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PART IV

THERA

Thera, these days, was known as the island of Santorini. It was a small, hilly island shaped like a crescent, one of many such islands in the Cyclades. The crescent was all that was left of Thera, demolished by a volcanic eruption four times as powerful as Krakatoa. Few people lived there, although Indy knew a Professor Marinatos was working there these days. Marinatos had recently claimed that Thera exploded in 1600 BC, wiping out civilisation all over the Mediterranean. Maybe it wiped out Atlantis as well, thought Indy.
The charter plane let him off at the pier, and flew away. Indy walked along the pier, and looked around the main settlement.
It wasn't much. A few houses, stucco and red-tile roof, dotted the landscape as it rose inland. Now that the drone of the charter plane's engines was gone, it was pretty quiet.
There was someone about, nearby. A port authority was walking along the crates and boxes stacked up by the pier, making notes on a clipboard. He was dressed in a grey suit and had vaguely Greek features - could this be Marinatos?
Indy approached the man. "Hello there."
"What do you want?" asked the man.
"Nice island," said Indy.
"Yes, very nice," agreed the port authority. "The famous old volcano; the awful explosion; the end of civilisation - yes, very nice indeed." He almost spat the last few words back at Indy.
"I'm Indiana Jones," said Indy.
"You don't say," responded the man impatiently.
"Are you in charge around here?" asked Indy.
"Hmmm," said the man. Oddly enough, he didn't elaborate. "Make this quick, I'm a busy man."
Indy was on his guard with this man, who didn't seem trustworthy. "Do you have any charter planes?" he asked.
"Not a one. Sorry."
Indy was starting to regret coming to Thera. Not because of this unhelpful port attendant, but because he hadn't made any arrangements for getting back off it. "Can you book passage for me on the next boat?" he asked.
"Sorry," said the authority. "No boats, no planes, until next week."
"Isn't there any way off this island?"
"Unless you grow wings like Icarus, I'd say you're stuck!" said the port authority with utter apathy.
This could be Marinatos, thought Indy. He certainly has a sort of academic arrogance. "Do you know anything about Atlantis?" he asked.
"You mean about Thera as an colony of the Lost Kingdom?" said the port authority. He shrugged and smirked at Indy. "Sorry, can't help you."
Indy ground his teeth together. This guy was winding him up. He stood there a moment, then walked away. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

