tc.redstormrising-第49部分

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　the　binoculars　already　at　his　eyes。
〃It's　a　Hip；　sir。　Troop　carrier。〃　He　handed　the　glasses　over。
〃I'll　take　your　word　for　it；〃　Edwards　replied。　He　could　see　the　ungainly　shape；　perhaps　three　miles　away；　heading　southeast　toward　Hafnarfjordur。　〃Looks　like　it's　heading　for　the　piers。　Oh。　They　came　in　on　a　ship。　They　want　to　dock　it；　and　they'll　want　to　secure　the　waterfront　first。〃
〃Makes　sense；〃　Sergeant　Smith　agreed。
Edwards　followed　the　helicopter　until　it　dropped　behind　some　buildings。　Less　than　a　minute　later；　it　was　up　again；　heading　back　northwest。　He　gave　the　horizon　a　close　look。
〃Looks　like　a　ship　out　there。〃

MV　JULIUS　FUCIK
Kherov　moved　slowly　back　to　the　chart　table　with　an　Army　medic　at　his　side。　His　pumps　were　almost　keeping　up　with　the　inflow　of　water。　The　Fucik　was　down　half　a　meter　at　the　bow。　Portable　fire　pumps　were　being　set　near　the　bilges　to　draw　more　seawater　out　and　eject　it　over　the　side　through　the　hole　the　American　missile　had　made。　He　smiled　wanly　to　himself。　An　Army　medic　followed　him　around。　The　General　had　practically　pulled　a　gun　on　the　captain；　forcing　him　to　allow　the　medic　to　give　him　a　bottle　of　blood　plasma　and　some　morphine。　He　was　grateful　for　the　latter…his　pain　was　still　there；　but　not　nearly　so　bad　as　it　had　been。　The　plasma　container　was　a　damned　nuisance；　with　the　medic　holding　it　aloft　as　he　moved　around　the　pilothouse。　But　he　knew　he　needed　it。　Kherov　wanted　to　stay　alive　a　few　hours　longer…and　who　knows；　he　thought；　if　the　regimental　surgeon　has　skill；　I　might　even　live　。　。　。
There　were　more　important　things　at　hand。　He　had　studied　the　charts　of　this　port；　but　he　had　never　been　here　before。　He　had　no　pilot。　There　would　be　no　harbor　tugs；　and　the　tiny　barge…tugs　carried　in　his　ship's　split　stem　would　be　useless　for　docking。
The　helicopter　circled　his　ship　after　making　its　first　trip。　A　miracle　that　it　flew　at　all；　the　captain　thought；　after　having　the　one　next　to　it　shattered　by　that　strafing　run。　The　mechanics　had　managed　to　extinguish　that　fire　rapidly　and　place　a　curtain　of　water　fog　around　the　other　aircraft。　Some　minor　repairs　had　been　needed；　there　were　an　even　dozen　holes　in　the　sheet　metal；　but　there　it　was；　hovering　just　aft　of　the　superstructure；　landing　slowly　and　awkwardly　in　the　roiled　air。
〃How　are　you　feeling；　my　captain？〃　the　General　inquired。
〃How　do　I　look？〃　A　brave　smile　that　failed　to　draw　one　in　return。　The　General　knew　that　he　should　physically　carry　the　man　to　his　surgeon's　emergency　medical　post；　but　who　then　would　dock　the　ship？　Captain　Kherov　was　dying　before　his　eyes。　The　medic　had　made　that　clear　enough。　There　was　internal　bleeding。　The　plasma　and　bandages　couldn't　hope　to　keep　up　with　it。　〃Have　your　men　secured　their　objectives？〃
〃They　report　some　fighting　still　at　the　air　base；　but　it　Will　soon　be　under　control。　The　first　team　at　the　main　quay　reports　no　one　there。　That　will　be　secure；　my　captain。　You　should　rest　a　bit。〃
