p&c.icelimit-第34章

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　But　as　he　stared　at　the　collection　of　broken　bones；　Brambell　felt　an　uncharacteristic　curiosity　stirring　within　him。　The　silence　of　the　medical　lab　was　broken　by　the　whistled　strains　of　〃The　Sprig　of　Shillelagh。〃
　More　quickly　now；　Brambell；　whistling　merrily；　finished　laying　out　the　skeleton。　He　examined　the　effects：　buttons；　bits　of　clothing；　an　old　boot。　Of　course　there　was　only　one　boot；　the　daft　beggars　had　missed　the　other。　Along　with　the　right　clavicle；　a　piece　of　the　ilium；　the　left　radius；　carpals　and　intercarpals。。。　He　made　a　mental　list　of　the　missing　bones。　At　least　the　skull　was　there；　if　in　several　pieces。
　He　bent　closer。　It；　too；　was　webbed　with　perimortem　fractures。　The　rim　of　the　orbit　was　heavy；　the　mandible　robust；　definitely　a　male。　From　the　state　of　the　sutural　closing　he　would　be　about　thirty…five；　maybe　forty。　A　small　man；　no　more　than　five　foot　seven；　but　powerfully　built；　with　well…developed　muscle　attachments。　Years　of　fieldwork；　no　doubt。　This　fit　the　profile　of　the　planetary　geologist　Nestor　Masangkay　that　Glinn　had　given　him。
　Many　of　the　teeth　were　snapped　off　at　the　root。　It　looked　like　the　poor　man　had　convulsed　so　hard　in　his　death　throes　that　he　had　broken　all　his　teeth；　and　even　split　his　jaw。
　Still　whistling；　Brambell　turned　his　attention　to　the　postcranial　skeleton。　Virtually　every　bone　that　could　be　broken　was　broken。　He　wondered　what　could　have　caused　such　massive　trauma。　It　was　apparently　a　blow　to　the　front；　striking　simultaneously　from　toe　to　crown。　He　was　reminded　of　a　poor　skydiver　he　had　autopsied　in　medical　school；　the　man　had　packed　his　chute　wrong　and　fallen　three　thousand　feet　onto　the　middle　of　I…95。
　Brambell　caught　his　breath；　〃The　Sprig　of　Shillelagh〃　suddenly　dying　on　his　lips。　He　had　been　so　caught　up　by　the　fracturing　of　the　bones　that　he　had　not　stopped　to　examine　their　other　characteristics。　But　now；　as　he　did　so；　he　could　see　that　the　proximal　phalanges　showed　flaking　and　crumbling　characteristic　of　high　heat　…　or　severe　burning。　Almost　all　of　the　distal　phalanges　were　missing；　probably　pletely　burned　up。　Toes　and　fingers。　He　bent　closer。　The　broken　teeth　were　scorched；　the　brittle　enamel　spalling　off。
　His　eyes　made　a　circuit　of　the　remains。　The　parietal　showed　heavy　burn　damage；　the　bone　soft　and　crumbling。　He　bent　down；　sniffed。　Ah；　yes：　he　could　even　smell　it。　And　what　was　this？　Brambell　picked　up　a　belt　buckle。　The　bloody　thing　was　melted。　And　the　single　boot　wasn't　just　rotten　…　it　too　had　burned。　The　bits　of　cloth　were　also　scorched。　That　devil；　Glinn；　hadn't　mentioned　a　word　of　this；　although　he　surely　must　have　noticed。
　Then　Brambell　rocked　back　on　his　feet。　It　was　with　a　twinge　of　regret　that　he　realized　there　was　no　mystery　here；　after　all。　He　now　knew　exactly　how　the　prospector　had　died。
　In　the　dim　light　of　the　medical　spaces；　〃The　Sprig　of　Shillelagh〃　started　up　once　again；　the　merry　tune　now　sounding　a　little　mournful；　as　Brambell　carefully　closed　up　the　evidence　locker　and　returned　to　his　bunk。
　
　Isla　Desolacion；
　10：00　A。M。
　
　MCFARLANE　STOOD　at　the　frosted　window　of　the　munications　center；　melting　a　hole　with　his　hand。　Clouds　hung　heavy　over　the　Jaws　of　Hanuxa；　casting　a　pall　of　darkness　over　the　Cape　Horn　islands。　Behind　him；　Rochefort；　more　tense　than　usual；　was　typing　at　a　Silicon　Graphics　workstation。
　The　last　half　hour　had　seen　a　frenzy　of　activity。　The　corrugated…metal　shack　that　shielded　the　meteorite　from　view　had　been　moved　to　one　side；　and　the　area　above　the　rock　had　been　freshly　bladed　down　to　dirt；　a　dark　brown　scar　on　the　white　fairyland　of　snow。　A　small　army　of　workers　swarmed　about；　each　at　some　obscure　task。　The　radio　traffic　had　been　a　perfect　Babel　of　technical　inprehension。
