tc.redstormrising-第48部分

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Edwards　looked　around。　There　was　no　one　on　the　streets　here　yet；　but　they'd　want　to　get　into　the　back　country　before　being　noticed　by　anybody　who　might　tell　someone　about　it　afterward。　He　nodded；　and　the　sergeant　directed　a　private　to　lead　off。　They　took　off　their　helmets　and　slung　their　rifles　to　appear　as　harmless　as　possible；　each　sure　that　a　hundred　pairs　of　eyes　were　locked　on　them　from　behind　the　curtained　windows。　What　a　way　to　start　a　war；　he　thought。

MV　JULIUS　FUCIK
〃The　fires　are　out；　by　God！〃　General　Andreyev　proclaimed。　〃There　is　much　damage　to　our　equipment；　mainly　from　water；　but　the　fires　are　out！〃　His　expression　changed　when　he　saw　Kherov。
The　captain　was　ghostly　pale。　An　Army　medic　had　bandaged　his　wound；　but　there　had　to　be　internal　bleeding。　He　struggled　to　hold　himself　erect　over　the　chart　table。
〃e　right　to　zero…zero…three。〃
A　junior　officer　was　on　the　wheel。　〃Right　to　zero…zero…three；　rade　Captain。〃
〃You　must　lie　down；　my　captain；〃　Andreyev　said　softly。
〃I　must　get　my　ship　to　safe　harbor　first！〃
The　Fucik　ran　almost　due　north；　the　westerly　wind　and　sea　on　her　beam；　and　water　was　lapping　at　the　missile　wound。　His　earlier　optimism　was　fading。　Some　seams　in　the　lower　hull　had　sprung　from　the　missile　impact；　and　water　was　entering　the　lower　cargo　deck；　though　so　far　the　pumps　were　keeping　up　with　it。　There　was　twenty　thousand　tons　of　cargo　to　deliver。
〃Captain；　you　must　have　medical　attention；〃　Andreyev　persisted。
〃After　we　round　the　point。　When　we　have　the　damaged　port　side　alee；　then　I　shall　be　tended　to。　Tell　your　men　to　stay　alert。　One　more　successful　attack　could　finish　us。　And　tell　them　they　have　done　well。　I　would　be　happy　to　sail　with　them　again。〃

