tc.redstormrising-第128部分

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　miles；　it　sounded　like　a　loud　string　of　firecrackers　as　the　hilltop　disappeared　in　a　cloud　of　dust　and　sparks。　A　second　aircraft　repeated　the　maneuver　twenty　seconds　later。　There　could　be　nothing　left　alive　on　the　hilltop。
The　attacking　Russians　stopped　cold　in　their　tracks　and　turned　to　see　what　had　happened　to　their　base　camp。　Then　they　saw　that　more　aircraft　were　circling　only　two　thousand　yards　away。　It　was　clear　to　everyone　that　their　best　chance　to　stay　alive　another　five　minutes　was　to　get　as　close　to　the　Americans　as　they　could。　As　one　man；　the　Russian　squads　rose　firing　their　weapons　and　ran　up　the　hill。　Two　more　Corsairs　wheeled　in　the　sky　and　darted　in；　their　pilots　drawn　by　the　movement。　They　swept　in　level　only　a　hundred　feet　above　the　slopes　and　loosed　pairs　of　cluster　bombs。　Edwards　heard　the　screams　over　the　thunder　of　the　explosives；　but　could　see　nothing　through　the　cloud　of　dust　that　rose　before　his　eyes。
〃Christ；　they　can't　drop　much　closer　than　that。〃
〃They　can't　drop　any　closer　than　that；〃　Nichols　said；　wiping　blood　from　his　face。
They　could　still　hear　rifle　fire　from　within　the　dust。　The　wind　blew　it　way；　and　at　least　five　Russians　were　still　up　and　moving　toward　them。　The　Navy　Corsairs　made　another　run　in　but　broke　off；　unable　to　drop　so　close　to　friendly　troops。　They　curved　back　in　seconds；　firing　their　cannon。　The　shells　scattered　wildly；　with　some　exploding　ten　yards　from　Edwards's　face。
〃Where'd　they　go？〃
〃The　left；　I　think；〃　Nichols　answered。　〃You　can't　talk　directly　to　the　fighters？〃
Edwards　shook　his　head。　〃Not　that　kind　of　radio；　Sarge。〃
The　A…7s　circled　overhead　while　their　pilots　watched　the　ground　for　movement。　Edwards　tried　to　wave　at　them；　but　couldn't　tell　if　they　recognized　the　gesture　or　not。　One　of　them　dove　to　his　left　and　fired　a　cannon　burst　into　the　rocks。　Edwards　heard　a　scream；　but　saw　nothing。
〃Stalemate。〃　Edwards　turned　to　look　at　his　satellite　radio。　The　last　set　of　mortar　rounds　had　sent　a　fragment　through　the　backpack。
〃Down！〃　Nichols　grabbed　the　lieutenant　as　a　grenade　arced　through　the　air。　It　exploded　a　few　feet　away。　〃Here　they　e　again。〃
Edwards　turned　and　put　a　fresh　magazine　in　his　rifle。　He　saw　two　Russians　fifty　feet　away　and　fired　a　long　burst。　One　went　down　on　his　face。　The　other　returned　fire　and　dodged　left。　He　felt　a　weight　on　his　legs　and　saw　Nichols　down　on　his　back　with　a　trio　of　red　holes　in　his　shoulder。　Edwards　put　the　last　magazine　in　his　rifle　and　moved　awkwardly　across　the　hill　to　the　left；　unable　to　put　much　weight　on　his　right　leg。
〃Michael　。　。　。〃
〃Go　the　other　way；〃　Edwards　replied。　〃Look　out！〃
He　saw　a　face　and　a　rifle…and　a　flash。　Edwards　dove　right；　too　late　to　keep　from　being　hit　in　the　chest。　Only　shock　kept　the　pain　from　being　unbearable。　He　fired　a　few　rounds　into　the　air　to　keep　the　man's　head　down　as　he　backpedaled　his　feet　to　get　away。　Where　was　everyone？　There　was　rifle　fire　to　his　right。　Why　wasn't　anybody　helping　him？　He　heard　the　roar　of　jet　engines　as　the　A…7s　continued　to　circle；　unable　to　do　anything　but　watch　in　frustration。　He　cursed　them　as　he　bled。　His　wounded　leg　revolted　at　being　used　this　way；　and　his　left　arm　was　useless。　Edwards　held　the　rifle　like　an　oversized　handgun　as　he　waited　for　the　Russian　to　appear。　He　felt　hands　under　his　arms　dragging　him　backwards。
〃Drop　me；　Vigdis；　for　Christ's　sake；　drop　me　and　run。〃
