p&c.icelimit-第73部分

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y　couldn't　buy　everything　…　even　one's　own　life。　How　different　he　was；　in　the　last　analysis；　from　the　man　who　stood　beside　him。
　Her　eyes　moved　to　Glinn。　She　found　herself　being　dependent　on　his　judgment　now；　in　a　way　she　would　never　have　allowed　before　he　had　been　proven　wrong　…　proven　human；　she　thought。
　Beyond　the　two　men　lay　the　storm…tossed　sea。　As　night　had　fallen；　they　had　darkened　the　ship　in　an　attempt　to　elude　Vallenar's　guns。　But　a　huge　southern　moon；　a　day　from　full；　had　risen　in　a　crystalline　night　sky　to　thwart　their　hopes。　To　Britton；　it　almost　looked　as　if　it　was　smiling　mockingly　at　them。　A　panteonero　was　a　strange　form　of　weather：　it　usually　ended　in　a　clear　night　of　maddening；　murderous　wind。　In　the　moonlight；　the　moiling　surface　of　the　ocean　had　a　ghastly　luminescence。　The　surreal　ocean　continued　to　launch　a　procession　of　gigantic　breakers　past　them；　looming　above　the　ship；　periodically　throwing　it　into　darkness　deeper　than　night；　subsiding　in　huge　roars　as　the　ship　broke　out　once　again　into　the　moonlight；　the　tumbling　white　water；　and　the　banshee　winds。
　An　abrupt　report；　faint　but　audible　above　the　storm；　shook　the　bridge　windows。　Others　followed　in　measured　cadence。　Britton　saw　a　row　of　geysers　climbing　down　the　face　of　a　wave　to　the　north；　one　after　another；　heading　toward　the　Rolvaag　along　the　line　of　its　former　course。
　The　great　ship's　head　labored　and　wallowed　in　the　seas。　Turn；　you　bitch；　she　thought。
　Suddenly；　the　ship　bucked　and　shuddered。　A　great　billow　of　ugly　yellow　smoke　shot　from　the　bow；　hot　metal　whining　upward；　trailing　streamers。　A　thunderous　report　immediately　followed。　One　of　the　king　posts　jerked　into　the　air；　twisting　as　it　fell　back；　the　guy　wires　whiplashing　across　the　deck。　Then　the　geysers　were　erupting　ahead　of　them　and　turning　wide　as　the　fire　passed　their　position。
　There　was　a　deathly　moment　of　stasis。
　Britton　was　the　first　to　recover。　She　raised　her　glasses　and　examined　the　bow　area。　It　appeared　that　at　least　one　shell　had　ripped　through　the　forecastle。　The　great　ship　rose　on　the　next　wave；　in　the　bright　moonlight；　she　could　see　water　running　into　the　exposed　chain　locker　and　out　a　ragged　hole；　well　above　the　waterline。
　〃General　alarm；〃　she　said。　〃Mr。　Howell；　send　a　damagecontrol　team　forward。　Assemble　a　fire　team　with　AFFF　foam　and　an　Explosimeter。　And　I　want　a　lifeline　rigged　up　along　the　maindeck；　bow　to　stern。〃
　〃Aye　aye；　ma'am。〃
　Almost　involuntarily；　she　glanced　at　Glinn。
　〃Cut　the　engines；〃　he　murmured。　〃Veer　away　from　the　wind。　Cut　ECM。　Pretend　we're　crippled。　That　will　stop　his　firing　for　now。　Give　it　just　five　minutes；　then　we'll　run　again。　That　will　force　him　to　repeat　his　range…finding。　We　must　make　those　ice　islands。〃
　She　watched　him　step　away　to　confer　with　his　operative　in　low　tones。
　〃Mr。　Howell；〃　she　said。　〃All　engines　stop。　Left　thirty　degree　rudder。〃　The　ship　continued　forward　under　its　immense　inertia；　slowly　turning。