USS　PHARRIS
〃Sonar　contact；　possible　submarine　bearing　three…five…three；〃　the　sonarman　announced。
And　so　it　begins；　Morris　said　to　himself。　PHARRIS　was　at　general　quarters　for　the　first　leg　of　the　trip　away　from　the　U。S。　coast。　The　frigate's　tactical　towed…array　sonar　was　trailed　out　in　her　wake。　They　were　twenty　miles　north　of　the　convoy；　a　hundred　ten　miles　east　of　the　coast；　just　crossing　the　continental　shelf　line　into　truly　deep　water　at　the　Lindenkohl　Canyon。　A　perfect　place　for　a　submarine　to　hide。
〃Show　me　what　you　have；〃　the　ASW　officer　ordered。　Morris　kept　his　peace　and　just　watched　his　men　at　work。
The　sonarman　pointed　to　the　waterfall　display。　It　showed　as　a　series　of　small　digital　blocks；　numerous　shades　of　green　on　a　black　background。　Six　blocks　in　a　row　were　different　from　the　random　background　pattern。　Then　a　seventh。　The　fact　that　they　were　in　a　vertical　row　meant　that　the　noise　was　being　generated　at　a　constant　bearing　from　the　ship；　just　west　of　north。　Up　to　now；　all　they　had　was　a　direction　to　a　possible　noise　source。　They　had　no　way　of　knowing　the　distance　nor　any　of　deterrmining　if　it　were　really　a　submarine；　a　fishing　boat　with　an　overly　loud　motor；　or　simply　a　disturbance　in　the　water。　The　signal　source　did　not　repeat　for　a　minute；　then　came　back。　Then　it　disappeared　again。
Morris　and　his　ASW　officer　looked　at　the　bathythermograph　reading。　Every　two　hours　they　dropped　an　instrument　that　measured　water　temperature　as　it　fell　through　the　water；　reporting　back　by　wire　until　it　was　cut　loose　to　fall　free　to　the　bottom。　The　trace　showed　an　uneven　line。　The　water　temperature　decreased　with　depth；　but　not　in　a　uniform　way。
〃Could　be　anything；〃　the　ASW　officer　said　quietly。
〃Sure　could；〃　the　captain　agreed。　He　went　back　to　the　sonar　scope。　It　was　still　there。　The　trace　had　remained　fairly　constant　for　nine　minutes　now。
But　what　was　the　range　to　it？　Water　was　a　fine　medium　for　carrying　sound　energy；　far　more　efficient　at　it　than　air；　but　it　had　its　own　rules。　One　hundred　feet　below　the　PHARRIS　was　〃the　layer；〃　a　fairly　abrupt　change　in　water　temperature。　Like　an　angled　pane　of　glass；　it　allowed　some　sound　to　pass　through；　but　reflected　most　of　it。　Some　of　the　energy　would　be　ducted　between　layers；　retaining　its　intensity　for　an　enormous　distance。　The　signal　source　they　were　listening　to　could　be　as　close　as　five　miles　or　as　distant　as　fifty。　As　they　watched；　the　scope　trace　started　leaning　a　bit　to　the　left；　which　meant　that　they　were　pulling　east　of　it　。　。　。　or　it　was　pulling　west　of　them；　as　a　submarine　might　slide　aft　of　her　target　as　part　of　her　own　hunting　maneuver。　Morris　went　forward　to　the　plotting　table。
〃If　it's　a　target；　it's　pretty　far　off；　I　think；〃　the　quartermaster　said　quietly。　It　was　surprising　how　quiet　people　were　during　antisubmarine　warfare　exercises；　Morris　thought；　as　though　a　submarine　might　hear　their　voices。
〃Sir；〃　the　ASW　officer　said　after　a　moment。　〃With　no　perceptible　change　in　bearing；　the　contact　has　to　be　a　good　fifteen　miles　off。　That　means　it　has　to　be　a　fairly　noisy　source；　probably　too　far　to　be　an　immediate　threat。　If　it's　a　nuclear　sub；　we　can　get　a　cross…bearing　after　a　short　sprint。〃
Morris　looked　to　the　CIC's　after　bulkhead。　His　frigate　was　steaming　at　four　knots。　He　lifted　a　〃growler〃　phone。
〃Bridge；　bat。〃
〃Bridge　aye。　XO　speaking。〃
〃Joe；　let's　bend　on　twenty　knots　for　five　minutes。　See　if　we　can　get　a　cross…bearing　on　the　target　we're　working。〃
〃Aye；　skipper。〃
A　minute　later；　Morris　could　feel　the　change　in　his　ship's　motion　as　her　steam　plant　drove　the　frigate　hard　through　the　six…foot　seas。　He　waited　thoughtfully；　wishing　his　ship　had　one　of　the　more　sensitive　2X　arrays　being　fitted　to　the　Perry…class　fast…frigates。　It　was　a　predictably　long　five　minutes；　but　ASW　was　a　game　that　demanded　patience。
Power　was　reduced；　and　as　the　ship　slowed；　the　pattern　on　the　sonar　screen　changed　from　random　flow　noise　to　random　ambient　noise；　something　more　easily　perceived　than　described。　The　captain；　his　ASW　officer；　and　the　sonar　operator　watched　the　screen　intently　for　ten　minutes。　The　anomalous　sound　tracing　did　not　reappear。　In　a　peacetime　exercise　they　would　have　decided　that　it　was　a　pure　anomaly；　water…generated　noise　that　had　stopped　as　unpredictably　as　it　had　started；　perhaps　a　minor　eddy　that　subsided　on　the　surface。　But　now　everything　they　detected　had　a　potential　red　star　and　a　periscope　attached。
My　first　dilemma；　Morris　thought。　If　he　investigated　by　sending　his　own　helicopter　or　one　of　the　Orion　patrol　aircraft；　he　might　be　sending　them　after　nothing　at　all；　and　away　from　a　path　that　could　end　with　a　real　contact。　If　he　did　nothing；　he　might　not　be　prosecuting　a　real　contact。　Morris　sometimes　wondered　if　captains　should　be　issued　coins　with　YES　and　NO　stamped　on　either　side；　perhaps　called　a　〃digital　decision　generator〃　in　keeping　with　the　Navy's　love　for　electronic…sounding　titles。
〃Any　reason　to　think　it's　real？〃　he　asked　the　ASW　officer。
〃No；　sir。〃　The　officer　wondered　by　this　time　if　he　had　been　right　to　call　it　to　his　captain's　attention。　〃Not　now。〃
〃Fair　enough。　It　won't　be　the　last　one。〃

