Ariguska object had hit, the dense pine forests had been flattened outward for miles, like ripples in a pond when a rock is thrown into it. In the two decades since, the regrowth had come in stunted and twisted, as though the soil itself was tainted. Fish caught in the forest lakes were often horrifically mutated and always poisonous. Crops did not grow. Even the small garden plots planted outside the gulag fences yielded only inedible horrors.
The impacting meteorite had tunneled deep and shattered, spraying fragments of itself throughout the strata. Now, in an ever-expanding pit, the workers quarried out the dirt and discarded the bulk of the useless rock, sand, and soil, searching for the core meteorite mass.
Luthor stared at the quarry operations, at the hundreds of sweating workers who were watched over by guards in olive-green woolen uniforms. Each guard carried a workhorse Kalashnikov AK-47 assault rifle. The sullen prisoners toiled with picks and shovels, filling rusty metal carts. As the diggers worked their way toward the main mass, they left a wide corkscrewing ramp. Debris was hauled away and dumped in ugly piles of naked rock in the tainted forest.
“Impressive, is it not, comrade Luthor?” Ceridov made an expansive gesture.
“This operation has been under way for…” Luthor calculated. “A year?”
“Seventeen months. And in that time we have excavated a substantial amount of meteor mineral.” They walked to the edge of the open pit, and Luthor looked down at the pathetic wretches laboring in it.
“How long do the slaves last?” Luthor asked.
“They work until they die, then are replaced by others who also work until they die. We have a large enough pool of replacements. Look at how much they have dug out!”
“Such a large open quarry is a bit obvious,” Luthor warned. “Some high-flying spy plane could easily photograph it.”
“They will see nothing more than a large quarry. However, our workers are about to begin constructing a dome to cover the bottom of the quarry when we expose the main meteorite mass.”
Luthor observed a commotion among the scrawny captives. Guards rushed to a man holding a jagged green lump that gave off a faint intrinsic glow.
Ceridov signaled the guard. Red-faced from both excitement and exposure to the cold air, the man came puffing up and saluted smartly to the general as he extended a glowing emerald fragment about the size of a baseball.
Ceridov held it in his hands. “Give that worker an extra cup of water tonight as a reward.” He offered the fragment to Luthor, who did not move to take it.
“That glow…it could be a form of radiation.”
“You are a cautious man.” As if to show his bravery, Ceridov squeezed the lump, holding it up. “Prolonged direct exposure to the meteorite emanations does have unpleasant effects on human physiology.” He shrugged. “Small exposures, though, are harmless…to the best of our knowledge.”
“The best of your knowledge!” Luthor accepted the meteor fragment with lingering reluctance and prodded the rock suspiciously. “What sort of physiological effects?”
Ceridov guided Luthor away from the quarry edge to a low bunker with extremely thick concrete walls, not far from the steaming coolant tower and containment dome for the camp’s power reactor. The bunker’s windows were reinforced with bars, its doors covered with two-inch-thick metal sheeting.
“A fallout shelter?” Luthor asked. It looked as if it could withstand an A-bomb blast.
“It is not to protect those inside, but to contain them. Listen. They are restless today.”
Luthor could hear a roaring, thudding sound like a blacksmith hammering an anvil. But it wasn’t a blacksmith. Something pounded on the metal doors while growling loudly enough to be heard through the thick concrete walls.
The KGB general explained, “When certain workers are heavily exposed, they change. Their bodies grow. They become much less human. They have
The impacting meteorite had tunneled deep and shattered, spraying fragments of itself throughout the strata. Now, in an ever-expanding pit, the workers quarried out the dirt and discarded the bulk of the useless rock, sand, and soil, searching for the core meteorite mass.
Luthor stared at the quarry operations, at the hundreds of sweating workers who were watched over by guards in olive-green woolen uniforms. Each guard carried a workhorse Kalashnikov AK-47 assault rifle. The sullen prisoners toiled with picks and shovels, filling rusty metal carts. As the diggers worked their way toward the main mass, they left a wide corkscrewing ramp. Debris was hauled away and dumped in ugly piles of naked rock in the tainted forest.
“Impressive, is it not, comrade Luthor?” Ceridov made an expansive gesture.
“This operation has been under way for…” Luthor calculated. “A year?”
“Seventeen months. And in that time we have excavated a substantial amount of meteor mineral.” They walked to the edge of the open pit, and Luthor looked down at the pathetic wretches laboring in it.
“How long do the slaves last?” Luthor asked.
“They work until they die, then are replaced by others who also work until they die. We have a large enough pool of replacements. Look at how much they have dug out!”
“Such a large open quarry is a bit obvious,” Luthor warned. “Some high-flying spy plane could easily photograph it.”
“They will see nothing more than a large quarry. However, our workers are about to begin constructing a dome to cover the bottom of the quarry when we expose the main meteorite mass.”
Luthor observed a commotion among the scrawny captives. Guards rushed to a man holding a jagged green lump that gave off a faint intrinsic glow.
Ceridov signaled the guard. Red-faced from both excitement and exposure to the cold air, the man came puffing up and saluted smartly to the general as he extended a glowing emerald fragment about the size of a baseball.
Ceridov held it in his hands. “Give that worker an extra cup of water tonight as a reward.” He offered the fragment to Luthor, who did not move to take it.
“That glow…it could be a form of radiation.”
“You are a cautious man.” As if to show his bravery, Ceridov squeezed the lump, holding it up. “Prolonged direct exposure to the meteorite emanations does have unpleasant effects on human physiology.” He shrugged. “Small exposures, though, are harmless…to the best of our knowledge.”
“The best of your knowledge!” Luthor accepted the meteor fragment with lingering reluctance and prodded the rock suspiciously. “What sort of physiological effects?”
Ceridov guided Luthor away from the quarry edge to a low bunker with extremely thick concrete walls, not far from the steaming coolant tower and containment dome for the camp’s power reactor. The bunker’s windows were reinforced with bars, its doors covered with two-inch-thick metal sheeting.
“A fallout shelter?” Luthor asked. It looked as if it could withstand an A-bomb blast.
“It is not to protect those inside, but to contain them. Listen. They are restless today.”
Luthor could hear a roaring, thudding sound like a blacksmith hammering an anvil. But it wasn’t a blacksmith. Something pounded on the metal doors while growling loudly enough to be heard through the thick concrete walls.
The KGB general explained, “When certain workers are heavily exposed, they change. Their bodies grow. They become much less human. They have
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