This is the first short story I have ever written. It is a science fiction. I hope you enjoy it. I am open to comments.
The Intrepid Explorer
William Lassell, as always, was watching; whatever would occur; would happen; soon.
Bartholomew could see the faint light. He knew he was close. He had to intensify his digging. The cold was so intense. He didn’t know if his strength would last. And damn it! Why was it so cold?
“Bartholomew Higginbottom, you are a fool!”
Bartholomew pondered the remark from his close friend. Was he merely being exaggerative in playful banter or was he serious? “Winston, my friend, suffice it to say, I have never been more clear in thought.”
“Nevertheless Bartholomew, you risk much in this venture of yours. Yes, I know you are the great adventurer. You have traveled the world, taken all the dares and conquered all the challenges, but this time you go too far!”
Bartholomew knew that. But when he had discovered that a great open space lay beneath the ice field, the trailblazer in him just had to see. A miner had been running bore tests on the glacier to see what lay beneath and, lo and behold, it had been discovered that there was…nothing! “Winston, you are not the risk taker I am, that is for sure, but you cannot deny the proof that a vast unexplored area lies beneath the ice. The reports are that the miner bored no less than twenty bore holes over a large area and came up with the same result every time.”
“Yes Bartholomew, you have shown me that report too many times already! What more have you to prove though. You have braved all the dangers this world has to offer, from jungles to volcanoes, explored the deepest waters, captured the wildest of creatures. You have become extraordinary. Yours is a household name, Bartholomew Higginbottom, the intrepid explorer, that’s what they call you.”
Bartholomew allowed a small smile to cross his lips in satisfaction of that title but held himself in check enough not to seem smug. “People do not decide to become extraordinary. They decide to accomplish extraordinary things. In my life, yes, I have always pursued challenges, rare and new. But think Winston, where would we be if no one dared, no one reached out. We would be like the other animals of the world, scared and hiding.”
“Now Winston, you know I never go anywhere unprepared. I have the money. I have access to the equipment. I intend to go where no one has gone before and discover this new land for my own. Who knows what I’ll find there. And just to be sure that I have all things covered, I’m bringing you with me as a wet nurse to make sure I don’t get into any trouble.”
Bartholomew was down to his last excavator. The other machines had either broken down or would no longer operate in the intense cold. As such, Bartholomew had narrowed his area of operation so that more speed was applied to the depth than the width of his excavation. As he looked out from the cabin in the machine, solid walls of deep white ice surrounded him. The material was very hard, almost like rock. He had broken more than one set of cutters in the process.
When he had arrived at the field, the ice stretched away as far as the eye could see. The miner had picked a spot that was much lower than the surrounding area. Vast ridges of the sleek white material stretched throughout the landscape, mountains of solid ice miles high. White crystals’ drifted by, limiting one’s vision, but the enormity of the ice was not lost on the group. Spread out across the plain one could see the tops of the twenty plus bore test holes. Metal pipes sticking out of the ice in a haphazard pattern. The pipes were all filled now, making their removal all but impossible.
Bartholomew had brought with him a crack team, experts at what they did and hardy in their bodies and mind. Some of them had been with him on previous adventures, such as Winston, who was there as a friend and for moral support. As much as he complained, he was exhilarated by this quest as well. They struck a base camp, pegging down their tents, and plotted the dig site. They wanted to clear a large area so that the machines could move easily in and out. It would take longer this way but the final result would be a lane to this new land, not a hole. When they were through Bartholomew wanted to bring anyone and everyone to witness what he had accomplished. This would be the greatest conquest of his illustrious career; he could feel it. Yes his name was already well known, but with this victory, it would last through the ages, he would become immortal.
Bartholomew stopped to eat something. He needed to keep up his strength. Pausing to eat he gazed around at the ice. The ice walls glinted from the lights of his machine. The ice at this level was so hard it had the crystalline image of quartz. It was a wondrous site, too bad he was alone and no one to share it with.
