Stranded by Bracken MacLeod Page A

made a sound. He continued. “The ice pack appears to be consolidated and thick. The short version is: we’re not going anywhere until we can free the ship.”
    â€œHow do you suggest we do that?” Theo asked.
    Brewster furrowed his brow. “We’re going to need to take a closer look. If the ice has closed in all around us, we’ll have to break it up by hand.”
    â€œIf it pays overtime, I’m game,” Henry added. While he looked in better shape than most of the crew, it was clearly not a one-man job. No matter how much energy he and his pal could summon, it was going to take more than a couple of men.
    Kevin groaned. “I don’t know. If it’s thick enough to hold us, can a few guys even break it up enough to bust out?”
    â€œYou only have to break away enough so I can throttle up the engines,” Brewster said. “I’m going to try to chop up what’s back there with the propellers.”
    â€œLike a blender,” Boucher added.
    Brewster shot him a let-me-handle-it glance and continued. “The cavitation of the props could break up what you guys loosen. If I can move us astern, we can try to fire the engines harder and plow forward. But I need space ahead to make a run at the ice pack. That means clearing out the ice behind us.”
    Noah shook his head. “You think the hull fortifications are strong enough to handle that? You’re going to damage the ship or even breach the hull. If we’re lucky, you’ll just burn out the engines trying to get us moving instead of sinking us.”
    â€œStow that shit, Cabot,” Boucher snapped. He leaned away from the wall, looking ready to physically silence Noah. Brewster held up a hand.
    â€œWhy not call for a breaker?” Kevin said. “Why won’t they come help us?”
    â€œWe’re experiencing interference with the radio.”
    â€œIt’s not just the radio,” Noah butted in. “The whole communications array is dead.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘dead’?” Theo asked, fidgeting in his seat. The crew seemed to be coming to life—the direness of the situation outside slowly climbing on top of their physical woes. All except Puck, who remained propped against the wall, watching through half-lidded eyes.
    Brewster leaned forward, pressing his balled fists onto the table in front of him. His pallid face reddened as he admitted, “We don’t know what the problem with communications is. It could be ice built up on the superstructure messing with the antennas, but given that the sat phone is down, too, my guess is the fog.”
    â€œYou can’t know that for certain.”
    â€œNobody asked for your opinion, Cabot. We need to get out of this atmosphere before we can be certain whether we’ve permanently lost touch.”
    â€œMy opinion? My opinion is that you’ve been taking chances with all our lives. You could have skirted that storm. Instead, you steered us right into it and put Felix in the hospital. Now we’re in this mess and we can’t call for a medevac. We’re dead in the ice because you won’t admit you’re not … I don’t know. Not thinking clearly about what we should do.” Noah felt himself rising from his seat, as though he was being lifted. As soon as he was on his feet, he regretted it. Brewster’s back straightened, his fists still balled up tight and knuckles white. Boucher looked ready to make good on his promise to tan Noah’s hide. Noah decided that if he was going to take a leathering for standing up for himself and the crew, he should just lay it all out.
    â€œYou want to get out and push, go ahead,” he said. “But there are fifteen other men on this ship who want to get home to their families. For fuck’s sake, look at Puck.” Whatever had gotten into the ship and its crew was affecting them all differently. Brewster was on his feet,