Hunter Killer

by Geoffrey Jenkins

  the bug' of light under the glass-topped chart table. We were about a mile off the southern extremity of St Brandon. As I came close, Peace turned to the dead-reckoning tracer—the instrument which shows a goblin's' movements —

  and increased the volume of the sonar sound-reproducer.

  He nodded at me, tight-lipped. It was not for nothing that

  the DNI had filched Willowtrack's sound signature from the u.s. Navy's Anti-Submarine Warfare Library.

  A cloudy clutter of sound came through, then: Jum-jum

  jum-squeak!'

  Circ pump, Willowtrack,' I said.

  The sonar-man intoned, Possible contact bears zero-sevenfive degrees.'

  Could she hear us? At our speed the propeller could only

  be pinwheeling.

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  Peace's finger whitened on the activatingr button of the

  control microphone.

  Rig for silent running!'

  A paralysing quiet fell on the Control Centre. We awaited

  Peace's next move. Would he try to fox the crafty Tyler with a `sound knuckle' or try to slip away?

  Depth? Speed?'

  One-eighty feet, sir. Four knots'

  We crept along into rapidly-deepening water as the volcanic shelf on which St Brandon lies fell away into the ocean

  depths.

  Peace rapped out, All stop! Left full rudder!' Devastation eased round the extremity of St Brandon, the way off her.

  Back full! Rudder amidships!'

  A shudder pulsed through Devastation as Peace dived backwards into his own echo. A long minute passed. We were racing stern-on towards Willowtrack.

  Ahead one-third! Take her down smartly! Three hundred feet! Course one-eighty degrees true!'

  Up went the planesman's hand to the engine annunciator

  pointer. He said, without inflexion, Answers, ahead onethird, sir.'

  MKG stood like a statue among the confusing agglomeration of dials, pipes, cables and eerily-lit instrument consoles. Devastation crept away.

  For half an hour, it seemed, no one in the control-room

  drew breath. Peace altered course until I saw-the sonar-man's face whiten at the thunder of the seas against the barrier reef. Peace went deep-600 feet—and inched up and as close to

  the menacing sea-facing coastline of St Brandon as he dared. An hour passed. Tension eased. The combination of our

  sound knuckle' and the echo effects of the reef must have

  baffled Tyler.

  ' Then the sonar-man, keyed-up, exclaimed: Possible goblin contact, sir'

  Peace looked thunderstruck. She's—she's parallel with us!'" He grabbed his microphone. Rig for ultra-quiet! All stop!

  Hold her steady with the pumps, Bob! Nothing that is not

  necessary . ."

  Devastation coasted to a standstill. All turbines, generators and pumps not needed for the essential running of the ship

  were silent. Men kicked off their shoes. No one spoke.

  Peace turned on the sound reproducer. Through the woolly

  beat of surf—there it was!--jum-jum-jum-squeak!

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  The sonar operator intoned softly, 'Contact evaluated as

  submarine, sir.'

  Range? Course? Speed?'

  Range four thousand five hundred yards. Approximate

  course zero-three-five degrees true. Approximate speed—'

  he paused, tensely. ' Slowing, sir—slowing now!'

  Slowing! She had a bead on Devastation, all right! Wil- lowtrack slowed as we slowed.

  Flood her down, Bob! Seven hundred feet, smartly!'

  As the way dropped off her, Devastation started to sink, slowly at first, then more rapidly. Then, in a moment it seemed, she was starting to race for the bottom.

  Christ!' snapped Peace. That bloody salinity layer!

  Pump auxiliaries to the sea!'

  The noise of the pumps seemed to fill the whole ship. And

  Willowtrack lay less than two miles away, ears glued to us!

  A chant came from the rating at the rate-of-flow meter—it

  shows the gallonage going overboard: Six thousand out —

  seven thousand out—ten thousand out—sixteen thousand

  o u t — '

  I glanced at the fathometer: 650 feet. Peace would never

  hold her! In trying to outsmart Tyler, he had been caught by the density of the water which a short while before had been Devastation's friend.

  There was only one thing to do, Tyler or no Tyler.

