Deep Six (Dirk Pitt 7)

Pitt rudely pushed Loren aside and lifted Larimer to his feet, slinging one arm around his shoulder. Giordino came out of the bathroom and distributed the wet blankets and towels.

"All right, Al, you help me with the senator. Loren, you hold on to Congressman Moran and stick close behind me." He broke off and looked at everyone. "Okay, here we go."

He yanked open the door and was engulfed by a rolling wau of smoke that came out of nowhere.

Almost before the explosion faded, Captain Pokofsky shook off stunned disbelief and rushed to the bridge. The young watch officer was pounding desperately on the automated ship console in agonized frustration.

"Close all watertight doors and actuate the fire control system!" Pokofsky shouted.

"I can't" the watch officer cried helplessly. "We've lost all power!"

"What about the auxiliary generators?"

"They're out too." The watch officer's face was wrapped in undisguised shock. "The ship's phones are dead. The damage-control computer is down. Nothing responds. We can't give a general alarm."

Pokofsky ran out on the bridge wing and stared aft. His once beautiful ship was vomiting fire and smoke from her entire midsection.

A few moments before there was music and relaxed gaiety.

Now the entire scene was one of horror. The open swimming pool and lounge decks had been turned into a crematorium. The two hundred people stretched under the sun were almost instantly incinerated by the tidal fall of fiery oil. Some had saved themselves by leaping into the pools, only to die after surfacing for air when the heat seared their lungs, and many had climbed the railings and thrown themselves overboard, their skin and brief clothing ablaze.

Pokofsky stood sick and stunned at the sight of the carnage. It was a moment in time borrowed from hell. He knew in his heart that his ship was lost. There was no stopping the holocaust, and the list was increasing as the sea poured into the Leonin Andreyev's bowels. He returned to the bridge.

"Pass the word to abandon ship," he said to the watch officer.

"The port boats are burning. Load what women and children you can into the starboard boats still intact."

As the watch officer hurried off, the chief engineer, Erik Kazinkin, appeared, out of breath from his climb from below. His eyebrows and half his hair were singed away. The soles of his shoes were smoldering but he appeared not to notice. His mind was numb to the pain.

"Give me a report," Pokofsky ordered in a quiet tone. "What caused the explosion?"

"The fuel tank blew," answered Kazinkin. "God knows why.

Took out the power generating room and the auxiliary generator compartment as well. Boiler rooms two and three are flooded. We managed to manually close the watertight doors to the engine rooms, but she's taking on water at an alarming rate. And without power to operate the pumps He shrugged defeatedly without continuing.

All options to save the Leonin Andreyev had evaporated. The only morbin question was whether she would become a burnedout derelict or sink first? Few would survive the next hour, Pokofsky accepted with dread certainty. Many would burn and many would drown, unable to enter the pitifully few lifeboats that were still able to be launched.

"Bring your men up from below," said Pokofsky. "We're abandoning the ship."

"Thank you, Captain," said the chief engineer. He held out his hand. "Good luck to you."

They parted and Pokofsky headed for the communications room one deck below. The officer in charge looked up from the radio as the captain suddenly strode through the doorway.

"Send out the distress call," Pokofsky ordered.

"I took the responsibility, sir, of sending out Mayday signals immediately after the explosion."

Pokofsky placed a hand on the officer's shoulder. "I commend your initiative." Then he asked calmly, "Have you managed to transmit without problem?"

"Yes, sir. When the power supply went off, I switched to the emergency batteries. The first response came from a Korean container ship only ten miles to the southwest."

"Thank God someone is close. Any other replies?"

"The United States Navy at Guantdnamo Bay is responding with rescue ships and helicopters. The only other vessel within fifty miles is a Norwegian cruise ship."

"Too late for her," said Pokofsky thoughtfully. "We'll have to pin our hopes on the Koreans and American Navy."

With the soaked blanket over his head, Pitt had to feel his way along the passageway and up the smoke-filled staircase. Three or four times he and Giordino tripped over the bodies of passengers who had succumbed to asphyxiation.