cc.vixen03-第2部分

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　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。　A　trickle　of　sweat　rolled　unnoticed　down　his　left　cheek　and　dropped　into　his　lap。　Grimly；　he　waited　for　some　sign　indicating　that　the　craft　was　beginning　to　lighten；　but　it　still　felt　as　though　a　giant　hand　were　pushing　against　the　cabin's　roof。
　〃One　hundred　thirty…five　knots。　Kiss　the　five…thousand…foot　marker　farewell。〃
　〃Lift；　baby；　lift；〃　Hoffman　pleaded　as　Gold's　readings　began　falling　one　on　top　of　the　other。
　〃One　hundred　forty…five　knots。　Three　thousand　feet　left。〃　He　turned　to　Vylander。　〃We　just　passed　the　go；　no…go　point。〃
　〃So　much　for　Admiral　Bass's　safety　margin；〃　Vylander　muttered。
　〃Two　thousand　feet　ing　up。　Ground　speed　one　fifty…five。〃
　Vylander　could　see　the　red　lights　at　the　end　of　the　runway。　It　felt　as　though　he　were　steering　a　rock。　Gold　kept　glancing　at　him　nervously；　anticipating　the　movement　of　the　elbows　that　meant　the　major　had　engaged　the　controls　for　the　climb。　Vylander　sat　still；　as　immovable　as　a　sack　of　Portland　cement。
　〃Oh　God　。。。　the　one…thousand…foot　marker　。　。　。　going；　going；　gone。〃
　Vylander　gently　eased　back　the　control　column。　For　almost　three　seconds；　which　seemed　an　eternity；　nothing　happened。　But　then　with　agonizing　slowness　the　Stratocruiser　slipped　the　ground　and　staggered　aloft　a　scant　fifty　yards　before　the　asphalt　stopped。
　〃Gear　up！〃　he　said　hoarsely。
　There　were　a　few　uneasy　moments　until　the　landing　gear　thumped　inside　their　wheel　wells　and　Vylander　could　feel　a　slight　increase　in　airspeed。
　〃Gear　up　and　locked；〃　said　Gold。
　The　flaps　were　raised　at　four　hundred　feet　and　the　men　in　the　cabin　expelled　a　great；　collective　sigh　of　relief　as　Vylander　banked　into　a　shallow　turn　to　the　northwest。　The　lights　of　Denver　blinked　beneath　the　port　wing　but　quickly　became　lost　as　the　overcast　closed　in。　Vylander　didn't　relax　fully　until　the　airspeed　crept　over　two　hundred　knots　and　the　altimeter　showed　thirty…five　hundred　feet　between　the　plane　and　the　ground。
　〃Up；　up　and　away；〃　sighed　Hoffman。　〃I　don't　mind　admitting　I　had　a　couple　of　tiny　doubts　there　for　a　while。〃
　〃Join　the　club；〃　said　Burns；　grinning。
　As　soon　as　he　broke　through　the　clouds　and　leveled　the　Stratocruiser　out　at　sixteen　thousand　feet　on　a　westerly　heading　over　the　Rockies；　Vylander　motioned　to　Gold。
　〃Take　her。　I'm　going　to　make　a　check　aft。〃
　Gold　looked　at　him。　The　major　did　not　normally　relinquish　the　con…trols　so　early　in　the　flight。
　〃Got　her；〃　Gold　acknowledged；　placing　his　hands　on　the　yoke。
　Vylander　released　his　seat　belt　and　shoulder　harness　and　stepped　into　the　cargo　section；　making　sure　the　door　to　the　cockpit　was　closed　behind　him。
　He　counted　thirty…six　of　the　gleaming　stainless…steel　canisters；　firmly　strapped　to　wooden　blocks　on　the　deck。　He　began　carefully　checking　the　surface　area　of　each　canister。　He　searched　for　the　usual　stenciled　mili…tary　markings　denoting　weight；　date　of　manufacture；　inspector's　initials；　handling　instructions。　There　were　none。
　After　nearly　fifteen　minutes　he　was　about　to　give　up　and　return　to　the　cockpit　when　he　spotted　a　small　aluminum　plate　that　had　fallen　down　between　the　blocks。　It　had　an　adhesive　backing；　and　Vylander　felt　a　tinge　of　smugness　as　he　matched　it　to　a　sticky　spot　of　stainless　steel　where　it　had　once　been　bonded。　He　held　the　plate　up　to　the　dim　cabin　light　and　squinted　at　its　smooth　side。　The　tiny　engraved　marking　confirmed　his　worst　fear。
　He　stood　for　a　time；　staring　at　the　little　aluminum　plate。　Suddenly　he　was　jolted　out　of　his　reverie　by　a　lurch　of　the　aircraft。　He　rushed　across　the　cargo　cabin　and　threw　open　the　door　to　the　cockpit。