　She　looked　at　Lloyd。　His　face　had　gone　gray；　as　if　the　firing　had　shocked　him　to　the　core。　Perhaps　he　believed　he　was　about　to　die。　Perhaps　he　was　thinking　about　what　it　would　be　like　to　be　sinking　in　the　cold；　black；　two…mile…deep　water。　She　had　seen　that　look　before；　on　other　ships　in　other　storms。　It　was　not　a　pretty　sight。
　She　dropped　her　gaze　to　the　radar。　It　was　getting　a　lot　of　sea　return；　but　it　cleared　every　time　the　Rolvaag　rose。　They　were　now　twenty…five　miles　from　the　Ice　Limit　and　the　pair　of　ice　islands。　The　beam　sea　was　slowing　down　the　Chilean　ship　by　as　much　as　a　knot；　but　it　was　still　closing　the　gap　steadily；　relentlessly。　As　she　looked　out　over　the　boiling　seas；　she　wondered　how　the　destroyer　could　possibly　be　surviving。
　Suddenly　the　door　to　the　bridge　burst　open。　And　there；　framed　in　the　doorway；　was　McFarlane。　He　took　a　step　forward；　Rachel　following　close　behind。
　〃The　meteorite；〃　McFarlane　said　as　he　struggled　for　air；　his　face　wild。
　〃What　about　the　meteorite？〃　Glinn　asked　sharply。
　〃It's　breaking　free。〃
　
　Rolvaag；
　3：55　P。M。
　
　GLINN　LISTENED　as　McFarlane　gasped　out　his　story；　feeling　an　unfamiliar　…　and　unpleasant　…　sensation　of　surprise　drift　over　him。　But　it　was　with　his　usual；　unhurried　economy　of　motion　that　he　turned　toward　a　telephone。　〃Sick　bay？　Get　Garza　on　the　horn。〃
　In　a　moment；　Garza's　weakened　voice　came　across　the　line。　〃Yes？〃
　〃Glinn　here。　The　meteorite's　breaking　its　welds。　Get　Stonecipher　and　the　backup　team　down　there　at　once。　You　lead　it。〃
　〃Yes；　sir。〃
　〃There's　something　else；〃　said　McFarlane。　He　was　still　struggling　for　breath。
　Glinn　turned。
　〃The　rock　reacts　to　salt。　Salt；　not　touch。　That's　what　sets　it　off；　what　killed　Garza's　team。　Rachel　and　I　strapped　tarps　over　the　web。　But　whatever　you　do；　for　God's　sake　keep　salt　water　off　it。　And　it's　still　throwing　off　a　lot　of　radio　noise。　Radio　munication　will　be　spotty；　at　least　for　an　hour　or　so。
　Glinn　took　this　in；　then　raised　the　phone　and　spoke　again　to　Garza。　As　he　was　finishing；　he　heard　a　fumbling　sound　on　the　other　end；　followed　by　the　nasal；　angry　voice　of　Brambell。　〃What's　this　devilment？　I　forbid　this　man　leaving　sick　bay。　He　has　head　trauma；　concussion；　a　hyperextended　wrist；　and　…　〃
　〃No　more　talk；　Dr。　Brambell。　I　must　have　Garza's　expertise　at　whatever　cost。〃　
　〃Mr。　Glinn　…　〃
　〃The　life　of　the　ship　depends　on　it。〃　He　lowered　the　phone　and　looked　at　Britton。　〃Is　there　any　way　to　reduce　the　ship's　list　in　these　waves？〃
　Britton　shook　her　head。　〃In　seas　this　heavy；　ballast　shifting　would　only　make　the　ship　more　unstable。〃
　The　Rolvaag　continued　driving　southward；　the　raging　sea　alternately　burying　its　maindeck　in　the　water；　then　forcing　it　skyward；　water　thundering　out　the　scuppers。　Two　of　the　containers　had　torn　free　and　washed　overboard；　and　several　others　were　now　shifting　in　their　lashings。
　〃What　the　hell　were　those　explosions？〃　McFarlane　asked　Glinn。
　〃We　were　fired　on　by　the　Chilean　ship。〃　He　looked　first　at　McFarlane；　and　then　at　Amira。　〃Do　you　have　any　idea　why　salt　affects　the　meteorite？〃
　〃It　doesn't　seem　like　a　chemical　reaction；〃　McFarlane　said。　〃None　of　the　meteorite　was　consumed　in　the　explosions；　and　there　sure　as　hell　wasn't　enough　salt　to　generate　that　kind　of　energy。〃