  Blow the tanks!' ordered Peace.

  As it thundered into the main ballast tanks the high-pressure air seemed to shout our position to Willowtrack. It ceased ; Devastation hung uncertainly. The sonar was silent. Willowtrack had the edge. The warm smell of polythene caught at my throat.

  Then the sonar-man said, Goblin contact—' a look of astonishment came over his face—' she's making off, sir!

  Ten knots!'

  Peace swung on me. ' What the devil is Tyler playing at !

  Here he had us nailed, then he simply pushes off.'

  Maybe he didn't hear us at all—something to do with the underwater topography,' I suggested. ' The sound could

  be distorting.'

  Peace shook his head. There it was, however, on the sonarscope: the retreating sound of Willowtrack. Peace was uneasy. It's a double bluff,' he muttered. Wants me to run for deep water—does Tyler know the cyclone forecast?'

  MKG kept his voice low. If you run, Semittanté is wide open.'

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  The alternative is the simplest—Willowtrack didn't hear us,' I said. After all, there's a hell of a racket, the sea on the reef ..

  True,' Peace reflected.

  'Contact goblin—she's speeding up, sir!'

  What the hell!' snapped Peace. Ahead one-third!'

  We started to shadow our pursuer.

  The sonar-man chanted, Contact fading, nineteen thousand yards . . Peace's order for flank speed came too late. As mysteriously as she had halted, Willowtrack disappeared. .

  ' Secure from ultra-quiet,' ordered Peace. There was no

  need now to keep the men tensed up. We had lost her—or

  had we?

  The chart's moving needlepoint of light now placed us off

  the southern end of Seahorse Sound inlet—where the seahorse's tail started to curve, as Adele fancifully pointed out. The inlet itself, stretching for five miles parallel with our present course, terminated at a seaward entrance with a coral headland '—St Brandon's widest sector. Stealthily Devasta- tion inched on.

  I glanced up at the big clock and mKG's glance followed

  mine. Six o'clock! The whole afternoon had passed.

  Peace turned to us, jubilant. It was the sort of exercise his iron nerves rejoiced in. 'Lost her!'

  Certain?' asked MKG.

  ' Pretty well,' he replied. What's on your mind, Mica?' `

  Shall we go through to your quarters?' he asked--, John

  and Adele, too.

  Peace's excitement gave way to caution. Of course, Wil- lowtrack may be lying doggo.'

  We went through to the cabin.

  MKG said, without preamble, See here, Commander, now you've shaken Willowtrack off our necks, I must let the President know what's happening.'

  'Let the President know?' echoed Peace incredulously. '

  You want me to signal—to give our position away after all I'

  ve done to evade Willowtrack?'

  MKG reddened slightly, but he remained adamant. 'I said once before, Commander, that my first duty is to the office of Vice-President. Anything might have happened since the White House signal to me yesterday. It's almost sunset now

  and the routine time my messages are scheduled to go off.

  Adele can send it—I'd prefer her to your regular operator.'

  Peace swung backwards and forwards on his heels. You

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  seriously propose that I shou
ld go to periscope depth, put

  up an antenna which is detectable by Willowtrack's radar, and send off a signal which will enable Tyler to get a fix on my position? Have you also considered the time-factor involved in sending such a signal? How long do you think I'll have to stay up? It's not a matter of a few minutes, it's a signal halfway across the world. Reception may be bad. It usually is in a west-east or east-west direction in these latitudes. Devastation will be a sitting duck!'

  In Willowtrack I had seen the clash of three wills, now I was witnessing that of two.

  ' I don't like to say this, Commander,' replied mKG, but

  unless you agree, you will surface and return me to Willow- track. The Little Bear missioin will be off. Either you signal, or it's over with.'

  Devastation scarcely made a sound crawling along. The cabin creaked.

  You'd call off a mission of such magnitude to send a

  signal which may kill it anyway?' demanded Peace.

  You, Commander, are devoted to this mission,' MKG said quietly, and his personality seemed to flood the cabin. If Tyler had been equally so, we wouldn't be in a spot now. But

  .he saw his duty to the American nation and the office of the Vice-President as the greater. My first duty is to my office as Vice-President. If the mission runs counter to that, the mission will be sacrificed. The signal epitomizes my duty. It must go.'

