“You think you can stop me?” I step closer to him. “I don’t have time for this, Grim. Either help me or get out of my way.”
He releases a frustrated breath, his brows dipping so low they shadow his eyes. “Cap, make it two ropes.”
I nod grimly and slip on the life jacket. The rope is tight, but only so long. It’s been a matter of a few minutes, but Larnyard’s red jacket seems farther away. Grim and I grab a lifesaver for Larnyard, climb into the raft and start paddling toward him. He’s still bobbing up and down wildly, screaming over the storm, but the rope between us and the ship catches. We’ve gone as far as we can, but we’re a few feet shy of Larnyard’s struggling figure.
Shit.
It’s in that moment I realize how truly vulnerable we are. We strive for control, for power, to rule our small domains. But in the end, one wave, one storm could toss us beyond saving. I don’t know where the winds and water will take me, but I untie the rope from my waist.
“No way!” Grim screams over the wind. “King, no.”
“I have a life jacket,” I yell back at him. “His chances are better if he has one, too. We’re too close not to try, Grim.”
“You keep saying that shit.”
I grab the lifesaver and dive into the icy water. I press through the water toward him, my arms fresher than his, but still struggling against such powerful waves. I’m grateful for even a few seconds of the wind lessening enough for him to hear me.
“Larnyard!” I shout. His wide, frightened eyes meet mine, and he starts frantically swimming against the heaving waves toward me.
I toss the lifesaver, keeping the rope end in my tight grip. He grabs hold of it and manages to slip it over his head. I tug on the rope, pulling him closer, even as the winds and waves pull harder. I start swimming toward the boat, feeling his heavy, but reassuring weight as I cut through the water toward the raft and Grim’s outstretched hand.
“Damn idiot,” Grim mutters, pulling me into the raft and adding his strength to drag Larnyard by the lifesaver’s rope toward us. We immediately start paddling to the ship and the ladder lowered on its side, waiting for us. Grim scrambles up and Larnyard follows, dripping and shivering. Icicles are forming on my life jacket and I know the frigid water only adds to the dangerous cold. I’m probably mere minutes from hypothermia despite the extreme-weather gear. My teeth chatter and my bones rattle. They have to pull me the last few feet when my exhausted arms and legs finally give out. I’m drawing a huge sigh of relief, when one last gust of wind tosses me as I’m climbing back onto the ship, slamming my head into the railing, and everything goes as dark as the Antarctic sunless winter.
30
Maxim
“This ship cannot sink,” I say, my words slurred with fatigue and whatever the team doctor gave me for pain. I wince when he pulls the thread through a small wound at my hairline.
My words cut into the shouts of jubilation and fill the ship’s meeting room where everyone’s gathered. It’s only been an hour since I regained consciousness. I wasn’t out long, but I have one hell of a headache. It’s hard to concentrate, to follow the developments, but I do know we cannot allow the ship to sink.
“We’re getting off, Kingsman,” Dr. Larnyard says, brows drawn together. “The winds have let up just enough, maybe only long enough for us to get out of here.”
He’s nursing a mug of cocoa, no worse for wear from our little swim in the icy ocean.
“Yeah, King,” Captain Rosteen says. “Neither the Japanese nor the Russians could risk a helicopter to reach us. Your Americans are coming through.”
The team gives another shout of relief and round of high-fiving.
“I get that,” I say, my teeth still chattering despite the warmth from the heater. “And I’m grateful, of course, but we can’t abandon this ship.”
“The hell we can’t,” David snaps. “Maxim, we have to jump through this window before it closes. What the hell, man?”
“Of course we’ll leave,” I agree, keeping my tone reasonable. “But it’s not enough that we’re saved. The Chrysalis has to be saved, too. Or else we may create the worst Antarctic disaster since—”
“Bahia Paraiso,” Grim says, running a hand over his military-cut pelt of hair.
“Right.” I look to Dr. Larnyard. “Do you want to go down in history beside the largest oil spill and possibly manmade ecosystemic disruption ever in this hemisphere?”
The professor gulps, and I can practically see him weighing all of his accolades and tenure against such a black mark.
“What’s Bahia Paraiso?” Peggy asks.
“An Argentinian supply ship trapped in 1989,” I tell her. “It was struck by a ’berg and sank here in Antarctica.”
“Spilled a hundred and thirty thousand gallons of diesel fuel all over the west Antarctic Peninsula coast,” Grim continues, “and destroyed the local wildlife.”
“I came here to do something good,” I tell them, spreading what I hope is a compelling look over the entire team. “Something that could help in our fight to save this planet. I’ll be damned if I’ll be party to devastating one of the most pristine parts it has left.”