p&c.icelimit-第69部分

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　Another　crackle　of　explosions；　and　titanium　struts　flashed　out；　bouncing　and　skidding　along　the　maindeck　and　ricocheting　off　the　rails。　He　could　hear　the　thunk　of　additional　struts　falling　away　into　the　tank。　There　were　occasional　ticks　of　gravel　on　the　bridge　windows　now；　picked　off　the　nearby　bluff　by　the　rising　wind。　The　panteonero　was　descending　in　earnest。
　Glinn's　radio　squawked。　〃Two　more　feet　and　we'll　have　clearance；〃　came　the　metallic　voice　of　Garza。
　〃Stay　on　this　channel。　I　want　you　to　call　out　each　drop。〃
　Puppup　opened　the　door　and　entered　the　bridge；　rubbing　his　eyes　and　yawning。
　〃Visibility　two　thousand　yards；〃　said　the　second　officer。　〃The　fog's　lifting　fast。　The　warship　will　have　visual　contact　with　us　at　any　moment。〃
　McFarlane　heard　a　rumble　of　thunder。　It　was　drowned　out　by　another　great　boom　as　the　vessel　made　contact　with　the　bluff　for　a　second　time。
　〃Increase　RPM　on　main　engines！〃　barked　Britton。　A　new　vibration　was　added　to　the　mix。
　〃Eighteen　inches　to　go；〃　came　Garza's　voice　from　the　maindeck。
　〃Lightning　at　five　miles。　Visibility　twenty…five　hundred　yards。〃
　〃Initiate　blackout；〃　Glinn　said。
　Instantly；　the　brilliantly　lit　deck　was　plunged　into　darkness　as　the　ship　went　black。　The　ambient　light　from　the　superstructure　cast　a　dull　glow　over　the　meteorite；　its　top　now　barely　visible。　The　whole　ship　was　shaking　…　whether　from　the　meteorite's　descent；　the　rollers　now　crashing　along　its　flank；　or　the　wind；　it　was　impossible　for　McFarlane　to　tell。　There　was　another　round　of　explosions；　and　the　meteorite　sank　still　lower。　Both　Britton　and　Glinn　were　calling　out　mands　now；　there　was　an　awkward　moment　in　which　the　ship　seemed　to　have　two　masters。　As　the　fog　rolled　back；　McFarlane　could　see　that　the　channel　was　a　turmoil　of　whitecaps；　heaved　up　and　down　by　bers。　His　eyes　remained　glued　to　the　nocturnal　seascape　beyond　the　windows；　waiting　for　the　sharp　prow　of　the　destroyer　to　materialize。
　〃Six　inches；〃　said　Garza　over　the　radio。
　〃Prepare　to　close　the　hatch；〃　Glinn　said。
　There　was　a　flash　of　lightning　to　the　southwest；　followed　shortly　by　a　faint　rumble。
　〃Visibility　four　thousand　yards。　Lightning　at　two　miles。〃
　McFarlane　became　aware　of　Rachel；　gripping　his　elbow　hard。　〃Jesus；　that's　too　close；〃　she　murmured。
　And　there　it　was：　the　destroyer　off　to　the　right；　a　dim　cluster　of　lights；　flickering　through　the　storm。　As　McFarlane　stared；　the　fog　peeled　away　from　the　destroyer。　It　was　stationary；　lights　ablaze；　as　if　flaunting　its　presence。　There　was　another　explosion；　another　shudder。
　〃She's　in；〃　came　Garza's　voice。
　〃Close　the　mechanical　doors；〃　Britton　said　crisply。　〃Slip　cable；　Mr。　Howell。　Smartly。　Set　course　one　three　five。〃
　There　was　a　fresh　set　of　explosions；　and　the　great　hawsers　that　moored　the　ship　to　the　cliff　dropped　away；　swinging　lazily　toward　the　bluff。
　〃Right　fifteen　degrees　rudder；　steady　on　course　one　three　five；〃　said　Howell。
　
　Almirante　Ramirez；
　3：55　A。M。
　
　JUST　OVER　a　mile　away；　andante　Vallenar　paced　his　own　bridge。　It　was　unheated；　and；　as　he　preferred；　manned　with　the　minimum　plement。　He　stared　out　the　forward　windows　toward　the　ship's　castillo；　the　forecastle。　He　could　see　nothing　through　the　lightening　fog。　Then；　abruptly；　he　veered　toward　the　oficial　de　guardia　en　la　mer；　the　conning　officer；　who　was　standing　in　the　radar　alcove。　He　leaned　over　his　shoulder　to　scrutinize　the　forward…looking　infrared　radar。　The　tanker's　signature　showed　him　nothing　he　did　not　already　know；　and　answered　none　of　his　questions。　Why　was　the　ship　still　moored　to　the　shore？　In　the　gathering　storm；　it　had　bee　increasingly　dangerous　to　remain。　Could　they　be　attempting　to　move　the　meteorite　toward　the　ship？　No　…　before　the　fog　had　moved　in；　he'd　watched　them　struggling　ineffectively　with　it　in　the　island's　interior。　Even　now；　he　could　hear　the　frantic　grinding　of　machinery。　And　the　chatter　of　talk　over　the　shore　radio　was　continuing。　Still；　it　seemed　foolish　to　endanger　the　ship　by　leaving　it　strung　to　shore。　And　the　man　Glinn　was　no　fool。
　What；　then；　was　going　on？