Indy walked up the main settlement path, passing between empty shops and shut up houses, climbing high above the bay until he reached a plateau. From his vantage point, if he looked south, he could see as far as Crete.
He looked inland. Hills rolled up and down around him, revealing a dry, sparsely vegetated land. Under a bright sun high in the sky, the ground was the colour of ground up corn, fading through pale green to a lilac-mauve in the distance. Dotted here and there were patches of forest, but most of the ground was uncovered.
There wasn't much sign of life here, period. Nearby, however, a drift of smoke rose from a notch in the hillside. Indy, picking a path through the grass, walked over to investigate.
The notch was stony, sandy and bare of vegetation. It smelt of sulphur, probably because of the vent in the hillside, a natural gas fissure giving off the thin grey smoke Indy had seen from a distance. The smoke, Indy knew, was incidental - most of the gas escaping would be colourless.
He searched around, and soon found a crate. The crate was open, and empty. Indy looked inside, then shut the lid. There was a piece of paper taped to the lid. Indy picked it up: it was an invoice for an observation balloon bladder.
A balloon - now that would be useful. Indy knew how to fly a balloon. There would be worse ways of getting off this island. But who left the invoice here? Germans?
Near the crate the ground sloped away sharply, to some kind of fissure in the ground.
Indy climbed down the fissure, watching his footsteps carefully. The sand beneath his feet felt unstable. He was passing under an arch of stone and wood, the fissure widening as the ground levelled out.
He was in a large room, well lit by daylight from the open fissure. The walls were ragged and flaky, and the floor was grey sand. To his right, a stone doorway led to a deeper chamber in the earth. A bull's head was carved at its top.
Indy walked through. The floor here was much rougher, covered in broken shale and small boulders. Two open boxes were stored here, one propping up an extinguished lantern. By it was a military entrenching tool, folded up. Indy took the entrenching tool - these were good digging equipment.
In the wall of the room was an open bronze door, revealing what seemed to be a cabinet, built from stone bricks. There was nothing in the cabinet. Indy shut the heavy door, on which was engraved a single concentric spiral, in the very centre.
Next to the doorway, two thin vertical blocks of stone suddenly pulled back from each other, to reveal a peg about a thumb's thickness. Indy looked at the peg, and at the stone around it. Above the peg was engraved a design that looked like a pair of horns.
The tall horns, thought Indy. He leafed through the Lost Dialogue, and there it was - At many outposts, a Sunstone sufficed, if morning light warmed the tall horns.
Trottier had been right. With growing excitement, Indy took out the Sunstone and fitted it to the peg. He turned it around so that the morning light etching was underneath the tall horns, then pressed the peg.
There was a click, behind the door, but nothing else. Indy pulled back the door, and somehow a carved stone sign now adorned the back wall. It was held there by tiny hooks in the surface of the brick wall, and came off easily as Indy picked it up.
The sign was covered in markings, inscriptions in some ancient language. Indy couldn't make head or tail of them. Still, it was a find. Indy shut the door up, and took the Sunstone.
There was suddenly a rough shaking of the earth, and a low rumble from the fissure opening. Indy nearly lost his footing. "What the-" he said, as everything quietened down again, and it got suddenly dark. This wasn't good. Something must have caved in.
Indy quickly returned to the first room. Yes, the wooden supports holding the fissure open had collapsed, and now the opening was choked with sand and stone. Some small rays of sunlight still found their way in, illuminating his surroundings. Indy took out the entrenching tool and unfolded it. Looks like he'd have to dig his way out.
