J.B. looked down on the starboard side, seeing the depth-charge launcher below. The approaching Inuit were about two hundred yards away. “Mebbe I can do something about them.” He crossed to the starboard side and clambered down.
Ryan provided covering fire instinctively.
The Armorer hoped the frigate’s fire controls were still on. He checked over the depth-charge launcher and found the operations panel. He activated it, watching as the launcher shot the explosive drums over the side.
The barrels arched in the air, sailing fifty yards up and nearly that far out. They came crashing down against the ice, throwing up chips and snow in a crystalline haze on impact.
They didn’t explode.
The ranks of the Inuit from the second tribe pulled back at first, afraid of getting hit by the barrels even if they didn’t recognize what they were.
J.B. pulled up the Uzi and slipped in a fresh magazine. He stood beside the depth-charge launcher as it continued to cycle through its twenty-five-drum supply. Then he opened up with the subgun, targeting the depth charges.
He had no idea what the preset depths were on the drums, but they exploded just fine when they were hit with the bullets. He even caught some of them in the air, sending flames and debris shooting in all directions. Shrapnel dug into the ice and shattered against the steel hide of the frigate.
Then he climbed back up to rejoin Ryan.
The one-eyed man sighted through the Steyr’s telescopic lens and set off some of the other barrels that J.B. hadn’t hit.
“Time to leave,” Ryan growled.
BELOW, KRYSTY REACHED the lifeboat’s release switches as a fresh shudder ran through the Russian frigate. The big boat came down, slamming hard against the packed ice. With the deck tilted, the lifeboat didn’t touch the ship at all.
“Get the boat,” Krysty told Harlan.
The Inuit chief yelled at some of his warriors, motioning them over. They got behind the boat and managed to push it quite easily across the frozen surface. The rounded keel was a natural runner across the ice.
Mildred stood nearby, her ZKR 551 pistol in her hands, blasting methodically at any Russians that became available.
Krysty scanned the ship, tense with worry, wondering where Ryan was. She went forward, climbing onto the ship. She felt it shivering, sinking, but couldn’t just stand by and watch it.
Then she felt hands close around her waist from behind. At first she thought it might be Ryan. But when she turned, the lean face definitely wasn’t that of her lover.
The man raised a pistol into her throat. “You will please refrain from screaming,” he said.
In the confusion swirling around the lifeboat below, she knew no one saw the man take her.
“ICEBERG’S SINKING, TOO,” J.B. said. “Explosions and the weight of the ship are too much for it.” The dull, roaring echoes of the depth charges continued to roll across the icescape.
Ryan looked down at the black water swirling up out of the dark fissure as they climbed down on the port side of the frigate. “If the whole iceberg goes, we lose the mat-trans unit and possibly our way back to Deathlands.”
“Can’t be helped,” the Armorer said pragmatically. “It’ll be there, or it won’t.”
“Ryan, J.B.”
Ryan turned, spotting Jak farther up the crooked deck.
“Found another boat. But need help.”
“What kind of boat?” Ryan asked.
“Has motor,” Jak said. “Mebbe faster than lifeboats.”
Ryan and J.B. followed the albino.
“Ryan!”
The one-eyed man glanced down over the side of the ship, spotting Albert. “What?”
“Krysty’s missing. One of Harlan’s people said she got taken back into the ship. There.” The dwarf pointed toward one of the open doors ahead of Ryan.
“Get her,” J.B. said. “Me and Jak will see to the boat.”
Ryan unlimbered the SIG-Sauer and entered the door. The corridor ran straight and narrow before him. The creak of tortured metal was loud. The frigate shivered again. He plunged around the corner, looking for Krysty. The lights in the vessel were starting to fail as the power centers went out. The frigate was dying.
“Krysty!” he yelled.
“Here, lover,” she said in a strained voice.