The Ice Limit

nausea, fear, and cold. They couldn't let it go. He seemed suspended: he thought of Nestor, and what it meant to die, and he thought of sinking in the cold dark bottomless water — and suddenly he was very, very afraid of death. The fear surged over him, temporarily usurping the intellectual functioning of his brain.

'Sam! Jesus Christ, tell them!'

McFarlane tried to speak, but the wind had risen and his words were lost in the howl.

'What?' Lloyd cried. 'Everyone, listen to Sam! Sam —'

'Let it go,' McFarlane said.

An incredulous look filled Lloyd's face, and he was temporarily speechless.

'You heard her,' McFarlane said. 'It's going to the bottom regardless. The fight's over.' A feeling of hopelessness swept over him. He felt a warmth at the corners of his eyes and realized it was tears. Such a waste, such a waste...

Abruptly, Lloyd turned, abandoning McFarlane for Glinn. 'Eli? Eli! You've never failed me before, there's always been something in that bag of tricks. Help me here, I beg you. Don't let them drop the rock.'

His voice had taken on a pathetic, beseeching tone. The man was unraveling before their eyes.

Glinn said nothing as the ship began to roll again. McFarlane followed Britton's eyes to the inclinometer. All talk ceased as the wind shrieked through the broken bridge windows. Then the terrible sound began again. The Rolvaag hesitated, thirty degrees on its side, everyone clinging desperately, the vessel wallowing broadside to. McFarlane gripped a bulkhead rail. The terror he felt was now helping to clear his mind, sweeping away his regret. All he wanted to do was get rid of it.

'Recover,' he heard Britton murmur. 'Recover.'

The ship remained heeled stubbornly to port. The bridge hung so far out over the side of the ship that McFarlane could see nothing but black water below the windows. He was swept with a feeling of vertigo. And then, with an immense shudder, it gradually began to right.

As soon as the deck leveled, Lloyd let go of the computer, his face torn with a mixture of horror, rage, and frustration. McFarlane could see the same terror working in him, clearing his mind as well, illuminating the sole rational course left them.

'All right,' Lloyd finally said. 'Let it go.' He buried his face in his hands.

Britton spoke to Glinn. 'You heard him. Get rid of it, now.' Relief sounded clearly through the tension in her voice.

Slowly, almost mechanically, Glinn sat down at the EES console. He placed his fingers on the keyboard. Then he glanced at McFarlane. 'Tell me, Sam. If the meteorite reacts to salinity, what will happen when it hits the open ocean underneath the ship?'

McFarlane started. In all the mayhem, he had not stopped to consider this. He thought quickly.

'Seawater is a conductor,' he replied. 'The meteorite's discharge will be attenuated through it.'

'Are you sure it won't blow up the ship?'

McFarlane hesitated. 'No.'

Glinn nodded. 'I see.'

They waited. There was no sound of typing. Glinn sat hunched over the keyboard, motionless.

Silence fell again as the ship subsided into another trough.

Glinn half turned his head, fingers still poised over the keys. 'This is an unnecessary step,' he said quietly. 'And it is also too dangerous.'

His long white hands fell away from the keys, and he stood up slowly to face them. 'The ship will survive. Rochefort's work has never failed. There is no need to use the dead man's switch. In this instance, I am in agreement with Mr. Lloyd.'

There was a moment of shocked silence.

'When the meteorite comes into contact with seawater, the explosion could sink the ship,' Glinn went on.

'I told you, the charge will be dispersed through the seawater,' said McFarlane.

Glinn pursed his lips. 'So you think. We can't risk damaging the jettison doors. If they can't be closed, the tank will flood.'

Britton spoke: 'What's certain is that if the meteorite isn't jettisoned, the Rolvaag will go down. Eli, don't you understand? We aren't going to last a dozen more rolls.'

The ship began to rise on the next wave.

'Sally, you're the last person I'd expect to panic.' Glinn's voice was calm, confident. 'We can ride this out.'

Britton took an audible breath. 'Eli, I know my ship. It's over, for God's sake. Can't you see that?'

'Not at all,' said Glinn. 'The worst has passed. Trust me.'

The word trust hung in the air as the ship rolled farther and farther. The bridge seemed to have been shocked into paralysis, every eye on Glinn. And still the ship rolled.

Garza's voice came on the speaker, faint now, fading in and out 'Eli! The web is failing! Did you hear me? Failing!'

Glinn wheeled toward the microphone. 'Stay with it, man. I'll be down there in a moment.'

'Eli, the foundation of the cradle is being rocked to pieces. There's metal everywhere. I've got to get the men out of here. '

'Mr. Garza!' Britton spoke into the ship's intercom. 'This is the captain speaking. Are you familiar with the dead man's switch?'

'I built it.'

'Then trigger it.'

Glinn stood, impassive. McFarlane watched him, trying to understand this sudden change. Was Glinn right? Could the ship — the meteorite — survive? Then he glanced at the faces of the officers. The abject terror in their eyes told him a different story. The ship poised at the crest of the wave, twisted, groaned, sank back again.

'The dead man's switch must be initiated from the EES computer on the bridge,' said Garza. 'Eli has the codes..'

'Can you do it manually?' Britton asked.

'No. Eli! For God's sake, hurry. We don't have much time before this thing rolls right through the side of the ship.'

'Mr. Garza,' Britton said. 'Order your men to their abandon stations.'

Glinn spoke: 'Garza, I contravene that order. We won't fail. Stay at your work.'

'No way, sir. We're evacuating.' The radio went dead.

Glinn looked pale. He glanced around the bridge. The ship subsided into a trough, and silence fell.

Britton stepped toward Glinn and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. 'Eli,' she said. 'I know you have it in you to admit failure. I know you've got courage enough to do that. Right now you're the only one with the power to save us and this ship. Execute the dead man's switch, please.'

McFarlane watched as she stretched out her other hand and clasped Glinn's. He seemed to waver.

Suddenly, silently, Puppup returned to the bridge. He was streaming wet, dressed once again in his old rags. There was a strange excitement in his face, an expectancy, that chilled McFarlane.

Glinn smiled and squeezed Britton's hand. 'What nonsense. Sally, I really expected more of you. Don't you see we can't fail? We've planned far too carefully for that. There's no need to invoke the dead man's switch. In fact, under the circumstances, it would be dangerous to do so.' He looked around. 'I don't blame any of you. This is a complex situation, and fear is an understandable reaction. But you have to consider what I've just brought you through, virtually single-handedly. I can promise you, the web will hold, and the ship will weather the storm. We're certainly not going to end it here — not because of a regrettable failure of nerve.'

McFarlane wavered, feeling a surge of hope. Maybe Glinn was right. The man was so persuasive, so confident. He had succeeded under the most unlikely circumstances. He saw that Lloyd, too, looked eager, wanting to be convinced.

The ship rose. It heeled. All talk ceased as everyone clung for their lives to whatever handholds they could