Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [120]
Despite herself, Kirsty smiled. Schofield smiled, too.
And then, to his surprise, Kirsty stepped forward and hugged him. Schofield returned her hug.
As he held her, though, he heard a strange noise. A noise that he had not heard before.
It was a loud, rhythmic, crashing noise.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
It sounded to Schofield like –
Like waves crashing on a beach.
With a sickening rush, Schofield realised where they were. They were near the cliffs. Their evasive manoeuvres during the hovercraft chase had taken them out near the sheer, three-hundred-foot cliffs that towered over the bay. The loud, booming noise that he was hearing was the sound of the mountainous waves of the ocean smashing against the ice cliffs.
Schofield was still holding Kirsty in his arms. As he held her, though, something behind her caught his eye.
Attached to the side of the British hovercraft’s dashboard was a small compartment, mounted on the wall. Its door hung ajar. Inside the compartment, Schofield could see two silver canisters. They were each about a foot long, and cylindrical in shape. Each silver canister had a wide green band painted across its mid-section. Schofield saw some lettering stencilled onto the side of one of the silver canisters:
TRITONAL 80/20.
Tritonal 80/20? Schofield thought. Why on earth would the British bring that to Wilkes?
Tritonal 80/20 was a highly concentrated explosive poxy – a highly combustible liquid filler that was used in air-launched drop bombs. Tritonal wasn’t nuclear, but when it blew, it blew big and it blew hot. One kilogram of the stuff – the amount contained in each of the canisters Schofield was now looking at – could level a small building.
Schofield released Kirsty gently, put his glasses back on and moved toward the compartment near the dashboard. He pulled one of the silver-and-green canisters from it.
He came back to Kirsty. ‘Are you all right, now?’
‘Yeah,’ Kirsty said.
‘Good,’ Schofield said, sliding the Tritonal charge into one of his long thigh pockets. ‘Because I really have to get back to –’
Schofield never saw it coming.
The impact threw him off his feet.
His whole hovercraft lurched suddenly to the left.
Schofield looked out through the gaping hole in the right-hand side of his speeding hovercraft and saw one of the two remaining British hovercrafts racing across the ice plain right alongside him!
It rammed them again.
Hard.
So hard, in fact, that Schofield felt his hovercraft slide sideways, to the left.
‘What the –’ Schofield said aloud.
He looked left and in a sudden terrifying instant he realised what they were doing.
‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘Oh, no . . .’
The British hovercraft rammed them again, and once again Schofield and Kirsty’s hovercraft was pushed to the left.
Schofield looked out through his destroyed forward windshield and saw the flat ice plain stretching endlessly away from him. But off to the left, he saw that the flat ice plain ended abruptly. In fact, it looked as if it just fell away . . .
The cliffs.
With every impact, the British hovercraft was pushing Schofield and Kirsty closer to the edge.
They were trying to ram them off the cliff.
Schofield began to wrestle with the steering vane of his hovercraft, but it was no use.
There was nowhere he could go.
With no room to move – no room to get a run-up – he just found himself shunting the speeding British hovercraft ineffectually.
Schofield snapped to look forward again, and he saw the cliff edge racing by less than ten yards off to his left. He caught a glimpse of tiny white-crested waves beyond the cliff edge. They were a long way down.
Jesus. . .
Suddenly another impact hit them and Schofield’s hovercraft jolted further to the left, slid closer to the cliff edge.
The edge was barely eight yards away.
A few more hits, Schofield thought, and that would be it.
Schofield instinctively reached for his helmet mike to call for help. But it wasn’t there. It had been attached to his helmet