There was a piece of paper, folded up inside the entrenching tool. Intrigued, Indy read the very familiar handwriting.
Indy, I know you'll find this sooner or later. The Nazis have kidnapped me. They must have found something, because it looks like we're leaving soon. Hurry! I need your help.
It was signed 'Sophia'.
Indy started digging with feverish intensity. Got to get this door unblocked!

His wizened body making long strides, Doctor Ubermann led Sophia along the Thera island pier, to a small motorboat. In the distance, a German submarine had broken the surface. Ubermann hopped in.
"Oh no you don't," said Sophia suddenly. "I've had enough." She turned and walked back along the pier.
Kerner was there, prepared for this eventuality. He drew his gun. "Please Madame," he said beguilingly. "Let's try to be civilised about this, shall we?"
"Kerner!" shouted Ubermann, watching tensely. "Don't shoot her! We may need her in the Lost City!"
"Don't tempt me," said Kerner to Ubermann. He kept his gaze fixed on Sophia, who turned and walked along the pier.
Kerner holstered his gun, satisfied. He joined Ubermann and Sophia, and drove them out to the waiting submarine.

Half an hour later Indy struggled up the slope, back into the sunlight again. Somehow Kerner had gotten the jump on him, and now he had Sophia! He walked back along the high ridges of the Santorini interior, and soon the sunlight and sea breeze revived his energy.
The port authority / Professor Marinatos was still on the pier, noting down stock. Indy, keeping out of his way, also looked around the cargo boxes. Soon he found a box about two feet square, labelled as containing one standard observation balloon bladder.
Indy got the port authority's attention. He was thinking about Sophia's note. "Any sign of a German U-boat?" he asked.
The port authority made a dismissive motion with his hand. "In these waters? Not in my lifetime!"
"I'd like to claim my balloon," said Indy.
"You have the invoice, of course," said the port authority. His tone suggested he'd very much like to see it, pronto.
"Of course," said Indy, handing it over.
"Hmmm," said the port authority. "Everything seems in order. The balloon is yours."
Indy opened up the crate. There it was - a huge yellow canvas balloon, folded up tightly but still occupying a two foot volume. There was no basket in there, even a folded up basket. Indy looked around the pier. No large baskets. Further afield, however, by a closed vegetable shop, was a basket large enough to store a refrigerator in. Hanging above it was a fishnet, which Indy could also see a use for.
He took the fishnet. When he came to lift up the basket, however, the port authority came over and stopped him. "Excuse me, you can't take that! It belongs to the store, and the store belongs to me."
Indy paused before continuing. This was a gamble. But he needed that basket, and further, he couldn't think of any other way to force the port authority's identity into the open.
He held out the stone sign. "Would you accept this ancient sign for the basket?"
"Well, let me see." The port authority took the sign in his hands, and studied it closely. "My, my!" he exclaimed at last. "This is a find! A perfectly preserved inscription in Minoan Hieroglyphics!"
"I wouldn't know how to read them," said Indy. It wasn't really his area.
"Lucky for you I'm completely fluent," said the port authority, pretty much confirming his identity as Marinatos, to Indy's mind. "Listen: Road closed for repairs. Travellers use alternate route from Greater Colony on Crete."
That's it! thought Indy. The Greater Colony. Kerner was on his way to Crete!
"My friend," announced Marinatos, "the basket is yours! Please excuse me, I must study this further." He walked to a small stone shack by the pier, and went inside, still holding the sign reverently.
Indy put the fishnet in the basket. He walked over to the pier, picked up the balloon (it was heavy), and put it in the basket. Then, holding the basket over his head, he walked inland.

