Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [114]
Like a bizarre two-ton ballet dancer, Schofield’s hovercraft did a complete, lateral, one-hundred-and-eighty degree spin right in front of Book’s hovercraft and the two British hovercrafts.
In the cabin, Schofield quickly jammed the big vehicle into reverse and engaged the turbofan again.
Now he was travelling backwards!
At eighty miles per hour.
In front of Book and the two British hovercrafts!
Schofield thrust his MP-5 out through the driver’s side window and let rip with an extended burst of gunfire.
The front windshield of the left-hand British hovercraft exploded with bulletholes. Schofield could see the men behind the windshield convulse as they were hit by the barrage of gunfire.
The shot British hovercraft immediately peeled away from Book’s hovercraft and faded back into the distance.
Book was still in hell.
The British hovercraft to his left was gone now, but the one on his right was ramming him with renewed intensity.
The two hovercrafts careered across the flat expanse of ice, side-by-side, their engines roaring.
And then suddenly Book saw the side door of the British hovercraft open. A thick black gun barrel protruded from it.
‘Oh, shit,’ Book said.
A puff of smoke appeared from the end of the gun barrel – it was an M-60 grenade launcher – and a second later the whole side door of Book’s hovercraft suddenly exploded inwards.
Wind rushed into the cabin.
They’d blown open the side of his hovercraft!
At that moment, a small black object flew in through the hole in the side of the hovercraft and clattered across the floor of the cabin.
Book saw it immediately.
It was a small black cylindrical object with blue numbers written along its side. As it rolled across the floor of the cabin, it looked like an ordinary grenade, but as Book knew it was a whole lot more than that.
It was a nitrogen charge.
The signature weapon of the SAS.
The most advanced grenade in the world. It even had a tamper mechanism so that you couldn’t pick it up and throw it back at the person who threw it at you. Standard time delay: five seconds.
Get out of the hovercraft! Book’s mind screamed.
Book dived for the left-hand side of the cabin – the side furthest away from the British hovercraft – and reached for the door. He slid it open fast.
Five. . .
Freezing Antarctic wind rushed at his face. Slicing horizontal snow lashed his eyes. Book didn’t care. Snow wouldn’t kill him; and a fall from the hovercraft might. But the nitrogen charge definitely would.
Four . . . Three . . .
Book dived out into the freezing wind and immediately jammed the sliding door shut behind him. He lay flat against the top of the black rubber skirt that ran around the base of the speeding hovercraft. His face was pressed awkwardly up against the outside of the windows of the cabin. The screaming, speeding wind assaulted his ears.
Two . . . One . . .
Book prayed to God that the reinforced Lexan glass windows of the hovercraft could withstand the –
The nitrogen charge went off inside the hovercraft.
Smack!
A wave of ice-blue liquid nitrogen slapped hard against the glass right in front of Book’s face. Book instinctively jerked his head back.
He stared in amazement at the interior of the hovercraft’s cabin. Supercooled liquid nitrogen had splattered itself against every exposed surface inside the cabin.
Every exposed surface.
The whole of the inside of the window in front of him was dripping with gooey blue poxy. Book sighed with relief. The reinforced glass had held, just.
And then suddenly . . . craaaaack-!
Book pulled his head back just as the window – snap-frozen by the liquid nitrogen and contracting rapidly – broke out into a thousand spiderwebs.
‘Book!’
Book spun and saw Rebound’s hovercraft pull up alongside his own. He could see Rebound through the windscreen, sitting in the driver’s seat.
‘Get on!’
Rebound’s hovercraft nudged closer to Book’s. The side door of Rebound’s hovercraft slid open. The rubber skirts of the two hovercrafts touched briefly, then parted again.
‘Jump!’ Rebound said, his voice loud in Book’s earpiece.