cc.vixen03-第1部分

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　January　1954
　

　The　Boeing　C…97　Stratocruiser　bore　the　look　of　a　crypt。　Perhaps　the　image　was　bred　by　the　cold　winter　night；　or　perhaps　it　came　from　the　gusting　snow　that　was　piling　an　icy　shroud　on　the　wings　and　fuselage。　The　flickering　lights　from　the　cockpit　windshield　and　the　fleeting　shadows　of　the　maintenance　crew　served　only　to　exaggerate　the　chilling　scene。
　Major　Raymond　Vylander；　United　States　Air　Force；　did　not　care　for　what　he　saw。　He　watched　silently　as　the　fuel　truck　drove　away　and　vanished　into　the　stormy　darkness。　The　loading　ramp　was　dropped　from　the　rear　of　the　great　whalelike　belly；　and　then　the　cargo　doors　slowly　swung　closed；　cutting　off　a　rectangle　of　light　that　spilled　onto　a　heavy…duty　forklift。　He　shifted　his　gaze　slightly　and　stared　at　the　twin　rows　of　white　lights　bordering　the　eleven…thousand…foot　Buckley　Naval　Air　Sta…tion　runway　that　stretched　across　the　plains　of　Colorado。　Their　ghostly　luminescence　marched　into　the　night　and　gradually　faded　behind　the　curtain　of　falling　snow。
　He　refocused　his　eyes　and　studied　the　weary　face　reflected　in　the　windowpane。　His　cap　was　pushed　carelessly　back；　revealing　a　dense　thicket　of　umber　hair。　His　shoulders　were　hunched　forward　and　he　wore　the　taut　look　of　a　hundred…meters　runner　poised　for　the　starter's　gun。　His　transparent　reflection；　bleeding　through　the　glass　into　that　of　the　aircraft　in　the　background；　caused　him　to　shiver　involuntarily。　He　closed　his　eyes；　pushed　the　scene　into　the　far　reaches　of　his　mind；　and　refaced　the　room。
　Admiral　Walter　Bass；　who　sat　on　the　edge　of　a　desk；　neatly　folded　a　meteorological　chart；　then　patted　his　sweating　forehead　with　a　hand…kerchief　and　nodded　at　Vylander。
　〃The　weather　front　is　moving　off　the　eastern　slope　of　the　Rockies。　You　should　break　out　of　the　overcast　somewhere　over　the　Continental　Di…vide。〃
　〃Providing　I　can　get　that　big…assed　bird　off　the　ground。〃
　〃You'll　do　it。〃
　〃Lifting　a　heavy　plane　with　a　full　fuel　load　and　a　cargo　weighing　seventy　thousand　pounds　in　the　middle　of　a　blizzard　with　a　thirty…knot　crosswind　from　a　ground　altitude　of　five　thousand　feet　isn't　exactly　a　garden…variety　takeoff。〃
　〃Every　factor　has　been　carefully　considered；〃　Bass　said　coldly。　〃Your　wheels　should　leave　the　earth　with　a　margin　of　three　thousand　feet　of　runway　to　spare。〃
　Vylander　dropped　into　a　chair　like　a　deflated　balloon。　〃Is　it　worth　risking　the　necks　of　my　crew；　Admiral？　Just　what　is　so　damned　vital　to　the　U。S。　Navy　that　it　has　to　drag　an　Air　Force　plane　out　in　the　middle　of　nowhere　in　the　dead　of　night　to　haul　some　junk　to　an　island　in　the　Pacific　Ocean？〃
　For　a　moment　Bass's　face　flushed；　and　then　it　softened。　When　he　spoke；　it　was　gently；　almost　apologetically。　〃It's　painfully　simple；　Major。　That　junk；　as　you　call　it；　is　a　top…priority　cargo　destined　for　a　highly　classified　test　program。　Since　your　Stratocruiser　was　the　only　heavy　transport　within　a　thousand　miles　that　can　do　the　job；　the　Air　Force　consented　to　put　her　on　temporary　loan　to　the　Navy。　They　threw　you　and　your　crew　into　the　bargain；　and　that's　all　there　is　to　it。〃
