Marta started to speak, but an insistent electronic chiming interrupted.
"Emergency deceleration," Chandler said calmly.
Even before the "Fasten Your Seatbelts" sign flashed on, Chandler, Kotenko and Marta had the buckles clamped tight and were braced against the head rests of their chairs. Light beam generators whirred. The tubecar shuddered and lurched to a stop. The lights went out and a woman screamed somewhere.
"There is no danger," the reassuring voice of the driver said over the speaker system. "There seems to be some trouble ahead." The lights flickered on dimly.
"We are on our own power," Kotenko said. "The tube must be out up ahead."
"Another avalanche?" asked Marta.
A private car pulled up behind them and cushioned to a stop on their force field bumper. Chandler swiveled his chair around and looked through the front viewdome at the scene ahead. The tubeway was illuminated with faint emergency light panels for about two hundred feet. A Greyhound Tubecar and several private cars were stalled at that point. Beyond was blackness.
Marta unbuckled her seat belt and stood up to see better. Chandler gazed up the slope of a towering peak alongside them. Deep snow glistened in the soft reflected light of the tube.
"We have just received word of an avalanche," the voice of the driver reported. "There is no immediate danger. However, we may be forced to turn back to—" A sound as of rolling thunder drowned him out.