Beyond the Ice Limit

63

EYVEN VINTER LEANED back in a chair in a small annex to the rec room. Standing beside him was the other security officer, Oakes, who had joined the mutiny at the same time he had. He felt exhausted by pain and was also suffering from a certain feeling of detachment that he knew must be shock from the gunshot wounds. Neither wound was fatal, at least not if eventually treated. But his injuries had rendered him useless. And their failure to take the bridge had temporarily demoralized the group.

But now the balance of power had shifted in their direction. “Get Masterson in here,” he told Oakes.

“Yes, sir.”

His job now was to put a little fire in the belly of Masterson. He saw that Masterson was key: he had a knack for recruiting people; he was at heart a good man; people trusted him. As second assistant engineer, he knew the intimate workings of the ship and could take the conn if necessary. Many had now flocked to their cause, and those who had not were paralyzed by the growing chaos and terror on board ship. Mission control had been neutralized. Even some of the security guards assigned to keep them bottled up on the crew deck had defected. The only remaining holdouts were the captain and the officers of the bridge, along with the cadre of top EES brass—Glinn and his group. They could literally walk to the bridge, maybe without firing a single shot. The catch was blowing the bridge doors, which had been designed to keep out terrorists and any others who might commandeer the ship.

Masterson came through the door. “How are you doing?” he asked.

Vinter could see that Masterson needed direction, encouragement. He grasped the man’s hand. “I’ll survive.” He hesitated, adding a little theater: “That is, if we can get the ship to Ushuaia.”

Masterson seemed to hesitate. “Those doors into the bridge—”

“Greg, I’ve got it all worked out. Oakes here managed to retrieve some C4 from the security armory. He knows how to blow those doors.” This wasn’t completely true, but Oakes had had some training in explosives in boot camp. “Blow the doors and then you all go in. You’ve got the numbers, you’ve got the momentum, and you’ve got the weapons.”

“I understand. But the bridge is now armed to the teeth.”

“If we don’t get this ship the hell out of here, we’re all dead. Fifty-eight hours to safety—keep that number in mind. Fifty-eight hours and this is over.”

Masterson nodded.

“You’re the leader. Everyone’s looking up to you. You started this, and thank God you did. Now get everyone together and finish it. Let me tell you my plan.” He leaned forward painfully. “Blitzkrieg is the way to go. And—this is important—to make sure the bridge is not damaged.”

He drew Masterson in still closer and began to explain how the mutiny was going to work.

Captain Tulley stood beside the helmsman. Like any good captain, he maintained a serene countenance, but inside he was seething. His ship was in chaos. Order had broken down. The worms were everywhere, at least in the lower spaces of the ship. The aborted mutiny had resulted in the death of both his chief officer and the officer of the watch, and the wounding of others; the blood was still on the floor of the bridge. The mutineers had managed to commandeer the ship’s intercom and were continuously recruiting, while all other communications had been jammed or shut down by saboteurs. There were reports of widespread vandalism. Security officers had defected to the mutineers. And many people appeared to be infected by the worms, although it was almost impossible to tell just who had been infected and who hadn’t.

Tulley was confident that the officers surrounding him were still clean; no worms had been spotted on the bridge. But, to be safe, he ordered all present to pair up and watch each other’s backs.

He glanced down at the orders he had received from Glinn, brought to him in a handwritten note by Manuel Garza. The mission was going forward: they were going to explode the nuke. The ship was to remain in place until the order was received to proceed full speed ahead on a true north heading, in order to escape the shock wave of the blast. Garza had brought with him two security officers to lead the defense should the bridge be attacked again. The two, Garza had explained, were all he could find; the rest were unreliable and possibly infected, had joined the mutiny—or both.

Tulley knew a second attempt was imminent. And even as that thought crossed his mind, a massive explosion rocked the bridge, knocking him to the deck.