He came out of the passage from the bunkers and gazed into the bowl. The daylight was made murky from drifting smoke. The slight odor of the atmosphere armor at Stage Three mixed with charcoal's tang. The bowl seemed unusually crowded.
It was a thousand feet in diameter at the level of its floor. Before, he had thought that was a lot of space, about three– quarters of a million square feet he had guessed. But it did seem crowded now.
The pagoda structure in the center extended well beyond the platform on all sides. All around the bowl, with the pagoda at its center, was a sort of wide paved road.
When he had seen it before, it had almost been deserted. Over there to the right were two It alian-Swiss electricians rigging more wires into some bunkers. A German and a Swiss pilot were sorting out a dolly load of air masks. Near to hand a Scot officer was giving some instructions to a Russian soldier. Way over to the left a group of Swedish soldiers were sorting out ammunition on a dolly. There, just coming out of a passage which must lead outside, were two Sherpa hunters pushing a dolly load of African buffalo meat toward what must be a kitchen. Here and there a Buddhist communicator was moving with a floating walk from one bunker to another. And scattered all about, along the inner bank, were Chinese families and their children and belongings. On one of the big posts which held up the pagoda roof, the Chinese had hung tribal shields representing the remaining tribes of Earth.
A truly international scene– the peoples of Earth.
Jonnie was about to move on when a voice speaking Psychlo sounded behind him and to his right.
“I am so sorry.” It was Chief Chong-won, head of the Chinese tribe and principal architect of this place. “We had to bring in all the people from the village by the lake. The lake is so broad, the cable protection is thin in the center, and some bombs have come through above the dam. Waves from the explosion have made the village unsafe. And the smoke from cooking fires does not escape through the screen.”
He was bowing. Jonnie nodded. “But see,” continued Chong-won, “my engineers are digging air ducts through the hill under the cable.”
Piles of dirt and rock on either side of the bowl showed where the Chinese were using spade drills to cut a channel to the outside air.
“They will use intake fans in one and exhaust fans in the other. They will be curved so no bomb blasts come through. I am so sorry for the oversight.”
“I think you have done splendidly,” said Jonnie. “You say bombs fall in the lake above the dam. Is there any dam injury?”
Chief Chong-won beckoned a Chinese engineer and they chattered for a moment in Mandarin. Then Chong-won said to Jonnie, “Not so far. But some have sent water over the top of the dam and they have put in the flashboards to reduce the spillway. If the lake were to drop in volume, we would have no electricity.”
The whole lowest floor of the “pagoda” was wide open on all four sides. The pagoda was really just a fancy roof. The metal transshipment platform was in plain view. The
Chinese had polished it until it shone even in the subdued light.
Jonnie walked under the high roof to get a better look at where they had put the all-important console. Then he smiled. Over on the other side of the platform they had built a stand with sides in the shape of a huge, savage-looking, winged beast!
Angus was there at the console and he waved. “It’s something, isn't it?” said Angus.
Yes, it really was. A huge head, two wings, a curling tail. Armored metal. Painted gold and red.
“A dragon,” said Chong-won. “Once it was the emblem of Imperial China. See, it is laminated molecular armor.”
Not only that, but it had a top! The console was set into the dragon's back and a cover was made of dragon scales so the operator could work the console without anyone's observing what he was really doing. There were two stools on the raised console platform and a side shelf for papers and a computer. And all armored. Nothing was going to hurt that console. Or see what was being done with it either.
Such a far cry from the materialistic Psychlo, who was without paintings or art. And what these Chinese could do!
“See?” said Chief Chong-won. “It is the same as those other dragons.” He pointed to a dragon that formed the roof point of the pagoda nearby. Each corner had one. And then the chief pointed to some unfinished work over by the bank. “Each bunker was supposed to have its dragon over the entrance. We have not had time to put them up.” They were much smaller dragons, made of baked clay and painted in gold and red.
The console looked fine under the protective cover. Angus had a copy of the coordinate book there and was drilling himself without punching anything. He was figuring how to convert the figures in the book to this moment of time and the console buttons. "I’ve got it pretty well,” said Angus. “It just takes quite a bit of time to do the calculations. There are eight separate movements listed for each planet and you have to pick where on the planet. But it is not too hard.”
Jonnie looked up. Another bomb had just hit somewhere. "If all that would stop, we'd be in business. I don't have any idea when it will or exactly what we can do with this console yet.”
Chief Chong-won was pointing at the inside of one of the huge posts that held up the pagoda roof and protected the platform and console from rain. They had rigged mine spotlights on each post so that they spotlighted the platform center. "At night,” he said, “they won't shine outside.”
Jonnie wanted to go over to the operations bunker, but the chief detoured him into a large underground room in the side wall of the bowl. It was nicely tiled and had a platform at the end for a speaker. It had chairs and would hold about fifty people. Very nice.
Then Chief Chong-won showed him a sample of thirty little apartments they had made for guests and visitors. They were in addition to pilot and personnel berthings. These Chinese engineers could certainly build in wood and tile and stone, particularly when assisted by Psychlo machinery.
Jonnie was interested in gun emplacements all around that could cover the platform and the bowl interior. Given troops, the place could really be defended. But they did not have all that many troops.
He finally got to the ops room. It was a busy place. It was a miniature of the one they had found in the American underground base. A huge map of the planet was in the center. As reports came in from the adjoining communications office, men with long poles were pushing about small lead models of planes and the war vessels in orbit. Enemy vessels were red with tags. Their own planes were green with tags.
Stormalong was there in his white scarf, leather coat, and oversized goggles. He had two Buddhist communicators on either side of him and they were talking into close-to-the-mouth microphones that excluded any speech but theirs. Their shaved heads gleamed under the too-large headphones they wore.
Jonnie was told they were operating a planetary battle channel– used by Stormalong-and a planetary command channel used by Sir Robert. The Scot War Chief had a thirteen-year-old Buddhist boy operating his channel.
Nobody had to brief Jonnie. It was all there on the big operations board. Singapore was really catching it. There was a lot of antiaircraft being used at the Russian base. Dunneldeen was flying air cover for Edinburgh.
Thor was flying air cover for Kariba. Nothing was happening at the Lake Victoria minesite or any of the rest. But where it was hot, it was very hot.
Jonnie listened in to the babble on both battle and command channels. It was all in Pali which he didn't speak.
There was a third station, manned by a Scot officer, that was monitoring enemy traffic.