　Outside；　a　deep…throated　whistle　blew。　McFarlane　felt　his　pulse　quicken。
　The　door　to　the　hut　banged　open　and　Amira　entered；　a　wide　smile　on　her　face。　ing　in　behind；　Glinn　closed　the　door　carefully；　then　went　to　stand　behind　Rochefort。　〃Lift　sequence　ready？〃　he　asked。
　〃Check。〃
　Glinn　lifted　a　radio　and　spoke　into　it。　〃Mr。　Garza？　Five　minutes　to　lift。　Please　monitor　this　frequency。〃　He　dropped　the　radio　and　glanced　at　Amira；　who　had　taken　a　seat　at　a　nearby　console　and　was　fitting　an　earphone。　〃Servos？〃
　〃On　line；〃　she　replied。
　〃So　what　will　we　see？〃　McFarlane　asked。　Already；　he　could　anticipate　Lloyd's　barrage　of　questions　during　the　next　videoconference。
　〃Nothing；〃　said　Glinn。　〃We're　only　raising　it　six　centimeters。　There　might　be　a　little　crackling　of　the　earth　above。〃　He　nodded　to　Rochefort。　〃Bring　the　jacks　up　to　sixty　tons　each。〃
　Rochefort's　hands　moved　across　the　keyboard。　〃Jacks　are　uniformly　engaging。　No　slippage。〃
　There　was　a　faint；　subaudible　vibration　in　the　ground。　Glinn　and　Rochefort　bent　close　to　the　screen；　examining　the　data　that　scrolled　past。　They　seemed　perfectly　calm　and　unconcerned。　Typing；　waiting；　typing　some　more。　It　seemed　so　routine。　Not　exactly　the　kind　of　meteorite　hunting　McFarlane　was　used　to：　digging　in　some　sheikh's　backyard　by　moonlight；　heart　in　mouth；　muffling　every　bite　of　the　shovel。
　〃Bring　the　jacks　up　to　seventy；〃　said　Glinn。
　〃Done。〃
　There　was　a　long；　boring　wait。
　〃Damn；〃　Rochefort　muttered。　〃I'm　getting　no　movement。　Nothing。〃
　〃Bring　them　up　to　eighty。〃
　Rochefort　tapped　on　some　keys。　There　was　a　pause；　then　he　shook　his　head。
　〃Rachel？〃　Glinn　asked。
　〃Nothing　wrong　with　the　servos。〃
　There　was　another　silence；　longer　this　time。
　〃We　should　have　seen　movement　at　sixty…seven　tons　per　jack。〃　Glinn　waited　a　moment；　then　spoke　again。　〃Raise　it　to　one　hundred。〃
　Rochefort　tapped　the　keyboard。　McFarlane　glanced　at　the　two　faces　illuminated　in　the　gleam　of　Rochefort's　monitor。　Suddenly；　the　tension　in　the　hut　had　risen　dramatically。
　〃Nothing？〃　asked　Glinn；　something　like　concern　in　his　voice。
　〃It's　still　sitting　there。〃　Rochefort's　face　was　even　more　pinched　than　usual。
　Glinn　straightened　up。　He　slowly　walked　to　the　window；　his　fingers　squeaking　on　the　glass　as　he　cleared　a　hole　through　the　frost。
　Minutes　crawled　by　while　Rochefort　remained　glued　to　the　puter　and　Amira　monitored　the　servos。　Then　Glinn　turned。
　〃All　right。　Let's　lower　the　jacks；　examine　the　settings；　and　try　again。〃
　Suddenly　a　strange　keening　seemed　to　fill　the　room；　ing　from　everywhere　and　nowhere　at　once。　It　was　almost　ghostly。　McFarlane　felt　his　skin　crawl。
　Rochefort　was　suddenly　intent　on　the　monitor。　〃Slumping　in　sector　six；〃　he　said；　his　fingers　flying　over　the　keyboard。
　The　sound　subsided。
　〃What　the　hell　was　that？〃　McFarlane　asked。
　Glinn　shook　his　head。　〃It　looks　like　we　might　have　lifted　the　meteorite　just　a　millimeter　in　sector　six；　but　then　it　subsided　and　pushed　the　jacks　back。〃
　〃Getting　another　shift；〃　Rochefort　said　suddenly；　a　note　of　alarm　in　his　voice。
　Glinn　strode　over　and　peered　at　the　screen。　〃It's　asymmetrical。　Lower　the　jacks　to　ninety；　quickly。〃
　A　patter　of　keystrokes；　and　Glinn　stepped　back；　frowning。　〃What's　with　sector　six？〃
　〃The　jacks　seemed　to　have　locked　at　a　hundred　tons；〃　Rochefort　said。　〃They　won't　go　down。〃
　〃Your　analysis？〃
　〃The　rock　may　be　settling　toward　that　sector。　If　so；　a　lot　of　weight　has　just　shifted　onto　them。〃
　〃Zero　out　all　the　jacks。〃
　To　McFarlane；　the　scene　seemed　almost　surreal。　There　was　no　sound；　no　dramatic　subterranean　rumbling；　just　a　group　of　tense　people　gathered　around　flickering　monitors。
　Rochefort　stopped　typing。　〃All　of　sector　six　has　locked　up。　The　jacks　must　have　frozen　under　the　weight。〃