  But Willowtrack will locate us,' argued Peace.

  I broke in, You said aboard Willowtrack that the daily signal at sunset to ,the White House applied only during

  Willowtrack's outward journey to St Brandon. After that, you said you would keep in touch through the DNI. We could come now to periscope depth, get off a brief message to the DNI that you are, in fact, in good hands—' he smiled slightly= and suggest a return signal at a given time a couple of hours later.'

  Peace shook his head. It would give Devastation's position away,' he repeated.

  Let me send it—even Williams says I'm the quickest

  operator he knows,' urged Adele. Very brief—half a dozen

  words. Willowtrack would never get a bearing on us for so short a while.'

  We all faced Peace, whose face remained bleak. It's an

  old Royal Navy adage,' he said. When in battle, never break radio silence.

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  The DNI's only eight hundred miles away, the White

  House is eight thousand,' Adele urged. ' I can raise Mahe in a couple of minutes.'

  A couple of minutes is all Willowtrack needs,' retorted Peace.

  Will you agree?' I asked MKG.

  I'll agree if the Commander will agree. One brief message to the DNI and a return to be fixed for the President's okay. Otherwise—' He shrugged.

  Peace stood silent and then, without speaking, he went to

  an intercom. Bob, any sign of Willowtrack?'

  Not a thing, sir.

  Very well. I'm coming through. We'll go to periscope depth.' He said to MKG, with half-grudging admiration, I don't like this, MKG, but if you keep it brief maybe we can get away with it.'

  Adele and I will draft it,' replied MKG.

  Peace and I returned to the Control Centre. Our instruments still showed no sign of Willowtrack. Periscope depth,' ordered Peace. Ease her up.'

  mKG and Adele joined us within minutes and Peace sent

  them through to the radio-room. Williams, grinning ruefully, came out and closed the door behind him.

  Peace brought Devastation up to 50 feet. With a series of orders, he raised the radio antenna. I watched the clock.

  One minute.

  Two minutes.

  Three minutes.

  Then MKG came out, gave the thumbs-up sign. Peace shot off orders in rapid fire.

  Take her down—two hundred feet, handsomely! Full

  ahead!'

  The big sub picked up speed. We came opposite the

  entrance to Seahorse Sound. The surf drummed on the sonar. Peace's continuing unease communicated itself to the group poring over the chart table. A new ripple of sound' What is it?' Peace jerked out. Big school of fish,' replied the sonar-man evenly.

  `Could be, opposite the inlet entrance,' muttered Peace,

  staring at the chart. I hope to God that signal

  '

  The sonar-man's voice cracked through the silent, weirdlylit control-room. Contact bearing zero-four-zero degrees! Range three

  thousand yards! Course zero! Speed zero!'

  My God' exclaimed Peace, jumping for the control stand.

  Willowtrack! Stopped right across our bows! And we send 118

  off a bloody signal into the bargain to tell her exactly where we are!'

  He swung on MKG, who stood there—pale. For a moment I thought he would reproach him ; then he turned back to his

  instruments.

  Tyler—the foxy bastard! He made an offset to ambush us, and then we go and tell him we're on our way into his

  ambush! Jesus! That bloody signal!' He snatched up his

  microphone and stabbed the button.

  Rig for steep angles Right full rudder, ahead flank, five hundred feet, smartly!'

  The planesmen snapped on their safety-belts for the hydrobatics. MKG, Adele and I grabbed the overhead trolley-straps. Tyler had been very shrewd: he had read his opponent's

  mind in a way which the Navy's training schools at Nuky

  Poo and Dam Neck never taught. Peace too, had been right

  about mKG's signal and his uneasiness had been on the same

  instinctive, non-rational basis as Tyler's—the supra-conscious decisions of the hunter and the hunted. Tyler had first shown a masterly intuitive reading of the signs and then we had handed him the rest on a plate by virtue of MKG'S signal. Had this been war, I told myself grimly, the first we would have heard of Willowtrack would have been the swift rush of her torpedoes. It remained now to see how Tyler would push

  home his advantage.

