p&c.icelimit-第22章

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　But　I　didn't　like　rubbing　elbows　at　faculty　sherry　hour；　or　going　to　conferences　and　chatting　with　rock　jocks　about　collisional　ejection　and　cratering　mechanics。　I　guess　the　feeling　was　mutual。　Anyway；　my　academic　career　lasted　all　of　five　years。　Got　denied　tenure。　I've　been　on　my　own　ever　since。〃
　He　held　his　breath；　thinking　of　his　ex…partner；　realizing　this　was　a　poor　choice　of　words。　But　the　captain　did　not　pursue　it；　and　the　moment　passed。
　〃All　I　know　about　meteorites　is　that　they're　rocks　that　fall　out　of　the　sky；〃　Britton　said。　〃Where　do　they　e　from？　Other　than　Mars；　of　course。〃
　〃Martian　meteorites　are　extremely　rare。　Most　of　them　are　chunks　of　rock　from　the　inner　asteroid　belt。　Small　bits　and　pieces　from　planets　that　broke　up　soon　after　the　formation　of　the　solar　system。〃
　〃The　thing　you're　after　isn't　exactly　small。〃
　〃Well；　most　of　them　are　small。　But　it　doesn't　take　a　whole　lot　to　make　a　big　impact。　The　Tunguska　meteorite；　which　hit　Siberia　in　1908；　had　an　impact　energy　equal　to　a　ten…megaton　hydrogen　bomb。〃
　〃Ten　megatons？〃
　〃And　that's　small　potatoes。　Some　meteoroids　hit　the　earth　with　a　kinetic　energy　greater　than　one　hundred　million　megatons。　That's　the　kind　of　blast　that　tends　to　end　an　entire　geologic　age；　kill　off　the　dinosaurs；　and　generally　ruin　everybody's　day。〃
　〃Jesus。〃　Britton　shook　her　head。
　He　laughed　dryly。　〃Don't　worry。　They're　pretty　rare。　One　every　hundred　million　years。〃
　They　had　worked　their　way　through　another　maze　of　corridors。　McFarlane　felt　hopelessly　lost。
　〃Are　all　meteorites　the　same？〃
　〃No；　no。　But　most　of　the　ones　that　hit　the　earth　are　ordinary　chondrites。　〃
　〃Chondrites？〃
　〃Basically；　old　gray　stones。　Pretty　boring。〃　McFarlane　hesitated。　〃There　are　the　nickel…iron　types　…　probably　like　the　one　we're　snagging。　But　the　most　interesting　type　is　called　CI　chondrites。〃　He　stopped。
　Britton　glanced　over　at　him。
　〃It's　hard　to　explain。　It　might　be　boring　for　you。〃　McFarlane　remembered；　more　than　once；　putting　a　glaze　over　everyone's　eyes　at　a　dinner　party　in　his　younger；　enthusiastic；　innocent　years。
　〃I'm　the　one　that　studied　celestial　navigation。　Try　me。〃　〃Well；　CI　chondrites　are　clumped　directly　out　of　the　pure；　unadulterated　dust　cloud　the　solar　system　formed　from。　Which　makes　them　very　interesting。　They　contain　clues　to　how　the　solar　system　formed。　They're　also　very　old。　Older　than　the　Earth。〃
　〃And　how　old　is　that？〃
　〃Four　and　a　half　billion　years。〃　He　noticed　a　genuine　interest　shining　in　her　eyes。
　〃Amazing。〃
　〃And　it's　been　theorized　that　there's　a　type　of　meteorite　even　more　incredible　…　〃
　McFarlane　fell　silent　abruptly；　checking　himself。　He　did　not　want　the　old　obsession　to　return；　not　now。　He　walked　on　in　the　sudden　stillness；　aware　of　Britton's　curious　gaze。
　The　corridor　ended　in　a　dogged　hatch。　Undogging　the　cleats；　Britton　pulled　it　open。　A　wall　of　sound　flew　out　at　them：　the　huge　roar　of　endless　horsepower。　McFarlane　followed　the　captain　out　onto　a　narrow　catwalk。　About　fifty　feet　below；　he　could　see　two　enormous　turbines　roaring　in　tandem。　The　huge　space　seemed　pletely　deserted；　apparently　it；　too；　was　run　by　puter。　He　gripped　a　metal　pole　for　support；　and　it　vibrated　wildly　in　his　hand。
　Britton　looked　at　him　with　a　small　smile　as　they　continued　along　the　catwalk。　〃The　Rolvaag　is　driven　by　steam　boilers；　not　diesel　motors　like　other　ships；〃　she　said；　raising　her　voice　over　the　roar。　〃We　do　have　an　emergency　diesel　for　electricity；　though。　On　a　modern　ship　like　this；　you　can't　afford　to　lose　power。　Because　if　you　do；　you've　got　nothing：　no　puters；　no　navigation；　no　fire…fighting　equipment。　You're　a　drifting　hulk。　We　call　it　DIW：　dead　in　the　water。〃
　They　passed　through　another　heavy　door　at　the　forward　end　of　the　engine　space。　Britton　dogged　it　shut；　then　led　the　way　down　a　hallway　that　ended　at　a　closed　elevator　door。　McFarlane　followed；　grateful　for　the　quiet。
　The　captain　stopped　at　the　elevator；　looking　back　at　him　calculatingly。　Suddenly；　he　realized　she　had　more　on　her　mind　than　a　tour　of　the　jolly　old　Rolvaag。