Kherov　shook　his　head　like　a　drunken　man。　〃That　will　e　soon　enough。　Fifteen　more　kilometers。　We　race　in　too　fast　as　it　is。　The　Americans　may　yet　have　some　aircraft　heading　for　us。　We　must　get　to　the　dock　and　unload　your　equipment　before　noon。　I　have　lost　too　many　of　my　crewmen　to　fail。〃

HAFNARFJORDUR；　ICELAND
〃We　gotta　report　this；〃　Edwards　said　quietly。　He　shrugged　out　of　his　pack　and　opened　it。　He'd　watched　a　man　test　the　radio　before；　and　saw　that　instructions　were　printed　on　the　side　of　the　radio　set。　The　six　pieces　of　the　antenna　fitted　easily　into　the　pistol　grip。　Next　he　plugged　in　his　headset　and　switched　the　radio　on。
He　was　supposed　to　point　the　flowerlike　antenna　at　a　satellite　on　the　30*　meridian；　but　he　didn't　have　a　pass　to　tell　him　where　that　was。　Smith　unfolded　a　map　and　selected　a　landmark　in　that　general　direction。　Edwards　pointed　the　antenna　at　it　and　waved　it　slowly　across　the　sky　until　he　heard　the　warbling　carrier　wave　of　the　munications　bird。
〃Okay。〃　Edwards　turned　the　frequency　knob　to　a　preselected　channel　and　toggled　the　Transmit　switch。
〃Anyone　on　this　net；　this　is　Mike　Edwards；　first　lieutenant；　United　States　Air　Force；　transmitting　from　Iceland。　Please　acknowledge；　over。〃　Nothing　happened。　Edwards　reread　the　instructions　to　make　sure　he　was　doing　the　right　thing；　and　rebroadcast　the　same　message　three　more　times。
〃Sender　on　this　net；　please　identify。　Over。〃　A　voice　finally　answered。
〃Edwards；　Michael　D。；　first　lieutenant；　U。S。　Air　Force；　serial　number　328…61…4030。　I'm　the　meteorological　officer　attached　to　the　57th　Fighter　Interceptor　Squadron　at　Keflavik。　Who　is　this？　Over。〃
〃If　you　don't　know　that；　pal；　you　don't　belong　on　this　net。　Clear　off；　we　need　this　for　official　traffic；〃　the　voice　answered　coldly。　Edwards　stared　at　the　radio　in　mute　rage　for　several　seconds　before　exploding。
〃Listen　up；　asshole！　The　guy　who　knows　how　to　work　this　damned　radio　is　dead；　and　I'm　all　you　got。　The　base　at　Keflavik　was　hit　seven　hours　ago　by　a　Russian　air　and　ground　attack。　The　place　is　crawling　with　bad　guys；　there's　a　Russian　ship　ing　into　Hafnarfjordur　harbor　right　now；　and　you're　playing　fucking　word　games！　Let's　get　it　together；　mister。　Over！〃
〃Copy　that。　Stand　by。　We　have　to　verify　who　you　are。〃　Not　a　trace　of　remorse。
〃Dammit；　this　thing　works　on　batteries。　You　want　me　to　run　them　down　while　you　open　a　file　cabinet？〃
A　new　voice　came　on　the　circuit。　〃Edwards；　this　is　the　senior　munications　watch　officer。　Get　off　the　air。　They　might　be　able　to　monitor　you。　We'll　check　you　out　and　be　back　in　three…zero　minutes　from　now。　You　got　that？　Over。〃
That　was　more　like　it。　The　lieutenant　checked　his　watch。　〃Roger；　understand。　We'll　be　back　in　three…zero　minutes。　Out。〃　Edwards　flipped　the　power　switch　off。　〃Let's　get　moving。　I　didn't　know　they　could　track　in　on　this。〃　The　good　news　was　that　the　radio　broke　down　in　under　two　minutes；　and　they　were　moving　again。
〃Sarge；　let's　head　for　this　Hill　152。　We　should　be　able　to　see　pretty　good　from　up　there；　and　there's　water　on　the　way。〃
〃It's　hot　water；　sir；　full　of　sulfur。　Just　as　soon　not　drink　that　shit；　if　you　know　what　I　mean。〃
〃Suit　yourself。〃　Edwards　moved　off　at　a　slow　trot。　Once　as　a　boy　he'd　had　to　call　in　to　report　a　fire。　They'd　believed　him　then。　Why　not　now？

