Operation Malacca

by Joe Poyer

  Keilty turned to Atkins. The pilot had an easy smile on his face and gave Keilty a wink of confidence.

  Ìt'll be a matter of picking the right wave, sir,' he said in broad Australian accents. 'Once in the air, it'll be rough, but we should do all right. With the new inertial compass, we shouldn't have any trouble finding the right spot. Perhaps I'll be able to set you down right over the sub.'

  `Good,' Keilty replied. 'I'll leave that end up to you. But don't forget, there's only one good long-distance swimmer in the three of us.'

  `Don't worry too much about that. I'll try and hang over the spot long enough to direct one of the MTBs in when I see the sub go'

  For the next ten minutes, the four men went over the operation completely. The copter would set them down half a mile or so from the sub. They would depend on Charlie's sonar capability to home them in. Each would take one part of the sub: Weston, the bow; Keilty, midship; and Charlie, the stern. Each would mount his two bombs twenty feet apart, one on the deck, the other on the hull above the ballast tanks. All six mines would be set for the full 120 seconds. The mines contained a powerful battery-powered electromagnet, and so would make no sound as they were attached. After all the mines were set, they would backtrack as fast as possible until they went off. Hopefully, the concussion would do no more

  than shake them up. Charlie would then round up the two humans, and they would surface and release smoke flares and the radio sonarbuoy to aid the MTh in picking them up.

  The met. crew estimated four-foot waves in the vicinity of the islands. They were to be about three miles offshore and had no worries about reefs.

  Satisfied that everything was planned as closely as possible, Keilty left to pick up his gear. When he came on deck again, hauling his heavy 'lung' pack after him, he could feel the ship turning to run with the waves. The lurching and heeling had leveled out somewhat as the ship settled firmly on its new course.

  Atkins was already idling the blades of the big Avro Roe copter. Rawingson stepped forward for a last 'good luck' and a firm handshake.

  'Hey, Pete, ever consider leaving the Navy?' Keilty shouted over the wind and noise of the gas-turbine engine. 'Got a good spot on the team open for you.'

  Rawingson grinned and pushed him forward. Keilty clambered up the ladder, assisted by two crewmen, who slung his pack aboard. Keilty edged around Charlie's tank and stowed his pack in a locker behind the copilot's seat, then checked Charlie over.

  The dolphin's tank had been drained and he was resting on oil-filled cushions, looking completely unhappy and alien in the plastic suit and fitted packs. The metal pack containing thèlung' was strapped just behind his dorsal fin with the two jointed hoses leading to the hypodermic connector which Weston would insert before they left the copter. The two humans would hook each other up in the water.

  Weston, snugging down the last safety belt, gave Keilty a thumbs-up signal and strapped himself down.

  Keilty climbed forward into the copilot's seat.

  'You chaps all set?' Atkins asked. Through the windshield and the wipers, Keilty could see most of the off-watch crew clustered around the helicopter pad on the rain- and spray-slick deck. The looming mass of the superstructure was straight ahead. They were angled off to the starboard side of the cruiser to give the pilot clear visibility past the bow so he could judge the height of the waves.

  'We'll wait until the ruddy boat tops a crest. We have to be well on our way before she rises again,' Atkins informed Keilty.

  Keilty nodded. Ahead, he could see one of the MTBs on station several hundred yards in front of the larger ship. She would attempt to pick them up if they went in, but there certainly would not be much chance of getting out of the chopper's cramped cabin.

  The MTB disappeared as she dropped into a trough. Atkins ran the turbine up to full-rated power and rested his hand on the black pitch control. At the moment the blades carried no pitch, and consequently, very little lift. He signaled for the winches that held her down to free, and the cables fell away and snaked across the deck. The cruiser cleared a wave, hung poised for the barest of instants, then dropped.

  Atkins twisted the pitch knob and yanked the column back. Keilty felt the helicopter lurch and heard the landing gear squeal as they touched down hard. Then they were in the air. Atkins face was grim as he hauled back, one hand tending the throttle. A gust of wind caught them and he slipped power, then full on again to miss an arm of the radar antenna.

