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The landing was more a controlled crash than a touchdown The 212 came down hard on the skids, but they held Murphy was already unsnapping his safety harness

“Driver,” he said, s—I’ll only be a minute”

Opening the door, he stepped out and a few feet back and opened the cargo door Then he removed a pair of snowshoes, which he attached to his feet Pulling another coat over the one he was already wearing, he began to dig in a crate, placing the items he needed into a backpack

“Hold down the fort,” he shouted to the front of the helicopter “I’es”

Gurt nodded, then watched as Murphy disappeared into the blowing snow Then he began to play with his radio He found little to hear, so he switched back to the regular frequency

“SHERPA, Sherpa, Sherpa, this is the Oregon, over” In the control room, Eric Stone looked at Hanley orry

“That’s the fifth ti”

“Sherpa, Sherpa, Sherpa, this is the Oregon, over”

“Oregon, this is Sherpa,” Gurt answered “Read you eight by eight”

There was a two-second delay as the signal bounced off the ionosphere and down to the ship

“Where are you?” Hanley said, taking the microphone

“We’re on site,” Gurt reported “Your man just left for the appointment”

“We just intercepted a couys,” Hanley said “Soate”

“This is not good, Oregon,” Gurt said quickly “I have no way to reach Murphy and warn hi to take us some time to lift off”

“Okay,” Hanley said, “we can send a signal to Murph’s beeper—we’ll tell him to return to where you are In theIf they do, you take to the air”