19　…　Journeys　End/Journeys　Begin

HAFNARFJORDUR；　ICELAND
Sergeant　James　Smith　was　a　pany　clerk；　which　meant　that　he　carried　his　mander's　maps；　Edwards　was　grateful　to　learn。　He　would　have　been　less　happy　to　learn　what　Smith　thought　about　what　they　were　doing；　and　who　was　leading　this　party。　A　pany　clerk　was　also　supposed　to　pack　an　ax　with　him；　but　since　Iceland　was　almost　entirely　devoid　of　trees；　his　was　still　in　the　pany　headquarters；　probably　burned　down　to　a　charred　axhead　by　now。　They　walked　east　in　silence；　their　eyes　punished　by　the　low　sun；　past　two　kilometers　of　lava　field　that　gave　mute　testimony　to　Iceland's　volcanic　birth。
They　moved　fast；　without　pausing　for　rest。　The　sea　was　at　their　back　and　as　long　as　they　could　see　it；　men　on　the　coast　might　see　them。　Each　puff　of　dust　raised　by　their　boots　made　them　feel　increasingly　vulnerable　and　Private　Garcia；　who　brought　up　the　rear　of　their　small　unit；　periodically　turned　and　walked　backward　for　a　few　yards　to　be　sure　that　no　one　was　following　them。　The　others　looked　ahead；　to　the　sides；　and　up。　They　were　sure　that　Ivan　had　thought　to　bring　a　helicopter　or　two　along。　Few　things　can　make　a　man　feel　as　naked　as　an　aircraft　filled　with　eyes。
The　ground　was　almost　totally　barren。　Here　and　there　a　few　sprigs　of　grass　fought　their　way　through　the　rocks　to　sunlight；　but　for　the　most　part　the　terrain　was　as　barren　as　the　surface　of　the　moon…the　Apollo　astronauts　had　trained　somewhere　in　Iceland　for　that　very　reason；　Edwards　remembered。　The　mild　surface　winds　scoured　up　the　slopes　they　were　climbing；　raising　small　quantities　of　dust　that　made　the　lieutenant　sneeze　periodically。　He　was　already　wondering　what　they　would　do　when　their　rations　ran　out。　This　was　no　place　to　try　living　off　the　land。　He'd　been　in　Iceland　only　for　a　few　months；　and　hadn't　had　a　single　chance　to　tour　the　countryside。　Cross　one　bridge　at　a　time；　Edwards　told　himself。　People　grow　their　own　food　everywhere。　There　have　to　be　farms　around；　and　you'll　be　able　to　find　them　on　the　maps。
〃Chopper！〃　Garcia　called　out。
The　private　had　a　great　set　of　eyes；　Edwards　noted。　They　couldn't　hear　it　yet；　but　there　it　was　on　the　horizon；　ing　in　from　the　sea。
〃Everybody　down。　Let　me　see　those　glasses；　Sergeant。〃　Edwards　held　out　his　hand　as　he　sat。　Smith　came　down　next　to　him；　the　binoculars　already　at　his　eyes。
〃It's　a　Hip；　sir。　Troop　carrier。〃　He　handed　the　glasses　ov