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Kherov　knew　that　he　was　finishing　the　work　that　the　Americans　had　begun。　Driving　his　ship　into　the　harbor　at　eighteen　knots　was　worse　than　reckless。　The　sea　bottom　here　was　rock；　not　mud；　and　a　grounding　could　easily　rip　his　bottom　out。　But　he　feared　another　air　attack　even　more；　and　he　was　sure　that　a　flight　of　American　fighters　was　heading　this　way；　laden　with　missiles　and　bombs　that　would　rob　him　of　success　in　the　most　important　mission　of　his　life。
〃Midships！〃　he　called。
〃Rudder　amidships；〃　the　helmsman　acknowledged。
He'd　learned　minutes　before　that　his　first　officer　was　dead；　from　wounds　sustained　in　the　first　strafing　attack。　His　best　helmsman　had　died　screaming　before　his　eyes；　along　with　many　of　his　skilled　deck　crewmen。　He　had　only　one　man　qualified　to　take　the　shore　sightings　necessary　for　a　positive　position　fix。　But　the　quay　was　in　sight；　and　he'd　depend　on　a　seaman's　eye。
〃Slow　to　half　speed；〃　he　ordered。　The　helmsman　relayed　the　order　on　the　engine　room　telegraph。
〃Rudder　right　full。〃　He　watched　his　ship's　head　e　slowly　right。　He　stood　on　the　centerline　of　the　bridge；　carefully　lining　his　jackstaff　up　with　the　quay。　There　was　no　one　trained　to　handle　the　mooring　lines。　He　wondered　if　the　soldiers　could　manage　it。
The　ship　touched　bottom。　Kherov　was　thrown　from　his　feet　and　cursed　loudly　with　pain　and　rage。　He'd　misjudged　his　approach。　The　Fucik　shuddered　as　she　slid　across　the　rocky　bottom。　There　was　no　time　to　check　his　chart。　When　the　tide　turned；　the　harbor's　strong　eddy　currents　would　make　his　landing　an　impossible　nightmare。
〃Reverse　your　rudder。〃　A　minute　later　the　ship　was　fully　afloat　again。　The　captain　ignored　the　flooding　alarms　that　hooted　behind　him。　The　hull　was　penetrated；　or　maybe　the　damaged　seams　had　sprung　farther。　No　matter。　The　dock　was　a　mere　thousand　meters　away。　It　was　a　massive　quay　made　of　rough　stone。　〃Midships。　All　stop。〃
The　ship　was　moving　far　too　fast　to　stop。　The　soldiers　on　the　dock　could　already　see　that；　and　were　slowly　backing　up；　away　from　the　edge；　fearing　that　it　would　crumble　when　the　ship　struck。　Kherov　grunted　with　dark　amusement。　So　much　for　the　line　handlers。　Eight　hundred　meters。
〃All　back　full。〃
Six　hundred　meters。　The　ship's　whole　mass　shuddered　as　the　engines　fought　to　slow　her。　She　headed　into　the　berth　at　a　thirty…degree　angle；　her　speed　now　eight　knots。　Kherov　walked　to　the　engine　room　voice　tube。
〃On　my　order；　shut　down　the　engines；　pull　the　manual　sprinkler　handle；　and　evacuate　the　engine　spaces。〃
〃What　are　you　doing？〃　the　General　asked。
〃We　cannot　moor　to　the　quay；〃　Kherov　answered　simply。　〃Your　soldiers　don't　know　how　to　handle　the　lines；　and　many　of　my　seamen　are　dead。〃　The　berth　Kherov　had　selected　was　precisely　half　a　meter　shallower　than　his　ship's　draft。　He　went　back　to　the　voice　tube。
〃Now；　rades！〃
Below；　the　chief　engineer　gave　the　orders。　His　chief　machinist　cut　off　the　diesel　engines　and　ran　to　the　escape　ladder。　The　engineer　yanked　the　emergency　handle　for　the　fire…suppression　system