　〃Can　we　zero　the　rest？〃
　〃If　I　do　that；　the　meteorite　might　destabilize。〃
　〃Destabilize；〃　McFarlane　repeated。　〃You　mean；　as　in　tilt？〃
　Glinn's　eyes　glided　toward　him；　then　returned　to　the　puter　screen。　〃Suggestions；　Mr。　Rochefort？〃　he　asked　coolly。
　The　engineer　leaned　back；　licked　the　tip　of　his　left　index　finger；　and　placed　it　against　his　right　thumb。　〃Here's　what　I　think。　We　leave　the　jacks　as　is。　Keep　them　in　position。　Then　we　release　the　fluid　from　the　emergency　hydraulic　valves　on　the　sector　six　jacks。　Unfreeze　them。〃
　〃How？〃　Glinn　asked。
　After　a　moment；　Rochefort　replied；　〃Manually。〃
　Glinn　held　up　his　radio。　〃Garza？〃
　〃Roger。〃
　〃You　follow　this？〃
　〃Roger　that。〃
　〃Your　opinion？〃
　〃I　agree　with　Gene。　We　must've　seriously　underestimated　the　weight　of　this　baby。〃
　Glinn　swiveled　his　gray　eyes　back　to　Rochefort。　〃And　who　do　you　suggest　should　drain　the　jacks？〃
　〃I　wouldn't　ask　anyone　to　do　it　but　myself。　Then　we'll　let　the　meteorite　settle　back　down　to　a　stable　resting　place；　set　additional　jacks；　and　try　again。〃
　〃You're　going　to　need　a　second　person；〃　came　Garza's　voice　over　the　radio。　〃That　would　be　me。〃
　〃I'm　not　going　to　send　both　my　chief　engineer　and　my　construction　manager　underneath　that　rock；〃　said　Glinn。　〃Mr。　Rochefort；　analyze　the　risk。〃
　Rochefort　did　some　calculations　on　a　pocket　calculator。　〃The　jacks　are　rated　to　stand　maximum　pressure　for　sixteen　hours。〃
　〃What　about　higher…than…maximum？　Assume　one　hundred　percent　above　maximum。〃
　〃The　time…failure　rate　gets　shorter。〃　Rochefort　made　another　series　of　calculations。　〃However；　the　chance　of　failure　in　the　next　thirty　minutes　is　less　than　one　percent。〃
　〃That's　acceptable；〃　said　Glinn。　〃Mr。　Rochefort；　take　a　crew　member　of　your　choice　along。〃　He　glanced　at　his　pocket　watch。　〃You　have　thirty　minutes　from　this　moment；　not　one　second　more。　Good　luck。〃
　Rochefort　stood　up　and　looked　at　them；　his　face　pale。　〃Remember；　sir；　we　don't　believe　in　luck；〃　he　said。　〃But　thank　you　all　the　same。〃
　
　Isla　Desolacion；
　10：24　A。M。
　
　ROCHEFORT　OPENED　the　door　to　the　decrepit　hut　and　moved　the　nail　kegs　aside；　exposing　the　access　tube　and　its　halo　of　bright　fluorescent　light。　He　gripped　the　rungs　of　the　ladder　and　began　to　descend；　palmtop　puter　and　radio　jiggling　on　his　belt。　Evans　followed　behind；　humming　an　off…key　variant　of　〃Muskrat　Ramble。〃
　The　main　emotion　Rochefort　felt　was　embarrassment。　Brief　as　it　was；　the　walk　from　the　munications　hut　had　taken　an　eternity。　Although　the　staging　area　was　deserted；　he　had　nevertheless　sensed　dozens　of　eyes　trained　directly　…　and　no　doubt　reproachfully　…　on　his　back。
　He　had　set　fifty　percent　more　jacks　than　deemed　necessary。　It　was　within　EES　operating　guidelines；　and　it　had　seemed　like　a　safe　margin。　But　he　had　miscalculated。　He　should　have　invoked　double　overage；　set　two　hundred　jacks。　But　the　time　pressure　had　always　been　there；　hovering　over　everything；　flowing　from　Lloyd　to　Glinn　and　infecting　everything　they　did。　So　Rochefort　had　suggested　a　hundred　and　fifty；　and　Glinn　had　not　questioned　his　decision。　The　fact　was；　nobody　had　said　anything　to　him　about　the　mistake　…　or　even　hinted　one　was　made。　But　that　did　not　negate　the　fact　that　he　had　been　wrong。　And　Rochefort　could　not　bear　to　be　wrong。　He　felt　saturated　by　bitterness。　Reaching　the　bottom；　he　moved　quickly　along　the　tunnel；　ducking　his　head　instinctively　below　the　lines　of　fluorescent　lights。　Chains　of　ice　crystals；　formed　from　the　condensed　breath　of　the　workers；　stuck　like　feathers　to　the　spars　and　trusses。　Evans；　ing　up　behind；　dragged　a　finger　through　them　as　he　whistled。
　Rochefort　was　humiliated；　not　worried。　He　knew　that　even　if　the　jacks　in　sector　six　failed　…　a　minuscule　possibilit