alistairmaclean.icestationzebra-第49节

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　the　forefinger　and　thumb　of　that　hand。〃　I　glanced　across　at　Rawlings；　as　recovered　as　anyone　could　get　in　that　foul　atmosphere；　and　said：　〃How　are　you　feeling　now？〃
　 〃Just　resting　lightly。〃　He　rose　from　his　chair　and　picked　up　his　breathing　equipment。　〃Have　no　fears；　Doc。　With　torpedoman　first　class　Rawlings　by　your　side〃
　 〃We　have　plenty　of　fresh　men　still　available　aft；　Dr。Carpenter；〃　Swanson　said。
　 〃No。　Rawlings。　It's　for　his　own　sake。　Maybe　he'll　get　two　medals　now　for　this　night's　work。〃
　 Rawlings　grinned　and　pulled　the　mask　over　his　head。　Two　minutes　later　we　were　inside　the　engine　room。
　 It　was　stiflingly　hot　in　there；　and　visibility；　even　with　the　powerful　beam　of　our　flashlights；　didn't　exceed　eighteen　inches；　but　for　the　rest　it　wasn't　too　bad。　The　breathing　apparatus　functioned　well　enough；　and　I　was　conscious　of　no　disfort。　At　first；　that　was。
　 Rawlings　took　my　arm　and　guided　me　to　the　head　of　a　ladder　that　reached　down　to　the　deck　of　the　machinery　space。　I　heard　the　penetrating　hiss　of　a　fire　extinguisher　and　peered　around　to　locate　its　source。
　 A　pity　they　had　no　submarines　in　the　Middle　Ages；　I　thought；　the　sight　of　that　little　lot　down　there　would　have　given　Dante　an　extra　fillip　when　he　started　in　on　his　Inferno。　Over　on　the　starboard　side；　two　very　powerful　floodlights　had　been　slung　above　the　huge　turbine：　the　visibility　they　gave　varied　from　three　to　six　feet；　according　to　the　changing　amount　of　smoke　given　off　by　the　charred　and　smoldering　insulation。　At　the　moment；　one　patch　of　the　insulation　was　deeply　covered　in　a　layer　of　white　foamcarbon　dioxide　released　under　pressure　immediately　freezes　anything　with　which　it　es　in　contact。　As　the　man　with　the　extinguisher　stepped　back；　three　others　moved　forward　in　the　swirling　gloom　and　started　hacking　and　tearing　away　at　the　insulation。　As　soon　as　a　sizable　strip　was　dragged　loose　the　exposed　lagging　below　immediately　burst　into　flame　reaching　the　height　of　a　man's　head；　throwing　into　sharp　relief　weird　masked　figures　leaping　backward　to　avoid　being　scorched　by　the　flames。　And　then　the　man　with　the　CO2　would　approach　again；　press　his　trigger；　the　blaze　would　shrink　down；　flicker；　and　die；　and　a　coat　of　creamy　white　foam　would　bloom　where　the　fire　had　been。　Then　the　entire　process　would　be　repeated　all　over　again。　The　whole　scene　with　the　repetitively　stylized　movements　of　the　participants　highlit　against　a　smoky；　oil…veined　background　of　flickering　crimson　was　somehow　weirdly　suggestive　of　the　priests　of　a　long…dead　and　alien　culture　offering　up　some　burnt　sacrifice　on　their　blood…stained　pagan　altar。
　 It　also　made　me　see　Swanson's　point：　at　the　painfully　but　necessarily　slow　rate　at　which　those　men　were　making　progress；　four　hours　would　be　excellent　par　for　the　course。　I　tried　not　to　think　what　the　air　inside　the　Dolphin　would　be　like　in　four　hours'　time。