　Earlier；　the　loud　thud　of　propeller　blades　had　sounded　over　the　wind　as　a　helicopter　hovered　nearby；　landed；　then　departed。　There　had　been　the　sound　of　nearby　explosions　…　much　smaller　than　those　from　the　island；　but　apparently　originating　from　the　vicinity　of　the　ship。　Or　perhaps　from　the　ship　itself。　Could　there　have　been　some　accident　on　board？　Were　there　casualties？　Had　Timmer　mandeered　a　weapon　and　tried　to　escape？
　He　turned　from　the　ancient　green　radar　screen　and　gazed　intently　into　the　darkness。　Through　the　flickering　tatters　of　fog　and　sleet；　he　thought　he　glimpsed　lights。　The　fog　was　lifting　and　he　would　soon　have　visual　contact　with　the　ship。　He　blinked　hard；　then　looked　again。　The　lights　were　gone。　Wind　whipped　against　the　ship；　whistling　and　crying。　Vallenar　had　heard　that　cry　before。　It　was　a　panteonero。
　He'd　already　ignored　several　orders　to　return　to　base；　each　more　urgent；　more　threatening；　than　the　last。　It　was　the　corruption；　the　bribed　officials；　calling　him　back。　By　the　Mother　of　God；　they　would　thank　him　in　the　end。
　He　could　feel　the　movement　of　his　ship　in　the　heavy　swell；　a　corkscrew　motion　that　he　did　not　like。　The　anchor　to　the　uncharted　underwater　ledge　held　…　the　best　anchorage；　the　only　anchorage；　in　the　Franklin　Channel。
　What　was　going　on？
　He　would　not　wait　for　noon　to　get　an　answer　about　Timmer。　At　first　light；　he　would　fire　a　few　four…inch　shells　high　into　their　bows　…　nothing　that　would　sink　the　ship；　of　course；　but　enough　to　disable　it　and　get　their　attention。　Then　he　would　deliver　an　ultimatum：　hand　over　Timmer　or　die。
　Something　flickered　through　the　parting　sheets　of　fog。　He　stared；　face　close　to　the　glass。　There　they　were　again：　lights；　no　doubt　of　it。　He　strained　into　the　darkness。　The　fog　and　sleet　whipped　past；　but　he　saw　it　again；　fleetingly；　and　then　again。　Now；　the　outline　of　the　great　ship　was　being　visible　in　the　lifting　murk。　He　raised　his　binoculars　…　and　the　ship　disappeared。　He　cursed　as　he　examined　the　blackness。　And　then；　again；　he　saw　lights：　one　light　now；　very　faint。
　The　bastards　had　darkened　ship。
　What　were　they　hiding？
　He　stepped　backward；　glancing　at　the　FLIR　scope；　trying　to　pull　some　kind　of　meaning　out　of　the　blurry　green　smear。　Something；　he　sensed；　was　about　to　happen。　Perhaps　the　time　to　act　was　now。
　He　turned　to　the　boatswain's　mate。　〃Sound　general　quarters；〃　he　said。
　The　mate　leaned　into　the　IMC。　〃General　quarters；　general　quarters；　all　hands　man　battle　stations。〃
　A　claxon　horn　went　off。　Almost　immediately；　the　jefe　de　la　guardia　en　la　mer；　the　tactical　action　officer；　appeared　on　the　bridge　and　saluted。
　Vallenar　opened　a　stores　closet　and　pulled　out　a　bulky　set　of　Sovietski　night…vision　goggles。　Strapping　them　in　place　around　his　head；　he　stepped　toward　the　windows　and　peered　out　again。　The　Russian　technology　was　not　as　good　as　the　ITT　devices　made　by　the　Americans；　but　then　again　they　were　not　nearly　as　expensive。　He　glanced　out　toward　the　tanker。
　With　the　goggles；　he　could　see　more　clearly。　Figures　were　scurrying　across　the　deck；　clearly　making　preparations　to　get　under　way。　But；　perplexingly；　the　greatest　activity　seemed　to　center　around　a　large　open　hatch　in　the　middle　of　the　deck。　Something　was　protruding　from　the　hatchway；　something　Vallenar　could　not　quite　make　out。
　As　he　stared；　there　was　a　searing　flicker　of　small　explosions　just　above　the　open　tank。　The　second…generation　night　goggles；　unequipped　with　safety　cutouts；　overloaded　in　the　glare。　Vallenar　staggered　backward；　clawing　at　the　goggles；　pulling　them　from　his　face　and　rubbing　his　eyes　with　a　curse。
　〃Target　by　fire　control；〃　he　called　out　to　the　tactical　action　officer。　〃Do　not　engage　with　four…inch　guns　until　I　so　order。〃
　There　was　a　slight　hesitation。
　Although　spots　still　swayed　in　front　of　his　eyes；　Vallenar　turned　sharply　in　the　direction　of　the　weapons　officer。　〃Aye　aye；　sir；〃　came　the　reply。　〃Targeted　by　fire　control。　Tracking　data　transferred　to　weapons　system。〃
　Vallenar　turned　to　the　conning　officer。　〃Prepare　to　raise　anchor。〃
　〃Aye；　preparing　to　raise　anchor。〃
　〃How　is　our　fuel？〃
　〃Fifty…five