He set the basket down at the notch. A tricky bit of engineering was coming up, one he was entrusting his life to.
He started by finding some empty sacks near the fissure, and filling them up. These he tossed into the basket - ballast. Then he uncurled the fishnet.
Around the rim of the canvas balloon were numerous holes, designed to hold the wires connecting the basket to the balloon. Indy didn't have any wires, all he had was this fishnet. He wound the net through the holes. It was lightweight, but the narrow spacing meant he could pass several loops through each metal-ringed hole. Then Indy fixed the other half of the net to the balloon, tying it securely to each corner.
It took several hours, but eventually Indy had a solid connection built. He pulled the balloon out, stretching it along the ground. He found a short rope and tied one end to the balloon, the other to a stone firmly anchored in the ground. This step would be even trickier.
Indy pulled the mouth of the balloon over the gas fissure. It started to inflate, mainly with hot air. The balloon billowed outward, and started to take on shape. Soon it rose so rapidly it was all Indy could do to hold the mouth down.
With the balloon fully inflated, and the basket risen off the ground, Indy could hold the balloon down no longer. He let it go, falling back. He stood up and admired his work. It was actually floating. With this balloon he could probably reach Crete.
"I oughta be featured in Modern Mechanix for this," said Indy. He climbed into the basket, and cut the rope. The basket flew up.

Into the air he climbed, pushed south by a gentle breeze. Indy knew how you steered a balloon - you changed altitude until you found a breeze heading in the right direction, then you held it there as long as possible. Soon he was heading south fairly rapidly, so Indy released a small gust of the hot air.
It wasn't really necessary. His ascent had slowed dramatically, and now, even as he raced south, it started to fall. There must be a leak in the balloon somewhere.
Indy stared down at the sea, occasionally dropping off a sack of sand as ballast. The water was calm and smooth in all directions. Just south, however, Indy saw a glint in the ocean.
Falling forward, he started to make out an oblong shape, cruising through the water. It looked for all the world like a submarine.
A German submarine, cruising away from Thera.
At that instant, Indy knew Sophia was on board. The knowledge made him do something very irrational. He released a lot of air, causing the balloon to fall faster. He tugged on the net, trying to steer the balloon above the submarine.
It was getting bigger, much too fast. Indy was doing a pretty good job staying above it, the speed of his balloon matching the cruising speed of the sub. Now it was a thousand feet below him; now five hundred; now a hundred.
Indy backed into a corner of the basket, standing on a pile of sand-filled sacks. Shock-absorption.