　Vylander　shot　Bass　a　penetrating　stare。　〃I　don't　mean　to　sound　insub…ordinate；　Admiral；　but　that's　not　all；　not　by　a　long　shot。〃
　Bass　walked　around　the　desk　and　sat　down。　〃You're　to　consider　it　a　routine　flight；　nothing　more。〃
　〃I'd　appreciate　it；　sir；　if　you'd　throw　me　a　bone　and　enlighten　me　as　to　what's　inside　those　canisters　in　my　cargo　cabin。〃
　Bass　avoided　his　eyes。　〃Sorry；　it's　highly　classified　material。〃
　Vylander　knew　when　he　was　licked。　He　swayed　wearily　to　his　feet；　picked　up　the　vinyl　folder　containing　his　flight　plan　and　charts；　and　walked　toward　the　door。　Then　he　hesitated　and　turned。　〃In　the　event　we　have　to　ditch…〃
　〃Don't！　If　an　in…flight　emergency　develops；〃　Bass　said　solemnly；　〃you　ride　her　down　into　a　nonpopulated　area。〃
　〃That's　asking　too　much。〃
　〃I'm　not　making　a　formal　request；　I'm　giving　an　order！　You　and　your　crew　are　not　to　abandon　the　aircraft　between　here　and　your　destination；　regardless　of　how　dire　the　circumstances。〃
　Vylander's　face　clouded。　〃Then　I　guess　that's　it。〃
　〃There　is　one　more　thing。〃
　〃Which　is？〃
　〃Good　luck；〃　Bass　said；　his　lips　edging　into　a　tight　grin。
　It　was　a　grin　Vylander　didn't　like；　not　one　tiny　bit。　He　pulled　open　the　door　and；　without　replying；　walked　out　into　the　cold。
　In　the　control　cabin；　slouched　so　far　down　that　the　back　of　his　head　rested　a　good　foot　below　his　headrest；　Lieutenant　Sam　Gold；　Vylander's　copilot；　preoccupied　himself　with　a　flight　checklist　while；　behind　him；　off　to　his　left；　Captain　George　Hoffman；　the　crew's　navigator；　fiddled　with　a　plastic　protractor。　Neither　man　paid　the　slightest　acknowledg…ment　to　Vylander　as　he　stepped　through　the　bulkhead　door　leading　from　the　cargo　cabin。
　〃Course　plotted？〃　Vylander　inquired　of　Hoffman。
　〃All　the　preliminary　dirty　work　has　been　figured　by　the　Navy　experts。　Can't　say　as　I　agree　with　their　choice　of　scenic　routes；　though。　They've　got　us　flying　over　the　most　desolate　country　in　the　West。〃
　A　worried　expression　came　over　Vylander's　face；　which　didn't　go　unnoticed　by　Hoffman。　The　major　looked　over　his　shoulder　at　the　huge　metal　canisters　strapped　down　in　the　cargo　section　and　tried　to　summon　up　a　vision　of　their　contents。
　His　contemplation　was　interrupted　by　the　Buster　Keaton…deadpan　face　of　Master　Sergeant　Joe　Burns；　the　flight　engineer；　peering　around　the　cabin　door。　〃All　buttoned　up　and　ready　for　the　wild　blue　yonder；　Major。〃
　Vylander　nodded　without　taking　his　eyes　off　the　sinister…looking　canisters。　〃Okay；　let's　put　this　chamber　of　horrors　on　the　road。〃
　The　first　engine　turned　over　and　sputtered　to　life；　followed　quickly　by　the　other　three。　Then　the　auxiliary…power　unit　was　unplugged；　the　chocks　holding　the　wheels　were　pulled；　and　Vylander　began　taxiing　the　overburdened　aircraft　toward　the　end　of　the　main　runway。　The　security　guards　and　the　maintenance　crew　turned　away　and　scurried　for　the　warmth　of　a　nearby　hangar　as　the　prop　wash　lashed　their　backs。