The work began in earnest. The excavators were chewing away at the site in large chunks. The ice was hauled away and progress was clearly visible. The crew chatted amongst themselves of what waited on the other side. Many dreamed that there work here would bring them great wealth, and for what Bartholomew was paying them, they weren’t far off. It wasn’t until they were about a quarter of the way in did the problems begin. The ice at this level was much harder than on the surface. Equipment began to break against the harder ice and delays for repairs were slowing progress.
Lassell became aware that something was amiss. He could sense that the ice was thinning at one spot. It had him intrigued. This was obviously something that warranted further attention. The hum drum of his existence had suddenly changed.
His meal finished, Bartholomew was now sleepy. For the last while he had taken to sleeping in the excavator. The base camp was deserted and a long way up. His last visit to the camp he had packed up what stores he could and brought them down into the hole. He knew his rest would be a short one; sleep was only a momentary reprieve now. Soon he would get back and start digging again. One last look at the ice walls around him and he nodded off.
When they were about halfway, a terrible storm swept through the area. Catching everyone by surprise, two of his crew were sorely injured. A large berg had cascaded into the base camp from the neighboring ridge, obliterating much. Bartholomew himself was almost caught but had been able to swim free of the snow and ice. Bartholomew sent the injured men home, but he and most of the others stayed to continue the work. A fair amount of loose ice had drifted into the excavation area and needed to be cleared, another delay. Fame and fortune weren’t without their risks. But from what had been a happy mood in the camp had changed to one of gloom. There was talk of this all being a waste of time and that no good would come of it. Progress was slowing the deeper they went. And machines kept breaking down, not just from the ice but from the cold as well. Soon he would need to send for more parts or go without some equipment. Another delay. He had a momentary doubt as to whether they would finish at all. No, best not to let those types of thoughts enter his mind. He was going to succeed and that was it.
Lassell could sense movement on the other side of the ice, and vibrations. All other things meant little to Lassell now, he needed to stay where he was and focus on this new anomaly.
Bartholomew woke with a start, looking at the time; he had surprised himself and had actually gotten a fair amount of rest. Getting back to work Bartholomew glanced around at the ice. A chill went through him. He had lost much body heat while he had slept. And somehow, it seemed that the ice walls were closer than he remembered.
When the second machine broke down, there were now more men then equipment. At breakfast his crew wanted to leave, come back with fresh equipment and more men. Bartholomew was too stubborn. At the end, the crew packed up and headed home while Bartholomew and Winston and a third man stayed. The trio worked in synchronistical style with the remaining machines and things seemed to be moving along. Operating the rig, Bartholomew felt a new sense of purpose as work progressed. It wouldn’t be that much longer until they broke through. They checked against the bore readings that indicated they were better than three quarters of the way there. Confidence filled him. No challenge had bested him before, and this one would neither. With his good friend by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t accomplish.
They were close now. Lassell could sense it. If ever Lassell had wondered as to his destiny, somehow, he knew that this was the answer.
The excavator gave one last shudder and then shut down for the final time. Bartholomew was staring at the controls before him; hoping it would do something, anything. Bartholomew crawled out of the machine and retrieved an axe from the kit. The glow from the other side of the ice was stronger than ever. He wasn’t quitting now. Putting his back to it, Bartholomew began the arduous task of hand cutting his way through.
The following morning, Winston did not rise on time. Bartholomew went to check on his good friend. “What’s the matter old man, weather got you down?”
Winston struggled to rise. The lines about his face were deep and his color pale, his complexion waxy. “Bartholomew, I don’t think I can carry on. I have never felt so weak. It is as if the very life was being sapped from me.”
Bartholomew stopped to ponder his friend’s predicament. If they stopped work now they would need to wait another year before they could return. Bartholomew cared for his friend, but he could not let this challenge go unbeaten. “Rest here then Winston, The two of us will work alone for a while. Should your strength return, come join us.”
Bartholomew was a large strong man. The physical task of hand cutting through the ice was energizing him. Large hunks of the ice blasted away with each stroke. For the moment, the horrors of this escapade were forgotten as he bent to the task. Beside and behind him, the walls of ice were closing in.