  The deck became a glistening trough in the wild waves, and then they were in the overcast fighting for altitude. The winds caught at the fragile copter, slamming it from side to side, shaking it like a terrier. Sweat stood out on Atkins' face and gleamed dully in the gray twilight as he fought for control with the elements. At two thousand feet, he leveled off and cut the power and pitch back. As the copter came around with the wind, the buffeting slackened off.

  'Pretty rough, I'd say,' Atkins muttered tightly. Keilty missed the words but not the meaning.

  They checked to see that Weston and Charlie were still with them. Both were slightly airsick and bruised from the shaking, but otherwise okay.

  Atkins warmed up the inertial compass and fed co-ordinates to it.

  'Okay, back there, hold on. The next half an hour is going to be rough,' and he swung the helicopter back into the cross wind.

  The next half hour was rough. The copter bored on across the wind. Streamers of rain slashed briefly against the windshield as the wind veered suddenly. They flew on for what seemed like forever to Keilty. The gray fog pressed in against the windshield, and with the noise of the engine and the shaking and vibration of the wind, only the flight programmer gave any indication that they were moving. Keilty was sweating heavily inside the suit, and the pure oxygen had given him a raging headache. Atkins'

  face was tense with strain as he stared at the instruments, his hands and feet never still as he rode the rudder and altitude controls.

  To Charlie, it was a nightmare of shaking on the unfamiliar oil cushions. The skin beneath his plastic suit drew tighter as it dried, until he felt ready to crawl out of the tank and cursed himself for his part in this suicidal undertaking.

  After thirty-five minutes, Atkins began losing altitude until they broke from beneath the cloud cover. The seas looked the same to Keilty, except for the absence of the cruiser and MTBs. Ahead was a barely discernible smudge on the horizon that marked Atuk Island. As they dropped lower towards the waves, the wind lessened until Keilty estimated that it was blowing less than twenty knots.

  The pilot swung the copter into a shallow circle, dropping lower all the time, until he was barely ten feet above the waves.

  'This should be it,' he shouted to Keilty. 'You'll have to jump for it from here.'

  'What about you?' Keilty shouted back. 'You can't hold in this wind.

  'I know. I'll have to go back. If we don't hear from you, I'll give you thirty minutes from the time you go in, and then radio the Vigilant to move in.'

  Keilty nodded, gripped the man's shoulder in thanks, and pulled himself back to the tank.

  Weston was already unstrapped and wrestling the tank to the door. Between them, they got it centered and ready to go. Keilty worked the straps loose and climbed into the tank with the dolphin. Weston pushed him aside and unfastened the small case that contained the connector hypodermic. He checked to see that the tank contained enough local anaesthetic to last for an hour. Then he swabbed the marked area on Charlie's broad back with alcohol. Charlie rolled his eyes up towards Keilty, who grinned and patted his head.

  'Take it easy, old friend.'

  Jack hesitated a moment, then inserted the needle just as Charlie gave his characteristic cough that indicated he was breathing in. Keilty grabbed the coaming as Jack upended the tank and Charlie slid out in a steep dive, free of the copter.

  The tank settled again and Keilty climbed to the edge and peered out. The blades of the helicopter beating against the

  fine rain sprayed his face
with mist. He knuckled his eyes free of water and saw Charlie reappear below, his curiously humped back breaking the surface momentarily; then he submerged again.

  Keilty glanced around. Weston was at his arm.

  `Next,' he yelled cheerfully over the noise. Keilty nodded and checked to make sure his back pack was secure and that his face mask was safely tucked inside the blouse of his wet suit and jumped. Rain spattered his face briefly; then he hit the water headfirst, hands pointed over his head. The bone-chilling cold of the supposedly warm water shocked him and he surfaced gasping.

  The copter was no longer directly above him, but Atkins was beating back against the wind. As the copter drifted back over him, Weston dove out, lower than Keilty, and hit the water fifty yards from him. In a moment, his head reappeared and he waved at the copter. Charlie surfaced alongside of Keilty and emitted a muffled squeak. Keilty waved to Atkins to indicate that everything was all right, and the helicopter gained altitude until it was lost in the low-hanging clouds again.