　 The　man　with　the　extinguisherit　was　Raeburncaught　sight　of　us；　came　across；　and　led　me　through　a　tangled　maze　of　steam　pipes　and　condensers　to　where　Ringman　was　lying。　He　was　on　his　back；　very　still；　but　conscious：　I　could　see　the　movement　of　the　whites　of　his　eyes　behind　his　goggles。　I　bent　down　till　my　mask　was　touching　his。
　 〃Your　leg？〃　I　shouted。
　 He　nodded。
　 〃Left？〃
　 He　nodded　again；　reached　out　gingerly；　and　touched　a　spot　halfway　down　the　shinbone。　I　opened　the　medical　case；　pulled　out　scissors；　pinched　the　clothes　on　his　upper　arm　between　finger　and　thumb；　and　cut　a　piece　of　the　material　away。　The　hypodermic　came　next　and　within　two　minutes　he　was　asleep。　With　Rawlings'　help；　I　laid　splints　against　his　leg　and　bandaged　them　roughly　in　place。　Two　of　the　fire　fighters　stopped　work　long　enough　to　help　us　drag　him　up　the　ladder；　and　then　Rawlings　and　I　took　him　through　the　passage　above　the　reactor　room。　I　became　aware　that　my　breathing　was　now　distressed；　my　legs　shaking；　and　my　whole　body　bathed　in　sweat。
　 Once　in　the　control　center；　I　took　off　my　mask　and　immediately　began　to　cough　and　sneeze　uncontrollably；　tears　streaming　down　my　cheeks。　Even　in　the　few　minutes　we　had　been　gone；　the　air　in　the　control　room　had　deteriorated　to　a　frightening　extent。
　 Swanson　said；　〃Thank　you；　Doctor。　What's　it　like　in　there？〃
　 〃Quite　bad。　Not　intolerable；　but　not　nice。　Ten　minutes　is　long　enough　for　your　fire　fighters　at　one　time。〃
　 〃Fire　fighters　I　have　plenty　of。　Ten　minutes　it　shall　be。〃
　 A　couple　of　burly　enlisted　men　carried　Ringman　through　to　the　sick　bay。　Rawlings　had　been　ordered　for'ard　for　rest　and　recuperation　in　the　paratively　fresh　air　of　the　mess　room；　but　he　elected　to　stop　off　at　the　sick　bay　with　me。　He'd　glanced　at　my　bandaged　left　hand　and　said；　〃Three　hands　are　better　than　one；　even　though　two　of　them　do　happen　to　belong　to　Rawlings。〃
　 Benson　was　restless　and　occasionally　murmuring　but　still　below　the　level　of　consciousness。　Captain　Folsom　was　asleep；　deeply　so；　which　I　found　surprising　until　Rawlings　told　me　that　there　were　no　alarm　boxes　in　the　sick　bay　and　that　the　door　was　pletely　sound…proofed。
　 We　laid　Ringman　down　on　the　examination　table；　and　Rawlings　slit　his　trouser　leg　with　a　pair　of　heavy　surgical　scissors。　It　wasn't　as　bad　as　I　had　feared　it　would　be：　a　clean　fracture　of　the　tibia；　not　pound。　With　Rawlings　doing　most　of　the　work；　we　soon　had　his　leg　fixed　up。　I　didn't　try　to　put　his　leg　in　traction；　when　Jolly；　with　his　two　good　hands；　had　pletely　recovered；　he'd　be　able　to　make　a　better　job　of　it　than　I　could。
　 We'd　just　finished　when　a　telephone　rang。　Rawlings　lifted　it　quickly　before　Folsom　could　hear　it；　spoke　briefly；　and　hung　up。
　 〃Control　room；〃　he　said。　I　knew　from　the　wooden　expression　on　his　face　that　whatever　news　he　had　for　me；　it　wasn't　good。　〃It　was　for　you。　Bolton；　the　sick　man　in　the　nucleonics　lab；　the　one　you　brought　back　from　Zebra　yesterday　afternoon。　He's　gone。　About　two　minutes　ago。〃　He　shook　his　head　despairingly。　〃My　God；　another　death。〃
　 〃No；〃　I　said。　〃Another　murder。〃
　
　
　11
　
