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The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 149 из 164He's the onlyman who knows where the PyrE is.»
«Could it still be here. . . unexploded?»
«If it's in the ILI safe, yes. That stuff is inert to anything. Never ruin that now. How are we going to get him out?»
«Well we can't work down from above.»
«Why not?»
«Isn't it obvious? One false step and the whole mess will collapse., «Did you see that copper flowing down?»
«God, yes!»
«Well if we don't get him out in ten minutes, he'll be at the bottom of a pool of molten copper.»
«What can we do?»
«I've got a long shot.»
«What?»
«The cellars of the old RCA buildings across the street are as deep as~ St. Pat's.»
«And?»
'Well go down and try to hole through. Maybe we can pull Foyle out from the bottom.»
A squad broke into the ancient RCA buildings, abandoned and sealed up for two generations. They went down into the cellar arcades, qiimbling museums of the retail stores of centuries past. They located the ancient elevator shafts and dropped through them into the subcellars filled with electric installations, heat plants and refrigeration systems. They went down into the sump cellars, waist deep in water from the streams of prehistoric Manhattan Island, streams that still flowed beneath the streets that covered them.
As they waded through the sump cellars, bearing east-northeast to bring up opposite the St. Pat's vaults, they suddenly discovered that the pitch dark was illuminated by a fiery flickering up ahead. Dagenham shouted and flung himself forward. The explosion that had opened the subcellars of St. Pat's had split the septum between its vaults and those of the RCA buildings. Through a jagged rent in stone and earth they could peer into the bottom of the inferno.
Fifty feet inside was Foyle, trapped in a labyrinth of twisted beams, stones, pipe, metal, and wire. He was illuminated by a roaring glow from above him and fitful flames around him. His clothes were on fire and the tattooing was livid on his face. He moved feebly, like a bewildered animal in a maze.
«My God!» Y'ang-Yeovil exclaimed. «The Burning Man!»
«What?»
«The Burning Man I saw on the Spanish Stairs. Never mind that now. What can we do?»
«Go in, of course.»
A brilliant white gob of copper suddenly oozed down close to Foyle and splashed ten feet below him. It was followed by a second, a third, a slow steady stream. A pool began to form. Dagenham and Y'ang-Yeovil sealed the face plates of their armor and crawled through the break in the septum.
«Could it still be here. . . unexploded?»
«If it's in the ILI safe, yes. That stuff is inert to anything. Never ruin that now. How are we going to get him out?»
«Well we can't work down from above.»
«Why not?»
«Isn't it obvious? One false step and the whole mess will collapse., «Did you see that copper flowing down?»
«God, yes!»
«Well if we don't get him out in ten minutes, he'll be at the bottom of a pool of molten copper.»
«What can we do?»
«I've got a long shot.»
«What?»
«The cellars of the old RCA buildings across the street are as deep as~ St. Pat's.»
«And?»
'Well go down and try to hole through. Maybe we can pull Foyle out from the bottom.»
A squad broke into the ancient RCA buildings, abandoned and sealed up for two generations. They went down into the cellar arcades, qiimbling museums of the retail stores of centuries past. They located the ancient elevator shafts and dropped through them into the subcellars filled with electric installations, heat plants and refrigeration systems. They went down into the sump cellars, waist deep in water from the streams of prehistoric Manhattan Island, streams that still flowed beneath the streets that covered them.
As they waded through the sump cellars, bearing east-northeast to bring up opposite the St. Pat's vaults, they suddenly discovered that the pitch dark was illuminated by a fiery flickering up ahead. Dagenham shouted and flung himself forward. The explosion that had opened the subcellars of St. Pat's had split the septum between its vaults and those of the RCA buildings. Through a jagged rent in stone and earth they could peer into the bottom of the inferno.
Fifty feet inside was Foyle, trapped in a labyrinth of twisted beams, stones, pipe, metal, and wire. He was illuminated by a roaring glow from above him and fitful flames around him. His clothes were on fire and the tattooing was livid on his face. He moved feebly, like a bewildered animal in a maze.
«My God!» Y'ang-Yeovil exclaimed. «The Burning Man!»
«What?»
«The Burning Man I saw on the Spanish Stairs. Never mind that now. What can we do?»
«Go in, of course.»
A brilliant white gob of copper suddenly oozed down close to Foyle and splashed ten feet below him. It was followed by a second, a third, a slow steady stream. A pool began to form. Dagenham and Y'ang-Yeovil sealed the face plates of their armor and crawled through the break in the septum.