  The rain was falling lightly now and shortly Jack reached them.

  'All present and accounted for, I see,' he shouted cheerfully, over the wind.

  The two men went over the drill again and checked Charlie's equipment when he surfaced. They stripped out of the plastic coveralls and clamped their masks on quickly.

  'Turn around. You first.' Keilty still had to yell to make himself heard. The noise of the copter hovering overhead drowned out everything else.

  'You sure you'll be okay?'

  Weston nodded and lifted his back out of the water until he was resting on an inflated air pillow.

  'When I hook you up, go under for a few minutes to make sure it's working properly, then come up and fix mine.'

  Weston nodded. Keilty moved over to him and opened the connector flap. They had hooked themselves up earlier in the morning to check out the systems. Keilty pulled the hose out of its container and wiped the bayonet end with his hand, then inserted it and gave it a half turn, locking the connection securely. He gave Jack a tap on the 'lung'

  cover and watched him submerge.

  The copter still hung above them, creating a flattened and rippled area where its downdraught blew the waves flat. He could imagine the strain as Atkins fought to hang over them °in the strong wind.

  Weston surfaced again alongside him and he was ready, lying on the air pillow. He felt Jack's strong hands as he worked quickly to open the plastic cap and make the con, nection. When he felt Jack's tap, he slipped beneath the waves. Charlie and Jack appeared simultaneously alongside him, and Jack pressed the life line into his hand.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Keilty was first on the twenty-foot line attached to Charlie's harness. He clipped his ear-plug lead onto the life line.

  . . is about half a mile ahead. Pretty fancy flying,' Charlie was saying.

  Keilty felt a tug on the line and began swimming forward. He glanced over his shoulder to see the dim figure of Weston gliding silently behind.

  Half a mile. He hoped that silly clicker on Charlie's pack was working. It was going to take them a while to reach that sub. Charlie started swimming down quickly. After five minutes, he found himself tiring from the heavy burden of the pack he was carrying.

  Then he cursed himself for an ass. He had forgotten to fill the water sacs.

  The dim light filtering down from the violently rippling surface was quickly left behind.

  Even at the start, Keilty could hardly see more than the powerful tail flukes ahead of him moving up and down tirelessly, and soon he found himself surrounded by complete blackness. Already, his leg muscles were beginning to tire and he realized how much out of shape he was. The bulky projections of the equipment and mines attached to his belt and back made swimming that much harder. He thought of checking with both Jack and Charlie to see how they were doing, then decided not to. No sense in admitting so early that Jack may have had a point.

  He pushed doggedly on for another five minutes before calling a halt. Charlie looped back as Weston moved up. Keilty unslung the pistol and an oversized cartridge.

  'Everyone okay?' he asked. Both Charlie's and Weston's acknowledgment came back quickly. Charlie's voice, coming both through the transphonemator and the underwater voice membrane, assumed almost its normal squeal-like pitch, while Jack's was low and distorted.

  'How far to go, Charlie?' he asked.

  `We're getting closer now. From here, we go straight down. We have little more than a quarter of a mile left. I am sure it is a submarine. Nothing else seems to be moving and it looks like it's in the same place that it was when I saw it last.'

  'Okay, group. Soon as I send off this report, we go and get It.' He clipped the cartridge to the neckband microphone and dictated the information tersely. Then he opened the breech of the pistol and inserted the cartridge. With the muzzle above his head and pointed to the surface, he pulled the trigger. There was a soft whoosh, and the pistol jerked very gently in his hand. Looking up, all he could see was a rising stream of CO2 bubbles. He spread his hands in resignation and they took up the trek again.

  They dove deeper and deeper until the only light was the dim luminous twin dial of the depth gauge and chronometer on his wrist. The figures of both Charlie and Jack had long since been lost in the black murk and the only sensations left to him were the occasional sounds of breathing in his ear plug and the steady tug on the line.