Then tragedy struck again. A large block broke away from the side wall and caught the third man squarely. Trapped between the block and the ground, he had no chance. He died instantly.
It took time to free his body from the ice. Bartholomew and Winston packed the man into the only remaining transport. Winston, normally a man of many words could only shake his head forlornly. Bartholomew could tell that Winston was failing in his mental state and he worried over his friend. They called it a night with plans to head home the next day.
In the morning Bartholomew went to rouse Winston to head home. To his astonishment, Winston had died while sleeping. Though neither injured nor ill, because of his mindset, his body had just given up. Bartholomew was shaken. For the first time he considered leaving everything and going home. Bartholomew emptied a large crate to use as a makeshift coffin. Loading it next to the crewman he made ready to leave. But something inside him held him back. He wasn’t going to be beaten by this. NO. He was going to finish this dig, even if it cost him everything.
Bartholomew stopped to scrawl a note and put it with the body of his friend Winston.
“Great God, this is an awful place and terrible enough to it without the reward of priority. We took risks, we knew we took them.”
Bartholomew paused and realized that if someone else were to read this, it would mean that he also had not survived.
“Had we lived I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance and courage of my companion which would have stirred the heart of every man. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale..I shall stick it out to the end, but I am getting weaker of course and the end cannot be far. It seems a pity, but I do not think I can write more. For God's sake, look after my people.”
Barthlomew returned to the dig.
The progress behind the ice had slowed considerably. For the first time Lassell doubted whether the event would happen. He could only stay and wait, wait and hope.
Being outside in the elements instead of in the excavator, the cold began to gnaw severely at Bartholomew. Damn it was cold. He had come prepared with the best weather gear but it seemed no match to the intensity of this frigidity here in the ice. Bartholomew wasn’t going to let the temperature beat him. Retreating to the base camp one last time, Bartholomew retrieved a pressurized suit that was especially prepared for him. He had used it when visiting a volcano. It limited his movement, but had protected him against the blast of the volcanic heat. If it could stop the heat, then it could stop the cold. All right ice, I’m ready for you now.
Bartholomew descended and faced the ice once again. “You will not stop me, I’m coming through!” With all his strength he gave the axe a powerful swing and the thunder that erupted from the crack that formed startled him to tumble backward. With renewed energy he attacked the fissure and the opening in the ice appeared. In moments he had cleared enough that he could squeeze through. Grasping firmly, he pulled himself through the opening.
In an instant the world turned upside down for Bartholomew. He found himself lying on an immeasurable plain of ice and when he looked up, he saw countless twinkling lights and a immense multi-colored swirled globe illuminating the sky above him. Though so large, it also appeared so very far away. How could this be? It was then that he became aware that there was nothing around him. His pressurized suit was self-contained but even it could not protect him against the incredible cold that assailed him. He tried to move but couldn’t, his limbs failed to cooperate. He tumbled to the ground, landing on his back to stare at the endless sky. It was so vast. How could it be so? None of this made any sense.
It was incredibly frightening.
It was incredibly beautiful.
As Bartholomew Higginbottom lay there, the hole beside him quickly froze over. By the time the crew returned with new equipment they discovered the excavation site mostly filled in with new ice. They recovered the body of Winston and the crewman but Bartholomew Higginbottom was nowhere to be found. There was nothing to do but go back home. All had been for nothing.
William Lassell had been watching. At the very beginning he had thought that an undersea volcano was trying to breach the ice, but the point was too small. Lassell had focused all his abilities to try and discern what was going on. The actual breach was so small he almost missed it. Focusing intently, Lassell noted the final events and recorded them.
Lassell approached from where he had been watching and set down next to the now still form of Bartholomew Higginbottom. Ever so gently, he picked up the spent body of the intrepid explorer. If ever a death was so precious, to William Lassell, this one was beyond measure.
Lassell carried the body up and away. A certain euphoria overcame him. If a machine could feel happy about oneself, the Jupiter moon explorer William Lassell would have been smiling. There was life on Europa.
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