The Lieutenant stood on the conning tower, watching this yellow dinosaur float serenely toward him. "What the Hollenzollern is that?" he yelled. The basket passed above him, almost knocking his cap off. "Ach!" cried the Lieutenant. "Himmel! Halt!"
The balloon thumped into the aft section of the submarine, a sound unnoticed by every single occupant. Indy, sorely rattled, leapt out of the basket and shoved it over the edge. He crept toward the conning tower, then straightened as he saw the Lieutenant, very annoyed, coming toward him. "Halt!" cried the Lieutenant.
Indy waited until he was in distance, then punched him in the gut. The Lieutenant doubled over. Indy brought his knee up, sinking it into his groin. The Lieutenant gurgled, and attempted a swing. Indy dodged it easily and punched him in the chest, twice. The Lieutenant tottered backward, stricken. He looked at Indy.
Indy's fist flashed in a right uppercut on the point of the chin. The Lieutenant's head jerked back violently. The force of the punch lifted him into the air, sending him crashing back against the wall of the conning tower, making the metal ring. Indy stared at the Lieutenant, then started to pull off his clothes.
The uniform - a white cap, grey shirt and navy blue trousers - were an almost perfect fit. In them, Indy climbed the conning tower and climbed down the hatch into the Lieutenant's room, shutting the hatch behind him.
Indy had a look around the captain's room. The place was well lit, from the portholes set on all sides of the conning tower. Apart from that, he wasn't sure what else to do. There was a large bank of dials and controls on one wall, but no apparent steering controls, which was a relief, because Indy didn't know where they were going. The only control lever that really caught his attention was a large, wooden affair. "It says Flugeldufel," read Indy. Which could mean anything.
Leaving the controls to their work, Indy looked at the ladder which descended through an open porthole to the main sub below, and decided it was time to swing into action. He climbed down.
Now where was Sophia? And, for that matter, the stone disks?
There was moderate activity on the bridge. A few soldiers were walking along the grille, from fore to aft. They saluted Indy, but otherwise gave him no attention. The disguise was working.
The ladder continued below the upper deck to a lower level. Indy climbed down. Down here there were just a few cupboards and tools, and a heavy steel door at the end. Indy listened at the door, but didn't hear anything. With a door that thick he'd be lucky too anyway, Indy reflected.
He climbed back up. Returning, he saw a soldier standing at attention, next to a set of metal lockers. Indy wasn't sure he wanted to engage in conversation just now, so he walked the other way, along the bow side.
There was a door on his left immediately next to the ladder. Indy opened it to find the toilet. Great. Indy closed the door.
Following on from there, Indy passed a group of sleeping bunkers, recessed into the wall. A clothesline spanned the bridge here, and was weighed down with wet clothing. At the far end of all this, another door opened onto a closet. Nothing of interest here. For a moment, he fancied he could hear voices, coming from below. He listened, but there was no more.
Indy ducked his head as he entered the bow section. His face wrinkled in distaste when he saw the Nazi flags in their red splendour. In here were another set of bunkers, several torpedos hanging from the roof, and the torpedo tubes. Two soldiers stood at attention by the tubes, being harangued by a superior officer.
The officer saw Indy. "Back to your station, Herr Lieutenant. I'm reprimanding these men."
Indy saluted. "Aye aye, Captain." He left the bow section, past an red rag that practically dripped oil.
Here they were again. Tiny voices. He looked down at the grille, and was surprised to see a trapdoor set into the mesh. He pulled it up and descended the small ladder, into a small, closeted space. Here there was nothing but a metal box, attached to a wall and looking frail. And, coming from behind the wall, voices.
Indy pressed his ear to the wall.
Someone was talking excitedly about something. Indy hadn't heard this person talk before, and his first impression was of a creaking door that's learned to speak English.
"A source of power greater than any known to man!" it enthused.
The next voice Indy heard was familiar enough. "And soon we'll have it in our grasp, Doctor Ubermann," said Kerner. "Now, Miss Hapgood," he continued, "it's time to share your knowledge."
They had Sophia in there as well! And she wasn't co-operating either, good for her. "Not on your life, jerk," she responded emphatically.
"It's your life we're talking about, Fraulein," reminded Kerner. Their conversation then lowered in pitch and volume, so that Indy caught only snippets of the following. He waited for a while, then climbed back up to the bridge.
He walked back to the central area. Now he felt in the mood for talking to the on duty soldier. He seemed to be guarding something. And what was an army man doing on a navy sub?
"What are you doing here, soldier?" Indy asked.
"Can you believe it?" said the soldier. "Kerner's got me guarding a rock! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but I should have gone off duty hours ago." The soldier was not at all unpleasant. If he wasn't a German infantryman, Indy would probably like him.
"I'm here to relieve you, soldier," said Indy. It was a risk, made worthwhile by an educated guess about what 'rock' meant. Indy thought it might mean 'stone', as in 'stone disc'.
"I could use a lunch break," said the soldier, "but unfortunately I can only be relieved by Colonel Kerner himself." He stood smartly to attention.
Indy knew better than to try to crack this particular nut. They trained for obedience in the army. So he walked past the soldier.
He passed through into the sculley.
Make that sculley/bedroom - here were yet more bunks. These army folks didn't seem to eat too well - all the food Indy could see was either cold cuts, stale bread, or sacks of flour. Yum. Indy searched through the loaves, and found one reasonably fresh. He cut two slices, added a few slices from the cold cuts, and there you had it - one ready-made sandwich worthy of Dagwood Bumstead.
Indy returned to the soldier. "You look hungry," he said, offering the sandwich.
"Now that looks tempting..." said the soldier. Discipline won out. "I couldn't possibly take yours, though."
"Why don't you make your own?" suggested Indy. "I'll cover for you."
The soldier looked hopeful. "Would you?"
"Sure!"
"Thanks," said the soldier, walking into the sculley. Indy waited until he started to prepare the sandwich, then pulled open the lockers. Here was a smaller stone disc, with lunar images carved into it.
Indy picked it up, marvelling. A Moonstone. He quickly concealed it and shut the doors. Just in time, because the soldier was returning, a sandwich in his hand.
"Thank you again," said the soldier. Indy nodded and strode off, looking for a place to hide. As he did so, the sub began to change course.