　Admiral　Bass　stood　in　the　Buckley　control　tower　and　watched　the　Stratocruiser　crawl　like　a　pregnant　bug　across　the　snow…swept　field。　A　phone　was　clutched　in　his　hand　and　he　spoke　quietly　into　the　receiver。
　〃You　may　inform　the　President　that　Vixen　03　is　preparing　for　takeoff。〃
　〃When　do　you　figure　its　estimated　time　of　arrival？〃　asked　the　stern　voice　of　Charles　Wilson；　Secretary　of　Defense；　through　the　earpiece。
　〃Allowing　for　a　fuel　stop　at　Hickam　Field；　in　Hawaii；　Vixen　03　should　touch　down　in　the　test　area　approximately　1400　hours　Washington　time。〃
　〃Ike　has　scheduled　us　for　08：00　hours　tomorrow。　He　insists　on　a　detailed　briefing　of　the　uping　experiments　and　a　running　report　on　Vixen　O3's　flight　progress。〃
　〃I'll　take　off　for　Washington　immediately。〃
　〃I　don't　have　to　paint　you　a　picture；　Admiral；　of　what　would　happen　if　that　plane　crashed　in　or　near　a　major　city。〃
　Bass　hesitated　in　what　seemed　a　long　and　terrible　silence。　〃Yes；　Mr。　Secretary；　it　would　indeed　be　a　nightmare　none　of　us　could　live　with。〃
　〃The　manifold　pressure　and　the　torque　read　a　shade　low　across　the　board；〃　announced　Sergeant　Burns。　He　watched　over　the　engineer's　panel　with　the　intensity　of　a　ferret。
　〃Enough　to　abort？〃　Gold　asked　hopefully。
　〃Sorry；　Lieutenant。　Internal…bustion　engines　won't　perform　in　the　thin　mountain　air　of　Denver　like　they　will　at　sea　level。　Considering　the　altitude；　the　gauge　readings　are　par　for　the　course。〃
　Vylander　gazed　at　the　strip　of　asphalt　ahead。　The　snowfall　had　light…ened；　and　he　could　almost　see　the　halfway　marker。　His　heart　began　to　throb　a　little　faster；　keeping　time　with　the　rapid　beat　of　the　windshield　wipers。　God；　he　thought　to　himself；　it　looks　no　bigger　than　a　shuffleboard　court。　As　if　in　a　trance；　he　reached　over　and　picked　up　his　hand　mike。
　〃Buckley　Control；　this　is　Vixen　03。　Ready　to　roll。　Over。〃
　〃She's　all　yours；　Vixen　03；〃　the　familiar　voice　of　Admiral　Bass　scratched　through　the　headphones。　〃Save　a　big…chested　native　girl　for　me。〃
　Vylander　simply　signed　off；　released　the　brakes；　and　shoved　the　four　throttles　against　their　stops。
　The　C…97　pushed　her　bulbous　nose　into　the　blowing　snow　and　began　her　struggle　down　the　long　ribbon　of　pavement　as　Gold　began　calling　out　the　increasing　ground　speed　in　a　monotone。
　〃Fifty　knots。〃
　All　too　soon　an　illuminated　sign　with　a　large　number　9　flashed　by。
　〃Nine　thousand　feet　to　go；〃　Gold　droned。　〃Ground　speed　seventy。〃
　The　white　runway　lights　blurred　past　the　wing　tips。　The　Stratocruiser　lunged　onward；　the　powerful　Pratt…Whitney　engines　straining　in　their　mounts；　their　four…bladed　propellers　clawing　at　the　rarefied　air。　Vylander's　hands　were　cemented　to　the　wheel；　his　knuckles　twisted　white；　his　lips　murmuring　intermingled　prayers　and　curses。
　〃One　hundred　knots　。　。　。　seven　thousand　feet　left。〃
　Burns's　eyes　never　left　his　instrument　panel；　studying　every　twitch　of　the　gauge　needles；　ready　to　detect　the　first　signs　of　trouble。　Hoffman　could　do　nothing　but　sit　there　helplessly　and　watch　the　runway　dissolve　at　what　seemed　to　him　an　excessive　rate　of　speed。
　〃One　twenty…five。〃
　Vylander　was　fighting　the　controls　now；　as　the　vicious　cross　wind　attacked　the　control　surfaces