  Suddenly he became aware of the absence of a second sound that should have blanked everything else out. Charlie's clicker was working away steadily, but there were no answering sounds from the ocean floor, now less than thirty feet beneath them. The research boys had told him that he should be able to hear the mollusks as soon as they reached the ninehundred-foot level. At the same time, the tug on the line slackened and he felt Charlie's tail flukes graze his cheek.

  `What's the matter?' Jack asked.

  `Listen,' Keilty commanded. 'There's no noise from those damn mollusks.'

  There was a short silence, punctuated only with the sound of breathing.

  `So there isn't,' Jack replied slowly.

  Keilty felt Charlie's rough hide scrape against his arm.

  `That isn't all – the submarine is moving,' Charlie said.

  Keilty muttered a four-letter expletive to himself. 'What about the cruiser?'

  There was a short silence from Charlie; then, 'I can't tell, it's out of my range probably.'

  Keilty pulled the pistol from his belt and clipped the cartridge to the neckband microphone again and for several seconds recorded a message. Then he inserted the cartridge into the Very pistol and fired it towards the surface.

  `Let's hope it's not too late,' muttered Keilty. 'I warned them to stay away.'

  `You didn't tell them the sub was moving, did you?' said Weston.

  'Not on your life. They find that out and all hell's gonna break loose. Before they could find and destroy it, she will have fired all her missiles.'

  Keilty was surprised at how sluggish he felt. The cold water had thoroughly numbed him and every time he moved, he felt as if he were trying to swim in heavy molasses. A series of pains had begun across his chest and succeeding breaths were causing him to gasp.

  They were almost nine hundred feet down now, and they were blind, except for Charlie's sonar vision. The miniature instrument readouts lining his mask rim were all into the green except for the pulse and respiration rate which were edging towards the red.

  `Wait a minute,' Charlie said suddenly. 'The sub has slowed. I'm not sure, but it seems to be moving back more into the shelter of the island's base.

  'That would make sense,' Jack interjected. 'If they can get close enough, they could take a chance on any sonar waves being scrambled enough by the bottom to hide them. How far away now?'

  Charlie considered. 'I'd say close to five hundred yards. Wait ... I'm pretty sure they've stopped ... they seem to be about seventy feet higher, but not resting on the bottom.'

  Òkay,' Keilty sai
d tiredly, 'let's go before they decide this place is too unhealthy. It should take about five minutes.'

  The three swam on again, pushing bodies that were close to exhaustion. Even for Charlie, the depth and the cold were beginning to make their effects felt. It was still impossible for the men to make out shapes, but Charlie kept up a running countdown for their benefit. When they were within fifty yards, he stopped them.

  'It's just ahead,' he announced.

  Keilty dragged his mind away from the torture of swimming and back to the sub.

  `Can you see any indications of movement?'

  No, it's just sitting there. Those things at the back ... propellers ... aren't moving either. I can see it clearly, but nothing is happening.'

  `Mort, you sound pretty beat ...'

  `Shut up,' Keilty growled savagely. 'What the hell do you expect?'

  Weston ignored the outburst and fumbled for his arm. 'What the devil are 'you doing?'

  Keilty tried to pull his arm away.

  `Relax, you idiot. Take these . . He pressed two capsules sealed in plastic into Keilty's hand.

  `What

  ?'

  `Don't argue. I've just taken two. They're a fancy pep pill. You too, Charlie, they won't hurt you.' He pressed two capules out of the plastic wrapper into the dolphin's mouth.

  Keilty slipped up his mouthpiece and downed his. 'Okay, happy? Now, get out those limpet bombs. You guys know the drill, so let's go.'

  Charlie started forward again. He would place each man at his station, and then take the stern himself. He was surprised at how much better he was beginning to feel. The cold had stopped bothering him, and all but a trace of sluggishness was gone. His sonar was now indicating a long object directly ahead and he backed carefully with his flukes to keep from swatting Keilty, then let their momentum carry him forward.

  Keilty brushed the slick and cold surface of metal below him and felt around for a handhold. It must be the sub, he thought. If it had been sunk in the war, the hull would be crusted with marine growth. The blackness surrounding him was complete and utterly intense. The pains in his chest had stopped and he no longer felt as if he were freezing to death.