She　said　nothing。　Her　breathing　was　heavy　as　she　struggled；　stumbling；　to　pull　him　over　the　rocks。　He　was　losing　consciousness　from　the　blood　loss；　and　looked　up　to　see　the　A…7s　drawing　off。　There　was　another　sound　that　didn't　seem　to　make　much　sense。　Dust　rose　around　him　with　a　sudden　wind　and　there　was　another　long　burst　of　machine…gun　fire　as　a　huge　green…black　shape　appeared　overhead。　Men　jumped　out；　and　it　was　all　over。　He　closed　his　eyes。　The　Russian　mander　had　gotten　through　to　Keflavik。　Here　was　the　Mi…24　to　reinforce　the　outpost　。　。　。　Edwards　was　too　drained　to　react。　He'd　run　a　good　race　and　lost。　There　was　more　chattering　rifle　fire；　then　silence　as　the　helicopter　moved　off。　How　did　the　Russians　treat　prisoners　who'd　killed　helpless　men？
〃Your　name　Beagle？〃
It　required　the　greatest　effort　of　his　life　to　open　his　eyes。　He　saw　a　black　man　standing　over　him。
〃Who're　you？〃
〃Sam　Potter。　I'm　a　lieutenant　with　Second　Force　Recon。　You're　Beagle；　right？〃　He　turned。　〃We　need　a　corpsman　over　here！〃
〃My　people　are　all　hurt。〃
〃We're　working　on　it。　We'll　have　you　outa　here　in　five　minutes。　Hang　in　there；　Beagle。　I　gotta　go　do　some　work。　Okay；　people；〃　he　called　loudly。　〃Let's　get　those　Russians　checked　out。　If　we　got　any　live　ones；　we　wanna　move　them　the　hell　off　this　rock　right　now！〃
〃Michael？〃　Edwards　was　still　confused。　Her　face　was　right　above　his　when　he　lost　consciousness。
〃Just　who　the　hell　is　this　guy？〃　Lieutenant　Potter　asked　five　minutes　later。
〃Wing…wiper。　He　done　good；〃　Smith　said；　wincing　with　his　own　injuries。
〃How'd　you　get　here？〃　Potter　waved　for　his　radio　operator。
〃We　fucking　walked　all　the　way　from　Keflavik；　sir。〃
〃Quite　a　trip；　Sarge。〃　Potter　was　impressed。　He　gave　a　short　radio　order。　〃Chopper's　on　the　way　in　now。　I　guess　the　lady　goes　out　too。〃
〃Yes；　sir。　Wele　to　Iceland；　sir。　We　been　waiting　for　you。〃
〃Take　a　look；　Sarge。〃　Potter's　arm　swept　to　the　west。　A　series　of　gray　bumps　on　the　horizon　headed　east　toward　Stykkisholmur。

USS　CHICAGO
They　were　still　out　there；　McCafferty　was　sure…but　where？　After　killing　the　last　Tango；　contact　had　never　been　reestablished　with　the　other　two　Russian　submarines。　Eight　hours　of　relative　peace　rewarded　his　evasive　maneuvering。　The　Russian　ASW　aircraft　were　still　overhead；　still　dropping　sonobuoys；　but　something　had　gone　wrong　for　them。　They　weren't　ing　very　close　now。　He'd　had　to　maneuver　clear　only　four　times。　That　would　have　been　a　lot　in　peacetime；　but　after　the　past　few　days　it　seemed　like　a　vacation。
The　captain　had　taken　the　chance　to　rest　himself　and　his　crew。　Though　they　would　all　have　gratefully　accepted　a　month　in　bed；　the　four　or　six　hours　of　sleep　they'd　all　had　were　like　a　cup　of　water　for　a　man　in　the　desert；　enough　to　get　them　a　little　farther。　And　there　was　only　a　little　farther　to　go：　exactly　one　hundred　miles　to　the　jagged　edge　of　the　arctic　ice。　Sixteen　hours　or　so。
Chicago　was　about　five　miles　ahead　of　her　sisters。　Every　hour；　McCafferty　would　maneuver　his　sub　to　an　easterly　course　and　allow　his　towed　array　sonar　to　get　a　precise　fix　on　them。　That　was　hard　enough：　Boston　and　Providence　were　difficult　to　pick　up　even　at　this　distance。
