"That's the full news.  The tough news is the main cabin is filled with

nearly a meter of water, and we didn't bring our galoshes."

Gale's face turned serious.  "God help any injured who didn't stay dry.

They wouldn't have lasted eight minutes in freezing water."

"If none of the survivors can open an emergency exit, we may have to cut

our way inside."

"Sparks from cutting equipment have a nasty habit of igniting sloshing

jet fuel," said Lieutenant Cork Simon, the stocky leader of the Polar

Explorer's damage-control team.  He bore the confident look of a man who

knew his job inside out and then some.  "Better we go in through the

main cabin door.  Doc Gale, here, will need all the space he can get to

remove any stretcher cases."

"I agree," said Pitt.  "But a pressurized door that's been jammed

against its stops by the distortion of the crash will take time to force

open.  people may be freezing to death in there.  Our first job is to

make an opening to insert the vent pipe from the heater."

He broke off as Giordino cut a steep Turn and dropped down toward a flat

area only a stone's throw from the wreck.  Everyone tensed in readiness.

Outside, the beat of the rotor blades whiPPed up a small blizzard of

snow and ice particles, turning the landing site into an

alabaster-colored stew that wiped out all vision.

Giordino had barely touched the wheels to the ice and set the throttles

on idle when Pitt shoved open the loading door, jumped into the cold and

headed toward the wreckage.  Behind him Doc Gale began directing the

unloading of supplies while Cork Simon and his team willched the

auxiliary heater and the snowmobile onto the ice.

Half-running, half-slipping, pi  made a visual inspection of the

interior of the fuse lage, carefully avoiding open breaks in the ice.

The air reeked with the unwelcome smell of jet fuel.  He climbed up the

ice MOUnd that was piled a meter thick over the cockpit windows.

Climbing the slick surface was like crawling up a greased ramp.  He

tried to scoop an opening into the cockpit, but quickly gave it up: it

would have taken an hour or more to dig through the packed ice and then

tunnel inside.

He slid down and ran around to the remaining wing.  The right section

was twisted and broken from its supporting mounts, the tip pointing

toward the tail. it lay on the ice, crushed against the sunken fuselage

only an arm's length below the row of windows.  Using the wing as a

platform over the open water, Pitt dropped to his hands and knees and

tried to peer inside.  The lights from the helicopter reflected off the

Plexiglas, and he had to cup his hands around his eyes to close out the

glare, At first he could not detect any movement, only darkness and a

deathly stillness.