The sub tacked left and right, always heading south, until finally pulling up at a pier on the north coast of Crete. A path led inland from the pier to the ancient city of Knossos, unearthed around the turn of the century by archaeologist Sir Evans.
Kerner, Ubermann and Sophia stood on the bow section of the submarine, out in the open air. "I can't believe you lost the Moonstone!" said Ubermann, again.
"Relax, Herr Doctor, we'll find it," said Kerner in his most assuring voice. He brushed his suit. "We can't allow petty theft among this scurvy crew to stall our expedition!"
"Und if Fraulein Hapgood fails to find an alternative?" asked Ubermann.
"I'm not worried," said Kerner, looking at Sophia. She looked back haughtily. "She'll come through."
"You should live so long!" said Sophia.
Kerner laughed, ran a hand through his blonde hair, and turned back to Ubermann. "She can't help herself! She wants to find Atlantis as badly as we do!"
"Hmpf!" said Sophia, as they climbed down to the pier.

Soon after they docked, Indy came out of his hiding place - the head. He better get out of here, before people started asking suspicious questions.
He climbed up the ladder leading to the captain's room, and opened the topmost hatch. He climbed out onto the hot metal of the conning tower, but there was a soldier standing here, facing him, with a machine-gun in his hands.
"No Navy personnel on deck!" rapped the soldier. "Kerner's orders!"
"Stand aside, soldier," said Indy. "I'm an officer."
The soldier stood his ground, and raised his gun. "I have orders to shoot!"
"Oh," said Indy quickly. "My mistake." He climbed back into the captain's room and shut the hatch.
Great. The submarine exit was guarded. Indy mulled around for a bit, then climbed down to the bridge. He walked along to the bow first. Indy remembered seeing a bank of torpedo tubes here - maybe he could swim out. But the captain was still here, still reprimanding the two Navy men. Indy turned around before he was seen. As he left, the ragged and oily cloth hanging from a missile caught his attention, again. It must be something about its dark red colour.
Indy walked along the bridge, looking around and below. He stopped at the now unguarded lockers and had a look inside.
Someone had left a piece of paper there. Indy took it out, and saw that it was a pamphlet of instructions to operate the torpedos. The language and diagrams were complex, but Indy could just about follow it.
He pocketed the pamphlet, and walked through the sculley.
This area, the aft section, was new. Indy was into a far more utilitarian section of the sub. Another wall was adorned with the dials and switches that were so familiar. Two of these were particularly prominent - a sliding lever that resembled a throttle, labelled "Ausgeschnitzel", and a bright metal toggle switch labelled "Krauskefarben". A Navy man was here, checking the settings.
"You!" said Indy.
The man, a lower ranking officer, looked up. "Sir?"
"Why are there so many army men on this navy sub?" Indy asked.
The officer was of a like mind. "Orders from Berlin. The scuttlebutt is, Ubermann and his thugs have friends in high places."
"What are you working on, chief?"
The officer looked at the controls and shook his head. "Some idiot crossed up the wires on the aft torpedo controls. Better stay clear until I can get them uncrossed - you could start a fire."
Indy saluted. "Carry on, soldier."
The officer returned the salute. "Aye aye, sir."
Indy walked past, into the stern torpedo bay. It was pretty much a repeat of the bow torpedo bay, except here it was empty. The control panel was on a panel near the floor, and thick wires led back from it to the torpedo tubes themselves. At least, they would have done had they not been twisted apart. The exposed ends of the wires jutted up from the metal, boding an electrocution for anyone stupid enough to touch them.
Indy tried pulling the torpedo tubes open. He failed; the hatches must be broken, or perhaps they needed to be opened electronically.
This was great. One torpedo bay was working, but he couldn't use it: one was free, but it was broken! Why couldn't the captain do his lecturing down here?
Indy looked down, and saw another trapdoor in the grille. Lifting this one up, Indy descended once again into the lower decks.
Down here, Indy could hear quite clearly the roar of heavy machinery. It was also quite dim, and slightly damp. These must be the engine compartments. Indy walked along the oily floor, back toward midship, peering around for any clues. None.
Past the engine he came to a row of batteries stretching twenty feet, each stacked two foot high. A lot of power. He thought, as he walked along, and when he was nearly at the last battery the idea came to him.
He walked to the end of the lower deck, climbed the ladder and raised the trapdoor which opened on the sculley. He climbed out and walked smartly along the bridge, heading toward the bow torpedo bay. Indy stopped at the door of the torpedo bay, reached up, and took the greasy rag. The captain didn't see him. The navy men did see him, but they were too scared of the captain to do anything more than stare straight ahead.
Indy strode back. He stopped at the sculley and climbed down to the lower level - it wouldn't do to be seen approaching the aft torpedo bay, not considering what he was going to do. Soon he was climbing back up into the torpedo bay, his entrance unnoticed.
He held the oily rag over the wires, then dropped it. There were no sparks, or sudden flash of flame, so Indy grasped the rag and tied it firmly between the two frayed ends of cable. Using the instructions, he primed the control panel, then pushed the metal launch lever by its side.
The rag caught fire, flashing yellow. Indy dashed down the grille to the engine compartment, as smoke billowed up behind him, and pulled the grille down shut. He walked quickly in the bow direction, and soon alarms were ringing. "Fire!" yelled someone. Feet pounded on the metal grille above him, and looking upward Indy could swear he saw a flash of the captain's blue uniform.
He was under the sculley now. Everyone's attention seemed to have been momentarily diverted, so he climbed back up and raced toward the bow torpedo bay.
This would have to be done quickly. Indy knelt down and primed the control panel. He pulled open the hatch on the lowest tube, and was about to climb in when a sudden problem presented itself.
How could he pull the lever from inside the tube? Not only was he too far away, but the tube's hatch would be left open.
Indy looked back. He couldn't see the aft bay because of the dirty washing hanging on the line. Line... Indy ran forward, pulled the line down, and ran back with a long piece of string in his hands, and a great pile of dirty washing on the floor behind him.
Indy moved even faster now. He tied one end of the string to the launch lever. Then he struggled out of his Navy uniform, which he wore over the top of his regulation IndyWear™. He climbed into the tube, holding the string in his hand, and shut the hatch behind him as much as he dared.
With a single smooth motion Indy tugged on the string and slammed the hatch shut. There was a deafening WHOOOOSH!!! and Indy was hurled forward, ensconced within the torpedo casing. The torpedo casing ploughed into the water, which buffeted and shook. Seconds later the casing split and fell apart, and a wall of water struck Indy. It felt like being in a solid stream of gravel. Indy flailed around, losing a lot of speed, then kicked upward toward the light.
He surfaced right at the edge of the pier. He clung to the wood like a drowned rat, then pulled himself up out of the water.
I hate getting wet, thought Indy. He sat there for a while, gasping, then roused himself walked briskly along the pier. The soldier on the conning tower was out of sight, hidden by a rise of metal.
Drying quickly all the time, Indy walked inland.

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