　It　was　filled　with　smoke。
　〃Oxygen　masks！〃　Vylander　shouted。　He　could　barely　make　out　the　outlines　of　Hoffman　and　Burns。　Gold　was　pletely　enveloped　in　the　bluish　haze。　He　groped　his　way　to　the　pilot's　seat　and　fumbled　for　his　oxygen　mask；　wincing　at　the　acrid　smell　of　an　electrical　short　circuit。
　〃Buckley　Tower；　this　is　Vixen　03；〃　Gold　was　yelling　into　a　micro…phone。　〃We　have　smoke　in　the　cockpit。　Request　emergency…landing　instructions。　Over。〃
　〃Taking　over　the　controls；〃　said　Vylander。
　〃She's　yours。〃　Gold's　acceptance　came　without　hesitation。
　〃Burns？〃
　〃Sir？〃
　〃What　in　hell's　gone　wrong？〃
　〃Can't　tell　for　sure　with　all　this　smoke；　Major。〃　Burns's　voice　sounded　hollow　under　the　oxygen　mask。　〃It　looks　like　a　short　in　the　area　of　the　radio　transmitter。〃
　〃Buckley　Tower；　this　is　Vixen　03；〃　Gold　persisted。　〃Please　e　in。〃
　〃It's　no　use；　Lieutenant；〃　Burns　gasped。　〃They　can't　hear　you。　No…body　can　hear　you。　The　circuit　breaker　for　the　radio　equipment　won't　stay　set。〃
　Vylander's　eyes　were　watering　so　badly　he　could　hardly　see。　〃I'm　bringing　her　around　on　a　course　back　to　Buckley；〃　he　announced　calmly。
　But　before　he　could　plete　the　hundred…and…eighty…degree　turn；　the　C…97　started　to　vibrate　abruptly　in　unison　with　a　metallic　ripping　sound。　The　smoke　disappeared　as　if　by　magic　and　a　frigid　blast　of　air　tore　into　the　small　enclosure；　assailing　the　men's　exposed　skin　like　a　thousand　wasps。　The　plane　was　shaking　herself　to　pieces。
　〃Number…three　engine　threw　a　propeller　blade！〃　Burns　cried。
　〃Jesus　Christ；　it　never　rains　。　。　。　Shut　down　three！〃　snapped　Vylander；　〃and　feather　what's　left　of　the　prop。〃
　Gold's　hands　flew　over　the　control　panel；　and　soon　the　vibration　ceased。　His　heart　sinking；　Vylander　gingerly　tested　the　controls。　His　breath　quickened　and　a　growing　dread　mushroomed　inside　him。
　〃The　prop　blade　ripped　through　the　fuselage；〃　Hoffman　reported。　There's　a　six…foot　gash　in　the　cargo…cabin　wall。　Cables　and　hydraulic　lines　are　dangling　all　over。〃
　〃That　explains　where　the　smoke　went；〃　Gold　said　wryly。　〃It　was　sucked　outside　when　we　lost　cabin　pressure。〃
　〃It　also　explains　why　the　ailerons　and　rudder　won't　respond；〃　Vylander　added。　〃We　can　go　up　and　we　can　go　down；　but　we　can't　turn　and　bank。〃
　〃Maybe　we　can　slue　her　around　by　opening　and　closing　the　cowl　flaps　on　engines　one　and　four；〃　Gold　suggested。　〃At　least　enough　to　put　us　in　the　landing　pattern　at　Buckley。〃
　〃We　can't　make　Buckley；〃　Vylander　said。　〃Without　number…three　engine；　we're　losing　altitude　at　the　rate　of　nearly　a　hundred　feet　a　minute。　We're　going　to　have　to　set　her　down　in　the　Rockies。〃
　His　announcement　was　greeted　with　stunned　silence。　He　could　see　the　fear　grow　in　his　crew　members'　eyes；　could　almost　smell　it。
　〃My　God；〃　groaned　Hoffman。　〃It　can't　be　done。　We'll　ram　the　side　of　a　mountain　for　sure。〃
　〃We've　still　got　power　and　some　measure　of　control；〃　Vylander　said。　〃And　we're　out　of　the　overcast；　so　we　can　at　least　see　where　we're　going。〃
　〃Thank　heaven　for　small　favors；〃　grunted　Burns。
　〃What's　our　heading？〃　asked　Vylander。
　〃Two…two…seven　southwest；〃　answered　Hoffman。　〃We've　been　thrown　almost　eighty　degrees　off　our　plotted　course。〃
　Vylander　merely　nodded。　There　was　nothing　more　to　say。　He　turned　all　his　concentration　to　keeping　the　Stratocruiser　on　a　lateral　level。　But　there　was　no　stopping　the　rapid　descent。　Even　with　full…power　settings　on　the　remaining　three　engines；　there　was　no　way　the　heavily　laden　plane　could　maintain　altitude。　He　and　Gold　could　only　sit　by