　〃Mr。　Glinn　gave　a　good　talk；〃　Britton　said　at　last。
　〃I'm　glad　you　think　so。〃
　〃Crews　can　be　a　superstitious　lot；　you　know。　It's　amazing　how　fast　rumor　and　speculation　can　turn　into　fact　belowdecks。　I　think　that　talk　went　a　long　way　toward　squelching　any　rumors。〃　There　was　another　brief　pause。　Then　she　spoke　again。
　〃I　have　the　feeling　Mr。　Glinn　knows　a　lot　more　than　he　said。　Actually；　no　…　that　isn't　the　right　way　to　put　it。　I　think　maybe　he　knows　less　than　he　let　on。〃　She　glanced　sidelong　at　McFarlane。　〃Isn't　that　right？〃
　McFarlane　hesitated。　He　didn't　know　what　Lloyd　or　Glinn　had　told　the　captain　…　or；　more　to　the　point；　what　they　had　withheld。　Nevertheless；　he　felt　that　the　more　she　knew；　the　better　off　the　ship　would　be。　He　felt　a　sense　of　kinship　with　her。　They'd　both　made　big　mistakes。　They'd　both　been　dragged　behind　the　motorcycle　of　life　a　little　longer　than　the　average　Joe。　In　his　gut；　he　trusted　Sally　Britton。
　〃You're　right；〃　he　said。　〃The　truth　is；　we　know　almost　nothing　about　it。　We　don't　know　how　something　so　large　could　have　survived　impact。　We　don't　know　why　it　hasn't　rusted　away。　What　little　electromagnetic　and　gravitational　data　we　have　about　the　rock　seem　contradictory；　even　impossible。〃
　〃I　see；〃　said　Britton。　She　looked　into　McFarlane's　eyes。　〃Is　it　dangerous？〃
　〃There　is　no　reason　to　think　so。〃　He　hesitated。　〃No　reason　to　think　not；　either。〃
　There　was　a　pause。
　〃What　I　mean　is；　will　it　pose　a　hazard　to　my　ship　or　my　crew？〃
　McFarlane　chewed　his　lip；　wondering　how　to　answer。　〃A　hazard？　It's　heavy　as　hell。　It'll　be　tricky　to　maneuver。　But　once　it's　safely　secured　in　its　cradle；　I　have　to　believe　it'll　be　less　dangerous　than　a　hold　full　of　inflammable　oil。〃　He　looked　at　her。　〃And　Glinn　seems　to　be　a　man　who　never　takes　chances。〃
　For　a　moment；　Britton　thought　about　this。　Then　she　nodded。　〃That　was　my　take　on　him；　too：　cautious　to　a　fault。〃　She　pressed　the　button　for　the　elevator。　〃That's　the　kind　of　person　I　like　on　board。　Because　the　next　time　I　end　up　on　a　reef；　I'm　going　down　with　the　ship。〃
　
　Rolvaag；
　July　3；　2：15　P。M。
　
　AS　THE　good　ship　Rolvaag　crossed　the　equator；　with　the　coast　of　Brazil　and　the　mouth　of　the　Amazon　far　to　the　west；　a　time…honored　ritual　began　on　the　ship's　bow；　as　it　had　on　oceangoing　vessels　for　hundreds　of　years。
　Thirty　feet　below　deck　and　almost　nine　hundred　feet　aft；　Dr。　Patrick　Brambell　was　unpacking　his　last　box　of　books。　For　almost　every　year　of　his　working　life　he　had　crossed　the　line　at　least　once；　and　he　found　the　conitant　ceremonies　…　the　〃Neptune's　tea〃　made　from　boiled　socks；　the　gauntlet　of　fish…wielding　deckhands；　the　vulgar　laughter　of　the　shellbacks　…　distasteful　in　the　extreme。
　He　had　been　unpacking　and　arranging　his　extensive　library　ever　since　the　Rolvaag　left　port。　It　was　a　task　he　enjoyed　almost　as　much　as　reading　the　books　themselves；　and　he　never　allowed　himself　to　hurry。　Now　he　ran　a　scalpel　along　the　final　seam　of　packing　tape；　pulled　back　the　cardboard　flaps；　and　looked　inside。　With　loving　fingers；　he　removed　the　topmost　book；　Burton's　Anatomy　of　Melancholy；　and　caressed　its　fine　half…leather　cover　before　placing　it　on　the　last　free　shelf　in　his　cabin。　Orlando　Furioso　came　next；　then　Huysmans's　A　rebours；　Coleridge's　lectures　on　Shakespeare；　Dr。　Johnson's　Rambler　essays；　Newman's　Apologia　pro　Vita　Sua。　None　of　the　books　was　about　medicine；　in　fact；　of　the　thousand…odd　eclectic　books　in　Brambell's　traveling　library；　only　a　dozen　or　so　could　be　considered　professional　references　…　and　those　he　segregated　in　his　medical　suite；　to　remove　the　vocational　stain　from　his　cherished　library。　For　Dr。　Brambell　was　first　a　reader；　and　second　a　doctor。
　The　box　empty　at　last；　Brambell　sighed　in　mingled　satisfaction　and　regret　and　stepped　back　to　survey　the　ranks　of　books　standing　in　neat　rows　on　every　surface　and　shelf。　As　he　did　so；　there　was　the　clatter　of　a　distant　door；　followed　by　the　measured　cadence　of　footsteps。　Brambell　waited　motionless；　listening；　hoping　it　was　not　for　him　but　knowing　it　was。　The　footsteps　stopped；　and　a　brief　double　rap　came　from　the　direction　of　the　waiting　room。
　Brambell　sig