  I clung to my trolley-strap as the deck went down thirty

  degrees and the reduction gears of the giant nuclear turbines took on their full-throated whine.

  Call out the depths!' ordered Peace.

  Three hundred—three-fifty—four hundred—'

  Peace raised his right hand with two fingers curved in a

  tight circle to the diving officer. The man nodded and gave a volley of orders, but the depth-indicator had hit 550 feet before he caught her.

  Left full rudder, three hundred feet, smartly!' commanded Peace. My stomach gave a sickening lurch as Devastation turned on a sixpence and spiralled upwards. Peace held her to the

  first half of a tight S, rolled her off the top and went deep, twisting likes a harpooned whale.

  Sonar said, Contact bears two-six-zero degrees, five thousand yards, speed approximately thirty-five knots.'

  Tyler was clinging like a leech—he had lost less than a mile as we shot off into a series of tail-chasing gyrations. Peace reached the glass table-top, hanging on as Devastation peeled off in the equivalent of a steep aeroplane, bank. She headed 119

  towards the entrance to Seahorse Sound, tearing towards its jagged jaws at 30 knots. He grabbed my strap to steady himself. There were rings of sweat below his eyes. John,' he asked, you didn't get any soundings in that

  entrance, did you?'

  The fear and the thrill of what he was about to do hit me. '

  No.'

  Adele said, At St Brandon there are stories of a deep,

  mysterious passage somewhere into the reef ..

  MKG broke in, Commander, rather ..

  Peace shook his head. ' No! Periscope depth!'

  Devastation was under full power.

  ' Up attack periscope!'

  The long tube, much thinner than the main periscope so as to leave no feather of spray on the surface, slid up at the periscope jockey's touch of a lever. Peace clipped down the handles and threw his left arm over one in the almost affectionate way I had seen so many times. He took a q
uick sweep round. He beckoned me over. I glanced into the eyepiece. I

  gasped. We were rushing straight at two big coral cliffs. Through a gauzy curtain of spray the red sun sank balefully, masking the streaming cliffs and dagger-like coral-heads. In the strange light, the coral's soft pinks, reds and yellows were blurred to leprous monochromes on which stood out in startling juxtaposition jagged, striated black barnacles, sea creatures, and weed. They seemed right on top of us, but

  in fact the entrance was nearly half a mile wide. I flicked the single-lens 'scope astern—no Willowtrack, only a wild following sea exploding against the cliffs. We were in the entrance.

  ' Speed one-third!' Peace ordered.

  Adele saw my face. What is it?' she whispered. I

  whispered back, If she strikes—I love you . .

  Peace at the 'scope gave a quick glance round—and astern.

  All stop!' The engine annunciators swung. ' Rig for ultraquiet !'

  Speed zero,' called the plotter softly.

  All stop. Sonar?'

  Would Willowtrack come crashing into us at full speed just as we had stormed the wild passage, unable to detect us in

  her path because of the breaking surf? Would Tyler take the risk?Goblin contact slowing'

  Of course. Tyler had no way of knowing there was a gap in the barrier reef.

  Ease her down, to one hundred feet.'

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  The auxiliary pump clattered softly and sea-water crunched

  into the trimming tanks. Would Willowtrack hear—and come on?Goblin contact—speed zero'

  Tyler had funked it! But Devastation was in mortal danger

  —the swift race of the current had swung her stern towards

  the coral cliffs.

  Peace was on the ball. Periscope depth! Pump from

  auxiliaries to the sea!'

  The diving officer's handling was masterly. A 5,000-ton submarine is not meant to ride up and down like a lift, especially when a current is snatching and spinning her towards destruction.

  Every eye was on Peace. Slowly, deliberately, he made a 360-degree sweep with the main periscope.

  Down periscope! Ahead one-third! Course two-twozero.'

  Straight into the inlet!

  ` Goblin contact lost,' chanted the soner-operator.

  ` Can't Willowtrack hear us any more?' Adele asked me anxiously.