair of snow goggles, and she wore her new hat. And, Lord, but it was cold! The feeble sunlight did nothing at all to warm her instantly chilled body.
Seated behind Alan, TinTin wrapped her arms around his waist (and his resultant wild thrill made her blush). The silver-blue sled whirred to life at a button press, then lifted itself on a cushion of anti-gravity, about three feet into the air. Below it, hard-packed snow creaked and groaned.
"Ready, Babe?" Alan called back, over the sibilant wind and humming engine. TinTin nodded.
"Oui. As your brother would say, 'fire away'."
The sled shot forward in Fermat's wake, nearly dumping TinTin in the process. She tightened her grip on Alan as they cut around Thunderbird 1's burnt and muddied track. Stinging bits of ice and gashing wind sought her exposed face, but TinTin was too fascinated to duck away.
Weaving among silvery lakes and bare willows, they passed herds of fuzzy horses and grunting musk oxen. The former bolted, but the latter formed tight circles, snorting and tossing their heavy-horned heads. Obviously, a gate had come down, somewhere. Very earnestly, TinTin looked about for lions and wolves, but only once spied a pair of slinking shadows, dark and swift against glittering drifts.
Most of the park's denizens got out of their way, even the stately aurochs leaping well clear of the sleds' hissing path. Not all, though. One ill-tempered, half-blind rhinoceros exploded out of the willows like a hairy boulder. Surprisingly fast for its size, the massive beast actually bumped their sled, its three feet of flattened horn tipping the back end. TinTin caught a vivid impression of rank geyser breath and mean little eyes. And then, Dieu merci, they were away. She had a pistol, as did Alan, but was loath to turn it upon cloned prehistoric animals. They'd already gone extinct once. TinTin had no desire to initiate a second tragic die-off.
The rhinoceros fell back, satisfied that it had won the encounter, and returned to its dim browsing. By this time, Fermat's sled was out of sight. Somewhere amid rapidly icing lakes and stands of dense larch, they'd lost each other. The sleds and wrist comms had a tracking feature, though, so no one really worried. Alan simply followed his downloaded map, thinking more (and more loudly) about his plans for the time machine than their current situation. After all, how hard could it be to un-stick a bus?
Calamitousthunder and stench announced the mammoths. A small herd came rushing out of the hills, shaking their domed heads and trumpeting. Rather than waste time going around the giant animals, Alan decided to weave his way through the herd. TinTin didn't grasp his intent until they were dashing amid mountain-sized flanks and forests of curved ivory. Unlike the rhinoceros, these creatures were fairly intelligent, and frightened. Several of them were bleeding, leaving dark, wet splotches in the high-piled snow. Uttering hoarse screams, they lashed at the speeding sled with sideways jabs of their great tusks, eyes rolling white and trunks flailing.Tall gouts of snow were thrown up with each smash of a pile-driver leg. The ground shook.
At this point, Alan realized that he'd made a serious mistake. He cut west, trying to swerve away, but wouldn't have made it without TinTin. As an enraged bull charged their careening sled, she put forth everything she possessed in a single, reverberating thought: NO!
The enormous animal stumbled; huffing clouds of bloodied steam, it shook its head, lifted a hairy trunk and bellowed. Thunderbird 1 might have been louder, but TinTin wouldn't have bet on it. All but deafened, they zipped away from the milling herd, Alan gone suddenly wide-eyed and shaking. Very wisely, TinTin resisted the urge to comment. She wondered, though, who had injured the huge mammoth, and why? Had someone panicked? And Dr. Andropov... he'd been tracking the herd... Where had he gone?