He　wondered　what　the　Russians　were　thinking。　The　mobbing　tactics　of　the　Krivak…Grisha　teams　had　failed。　They'd　learned　that　it　was　one　thing　to　use　those　ships　for　barrier　operations　against　the　Keypunch　team；　but　something　very　different　to　rush　after　a　submarine　with　long…range　weapons　and　puterized　fire…control。　Their　dependence　on　active　sonobuoys　had　reduced　the　effectiveness　of　their　ASW　patrol　aircraft；　and　the　one　thing　that　had　nearly　worked…placing　a　diesel　sub　between　two　sonobuoy　lines；　then　spooking　their　target　into　moving　with　a　randomly　dropped　torpedo…had　failed　also。　Thank　God　they　didn't　know　how　close　they　came　with　that；　McCafferty　thought　to　himself。　Their　Tango…class　subs　were　formidable　opponents；　quiet　and　hard　to　locate；　but　the　Russians　were　still　paying　for　their　unsophisticated　sonars。　All　in　all；　McCafferty　was　more　confident　now　than　he'd　been　in　weeks。
〃Well？〃　he　asked　his　plotting　officer。
〃Looks　like　they're　steaming　as　before；　sir；　about　ten　thousand　yards　behind　us。　I　think　this　one's　Boston。　She's　maneuvering　a　lot　more。　Providence　here　is　plodding　along　pretty　straight。　We　got　a　good　fix　on　her。〃
〃Left　ten　degrees　rudder；　e　to　new　course　three…five…five；〃　McCafferty　ordered。
〃Left　ten　degrees　rudder；　aye；　ing　to　new　course　three…five…five。　Sir；　my　rudder　is　left　ten　degrees。〃
〃Very　well。〃　The　captain　sipped　at　a　cup　of　hot　cocoa。　It　made　a　nice　change　of　pace　from　coffee。　Chicago　turned　slowly　north。　In　the　engine　spaces　aft；　the　submarine's　engineer　crew　kept　watch　on　their　instruments　as　the　reactor　plant　turned　out　an　even　10…percent　power。
About　the　only　bad　news　was　the　storm　on　the　surface。　For　some　reason　a　series　of　squalls　was　parading　around　the　top　of　the　world；　and　this　one　was　a　real　growler。　The　sonar　crew　estimated　fifteen…foot　waves　and　forty…knot　winds；　unusual　for　the　arctic　summer。　It　knocked　10　to　20　percent　off　their　sonar　performance；　but　would　make　for　ideal　conditions　as　they　approached　the　icepack。　The　sea　conditions　would　be　grinding　acre…sized　ice　floes　into　ice　chips；　and　that　much　noise　would　make　the　American　subs　very　hard　to　detect　in　the　ice。　Sixteen　hours；　McCafferty　told　himself。　Sixteen　hours　and　we're　out　of　here。
〃Conn；　sonar；　we　have　a　contact　bearing　three…four…zero。　Not　enough　data　to　classify　at　this　time。〃
McCafferty　went　forward　to　sonar。
〃Show　me。〃
〃Right　here；　skipper。〃　The　chief　tapped　the　display。　〃I　can't　give　you　a　bladecount　yet；　too　sketchy　for　anything；　Well；　it　smells　like　a　nuclear　boat；〃　the　chief　allowed。
〃Put　up　your　model。〃
The　chief　pushed　a　button　and　a　secondary　screen　displayed　the　predicted　sonar　range；　generated　by　puter　from　known　local　water　conditions。　Their　direct…path　sonar　range　was　just　over　thirty　thousand　yards。　The　water　was　not　deep　enough　yet　for　convergence　zones；　and　they　were　beginning　to　get　low…frequency　background　noise　from　the　icepack。　It　would　impede　their　ability　to　discriminate　sonar　contacts　in　the　same　way　bright　sunlight　lessens　the　apparent　intensity　of　an　electric　light。
〃Getting　a　slow　bearing　change　here。　Going　left…to…right；　bearing　to　target　is　now　three…four…two　。　。　。　fading　out　a　little　bit。　What's　this？〃　The　chief　looked　at　a　new　fuzzy　line　on　the　bottom　of　the　display。　〃Possible　new　contact　bearing　zero…zero…four。〃　The　line　faded　out　and　stayed　out　for　two　minutes；　then　came　back　on　bearing　zero…zero…six。
McCafferty　debated　whether　to　go　to　battle　stations。　On　one　hand　he　might　need　to　engage　a　target　very　soon　。　。　。　but　probably　not。　Wouldn't　it　be　better　to　give　his　crew　a　few　more　minutes'　rest？　He　decided　to　wait。
〃Firming　up。　We　now　have　two　possible　submarine　contacts；　bearing　three…four…zero　and　zero…zero…four。〃
McCafferty　went　back