　Glinn　looked　at　Amira。
　〃It　was　too　big　an　explosion　to　be　either　a　chemical　or　catalytic　reaction；〃　she　said。
　〃What　other　kind　of　reaction　is　there？　Nuclear？〃
　〃That's　one　unlikely　possibility。　But　I　think　we're　not　looking　at　this　problem　from　the　right　perspective。〃
　Glinn　had　seen　this　before。　Amira's　mind　had　a　tendency　to　jump　out　of　everyone　else's　groove。　What　resulted　was　either　genius　or　idiocy。　It　was　one　of　the　reasons　he　had　hired　her；　and　even　at　this　extremity　he　knew　better　than　to　ignore　it。　〃How　so？〃　he　asked。
　〃It's　just　a　feeling。　We　keep　trying　to　understand　it　from　our　point　of　view；　thinking　of　it　as　a　meteorite。　What　we　need　to　do　is　look　at　it　from　its　point　of　view。　Salt　is　important　to　it；　somehow　…　something　either　dangerous；　or。。。　necessary。〃
　Howell's　voice　filled　the　resulting　silence。　〃Captain；　more　ranging　shots　being　fired　from　the　Ramirez。〃　The　chief　mate　hunched　over　the　Doppler　radar。　There　was　a　long　moment　of　silence；　and　he　looked　up；　a　grin　on　his　face。　〃A　snowsquall　just　cut　us　off　from　the　Ramirez。　The　bastards　can't　see　us；　Captain。　They're　running　blind。〃
　〃e　right；　steady　on　one　nine　zero；〃　said　Britton。
　Glinn　moved　to　the　GPS　chart；　staring　at　its　arrangement　of　green　dots。　The　chess　game　was　drawing　to　a　close；　the　board　was　cleared　of　all　but　a　few　pieces。　Their　fate　had　been　reduced　to　a　bination　of　four　factors：　two　ships；　the　storm；　the　ice。　He　examined　them　intently　for　thirty　minutes；　the　positions　of　the　two　ships　changing　ever　so　slightly；　his　mind　intensely　concentrated。　He　closed　his　eyes；　retaining　the　image　of　the　green　dots　in　his　mind。　In　that　simplicity　lay　a　deadly　lack　of　options。　Like　a　chess　master；　he　had　played　out　in　his　mind　each　possible　sequence　of　moves。　All　but　one　led　to　one　hundred　percent　probability　of　failure。　And　the　probability　of　success　on　the　last　option　remained　exceedingly　low。　For　this　last　play　to　succeed；　everything　would　have　to　happen　perfectly　…　and　on　top　of　that；　they　would　need　luck。　Glinn　hated　luck。　A　strategy　that　required　luck　was　often　fatal。　And　now　that　which　he　hated；　he　needed　most　of　all。
　He　opened　his　eyes；　focusing　immediately　on　the　chart。　The　green　dot　representing　the　Rolvaag　was　now　thirty　minutes　from　the　Ice　Limit　and　a　few　minutes　more　from　the　two　gigantic　ice　islands。
　Glinn's　radio　chirped　and　he　snapped　it　on。
　〃Garza　here；〃　came　the　weakened　voice　over　a　wash　of　static。　〃In　the　tank。　There's　a　lot　of　radio　interference；　don't　know　how　long　we　can　talk。〃
　〃Go　on。〃
　〃There　are　welds　failing　with　each　roll　of　the　ship。〃
　〃Cause？〃
　〃The　meteorite's　discharge　snapped　some　critical　points　on　the　web　and　weakened　others。　Also；　Rochefort　designed　the　cradle　for　a　maximum　thirty…five…degree　roll。　We're　still　ten　degrees　below　the　limit　…　〃　For　a　moment；　the　radio　cut　out。　〃But　of　course　the　meteorite　is　two　hundred　and　fifty　percent　heavier　than　Rochefort　initially　anticipated。　We　might　be　a　bit　short　on　the　engineering。〃
　〃How　short