Hall said. "If she's going to blow, it isn't going
to make any difference if the others are shut down or not. And, if we
can keep pumping while we're working, we're staying ahead of the flow
from the reservoir. Get me that reading."

The pressure report was back in minutes. "It'll take at least a
four-ton mass to get down there fast and keep from being bucked
around."

Hall looked around, "What have we got that's small enough and has that
weight or better?"

"How about a van tractor?" one of the supervisors suggested. "They
weigh closer to six tons but they're pretty compact."

"Fine," Hall snapped. "Rig it."

The bulky, almost square, tractor was rolled up and the rigging crews
were swarming over it, clamping suspension cables from the running
pulley that would ride the cable across the current.

"What's the radiation report?" Hall asked monitoring.

"Still building," came the reply. "But we've got a leak somewhere, Mr.
Hall. We're getting readings from the water down there. Not too much
yet, but it may change our time factor. I'd either get on it fast,
chief, or let's get outta here. That thing can go any minute now."

The tractor was rigged. Hall turned and bawled, "Where are those
divers?"

Alec Patterson and Troy Braden stepped out of a nearby van, dressed in
pressure suits and tanks, their helmet flaps open. Alec had a heavy
belt of ultra-high explosive plastic lashed around his midsection.
Troy carried a rack of small clamps strung across his shoulders.

"Where do you think you two are going?" Hall roared. "Get those suits
off and get outta here."

"Shut up and listen," Alec snarled. "I started this. I'll finish it.
This idiot partner of mine hasn't got any better sense than to go
along. We haven't time to argue, so just listen.

"Both of us have been trained in hydrology and have made many dives
before. We've both used this plastic and we've both handled hot stuff,
probably more than any of your people. Your man has checked us out on
the pump assembly and we know just what we're looking for. Let's go."

Hall glared at the pair for a second and then whirled to the rigged
tractor. "Get that canopy off that thing," he ordered. "They can ride
it down in the seat."

He turned back to the junior engineers. "Got lights?" They both
indicated a pair of sealed handbeams on their belts. "All right, get
aboard."

"Casey," Hall called over the intercom, "got that communications line
rigged?"

"All set,