　 The　〃Dolphin〃　was　an　ice…cold　tomb。　At　half…past　six　that　morning；　four　and　a　half　hours　after　the　outbreak　of　the　fire；　there　was　still　only　one　dead　man　inside　the　shipBolton。　But　as　I　looked　with　bloodshot　and　inflamed　eyes　at　the　men　sitting　or　lying　about　the　control　roomno　one　was　standing　any　moreI　knew　that　within　an　hour；　two　at　the　most；　Bolton　would　be　having　pany。　By　ten　o'clock　at　the　latest；　under　those　conditions；　the　〃Dolphin〃　would　be　no　more　than　a　steel　coffin　with　no　life　left　inside　her。
　 As　a　ship　the　〃Dolphin〃　was　already　dead。　All　the　sounds　we　associated　with　the　living　vessel；　the　murmurous　pulsation　of　great　engines；　the　high…pitched　whine　of　generators；　the　deep　hum　of　the　air…conditioning　unit；　the　unmistakable　transmission　from　the　sonar；　the　clickety…clack　from　the　radio　room；　the　soft　hiss　of　air；　the　brassy　jingle　from　the　juke　box；　the　whirring　of　fans；　the　rattle　of　pots　from　the　galley；　the　movement　of　men；　the　talking　of　menall　those　were　gone。　All　those　vital　sounds；　the　heartbeats　of　a　living　vessel；　were　gone；　but　in　their　place　was　not　silence　but　something　worse　than　silence；　something　that　bespoke　not　living　but　dying；　the　frighteningly　rapid；　hoarse；　gasping　breathing　of　lung…tortured　men　fighting　for　air　and　for　life。
　 Fighting　for　air。　That　was　the　irony　of　it。　Fighting　for　air　while　there　were　still　many　days'　supply　of　oxygen　in　the　giant　tanks。　There　were　some　breathing　sets　aboard；　similar　to　the　British　Built…in　Breathing　System；　which　takes　a　direct　oxynitrogen　mixture　from　tanks；　but　only　a　few；　and　all　members　of　the　crew　had　had　a　chance　at　those；　but　only　for　two　minutes　at　a　time。　For　the　rest；　for　the　more　than　ninety　per　cent　without　those　systems；　there　was　only　the　panting；　straining　agony　that　leads　eventually　to　death。　Some　portable　closed…circuit　sets　were　still　left；　but　those　were　reserved　exclusively　for　the　fire　fighters。
　 Oxygen　was　occasionally　bled　from　the　tanks　directly　into　the　living　spaces；　and　it　just　didn't　do　any　good　at　all；　the　only　effect　it　seemed　to　have　was　to　make　breathing　even　more　cruelly　difficult　by　heightening　the　atmospheric　pressure。　All　the　oxygen　in　the　world　was　going　to　be　of　little　avail　as　long　as　the　level　of　carbon　dioxide　given　off　by　our　anguished　breathing　mounted　steadily　with　the　passing　of　each　minute。　Normally；　the　air　in　the　Dolphin　was　cleaned　and　circulated　throughout　the　ship　every　two　minutes；　but　the　giant　200…ton　air　conditioner　responsible　for　this　was　a　glutton　for　the　electric　power　that　drove　it；　and　the　electricians'　estimate　was　that　the　reserve　of　power　in　the　standby　battery；　which　alone　could　reactivate　the　nuclear　power　plant；　was　already　dangerously　low。　So　the　concentration　of　carbon　dioxide　increased　steadily　toward　lethal　levels；　and　there　was　nothing　we　could　do　about　it。
　 Increasing；　too；　in　what　passed　now　for　air；　were　the　Freon　fumes　from　the　refrigerating　machinery　and　the　hydrogen　fumes　from　the　batteries。　Worse　still；　the　smoke　was　now　so　thick　that　visibility；　even　in　the　for'ard　parts　of　the　ship；　was　down　to　a　few　feet；　but　that　smoke　had　to　remain　also；　there　was　no　power　to　operate　the　electrostatic　precipitators；　and　even　when　those　had　been　briefly　tried；　they　had　p