"The Ice Limit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Preston Douglas)

"Of course, we're not doing much to the interior," Glinn said as they started along the catwalk again. "The quarters are quite luxurious — large staterooms, wood paneling, computer-controlled lighting, lounges, exercise rooms, and so forth."
Lloyd stopped once again as he noticed activity around a hole cut into the forward hull. A line of bulldozers, D-cats, front-end loaders, skidders with house-size tires, and other heavy mining equipment snaked away from the hole, a heavyweight traffic jam, waiting to be loaded onto the ship. There was a roar of diesel engines and the grinding of gears as, one by one, the equipment drove in and disappeared from view.
"An industrial-age Noah's ark," said Lloyd.
"It was cheaper and faster to make our own door than to position all the heavy equipment with a crane," Glinn said. "The Rolvaag is designed like a typical tanker. The cargo-oil spaces occupy three quarters of the hull. The rest is taken up with general holds, compartments, machinery spaces, and the like. We've built special bays to hold the equipment and raw material we'll need for the job. We've already loaded a thousand tons of the best Mannsheim high-tensile steel, a quarter million board feet of laminated timbers, and everything from aircraft tires to generators."
Lloyd pointed. "And those boxcars on the deck?"
"They're designed to look like the Rolvaag is making some extra bucks on the side piggybacking containers. Inside are some very sophisticated labs."
"Tell me about them."
"The gray one closest to the bow is a hydro lab. Next to it is a clean room. And then we have a high-speed CAD workstation, a darkroom, tech stores, a scientific freezer, electron microscope and X-ray crystallography labs, a diver's locker, and an isotope and radiation chamber. Belowdecks are medical and surgical spaces, a biohazard lab, and two machine shops. No windows for any of them, I'm afraid; that would give the game away."
Lloyd shook his head. "I'm beginning to see where all my money is going. Don't forget, Eli, what I'm buying is basically a recovery operation. The science can wait."
"I haven't forgotten. But given the high degree of unknowns, and the fact that we'll only get one chance at this recovery, we must be prepared for anything."
"Of course. That's why I'm sending Sam McFarlane. But as long as things go according to plan, his expertise is for use with the engineering problem. I don't want a lot of timewasting scientific tests. Just get the thing the hell out of Chile. We'll have all the time in the world to fuss with it later."
"Sam McFarlane," Glinn repeated. "An interesting choice. Curious fellow."
Lloyd looked at him. "Now don't you start telling me I made a mistake."
"I didn't say that. I merely express surprise at your choice of planetary geologists."
"He's the best guy for the job. I don't want a crowd of wimpy scientists down there. Sam's worked both the lab and the field. He can do it all. He's tough. He knows Chile. The guy who found the thing was his ex-partner, for chrissakes, and his analysis of the data was brilliant." He leaned confidentially toward Glinn. "So he made an error of judgment a couple of years back. And, yes, it wasn't a small one. Does that mean nobody should trust him for the rest of his life? Besides" — and here he placed a hand on Glinn's shoulder-"you'll be there to keep an eye on him. Just in case temptation comes his way." He released his hold and turned back to the ship. "And speaking of temptation, where exactly will the meteorite go?"
"Follow me," Glinn said. "I'll show you."
They climbed another set of stairs and continued along a high catwalk that bridged the ship's beam. Here, a lone figure stood at the rail: silent, erect, dressed in a captain's outfit, looking every inch the ship's officer. As they approached, the figure detached itself from the railing and waited. "Captain Britton," said Glinn, "Mr. Lloyd."
Lloyd extended his hand, then froze. "A woman?" he blurted involuntarily.
Without a pause, she grasped his hand. "Very observant, Mr. Lloyd." She gave his hand a firm, short shake. "Sally Britton."
"Of course," said Lloyd. "I just didn't expect — -" Why hadn't Glinn warned him? His eyes lingered on the trim form, the wisp of blond hair escaping from beneath her cap.
"Glad you could meet us," said Glinn. "I wanted you to see the ship before it was completely disguised."
"Thank you, Mr. Glinn," she said, the faint smile holding. "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so repulsive in my life."
"It's purely cosmetic."
"I intend to spend the next several days making sure of that." She pointed toward some large projections from the side of the superstructure. "What's behind those forward bulkheads?"
"Additional security equipment," Glinn said. "We've taken every possible safety precaution, and then some."
"Interesting."
Lloyd gazed at her profile curiously. "Eli here has said nothing about you," he said. "Can you fill me in on your background?"
"I was a ship's officer for five years, and a captain for three."
Lloyd caught the past tense. "What kind of ships?"
"Tankers and VLCCs."
"I'm sorry?"
"Very Large Crude Carriers. Over two hundred and fifty thousand tons displacement. Tankers on steroids, basically."
"She's gone around the Horn on several occasions," said Glinn.
"Around the Horn? I didn't know that route was still used."
"The big VLCCs can't go through the Panama Canal," said Britton. "The preferred route is around the Cape of Good Hope, but occasionally schedules require a Horn passage."
"That's one reason we hired her," said Glinn. "The seas down there can be tricky."
Lloyd nodded, still gazing at Britton. She returned the look calmly, unruffled by the pandemonium taking place below her. "You know about our unusual cargo?" he asked.
She nodded.
"And you have no problem with it?"
She looked at him. "I have no problem with it."
Something in those clear green eyes told Lloyd a different story. He opened his mouth to speak, but Glinn interrupted smoothly. "Come on," he said. "I'll show you the cradle."
He motioned them farther down the catwalk. Here the ship's deck lay directly below, wreathed in clouds of welding smoke and diesel exhaust. Deckplates had been removed, exposing a vast hole in the ship. Manuel Garza, chief engineer for EES, stood at its edge, holding a radio to his ear with one hand and gesturing with the other. Catching sight of them overhead, he waved.
Peering down into the exposed space, Lloyd could make out an amazingly complex structure, with the elegance of a crystal lattice. Strings of yellow sodium lights along its edges made the dark hold sparkle and glow like a deep, enchanted grotto.
"That's the hold?" Lloyd asked.
"Tank, not hold. Number three center tank, to be precise. We'll be placing the meteorite at the very center of the ship's keel, to maximize stability. And we've added a passageway beneath the maindeck, running from the superstructure forward, to aid access. Note the mechanical doors we've installed on each side of the tank opening."
The cradle was a long way down. Lloyd squinted against the glow of the countless lights.
"I'll be damned," he said suddenly. "Half of it's made of wood!" He turned to Glinn. "Cutting corners already?"
The corners of Glinn's mouth jerked upward in a brief smile. "Wood, Mr. Lloyd, is the ultimate engineering material."
Lloyd shook his head. "Wood? For a ten-thousand-ton weight? I can't believe it."
"Wood is ideal. It gives ever so slightly, but never deforms. It tends to bite into heavy objects, locking them in place. The type of oak we're using, greenheart laminated with epoxy, has a higher shear strength than steel. And wood can be carved and shaped to fit the curves of the hull. It won't wear through the steel hull in a heavy sea, and it doesn't suffer metal fatigue."