Read The Dragon in the Sea Online
Authors: Frank Herbert
The Dragon in the Sea (14 page)
Garcia palmed the switches and the
Ram
bounced to the lift.
Ram
bounced to the lift.
Sparrow said, “Les, give me a fifty-foot warning on the edge of the scrambler field.”
“Right,” said Bonnett. “We've a ways to go yet.”
Bonnett caught the puzzled look on Ramsey's face, said,
“They taught you things in subschool, but they never taught you this, did they?”
Ramsey shook his head.
“We're going to float up,” said Bonnett. “We may be walking on the ceiling before we get there, but we're going to do it silently.”
Sparrow looked to the static pressure gauge: 1200 poundsâabove the 0003-foot level. He glanced inquiringly at Bonnett, who shook his head.
The seconds ticked away.
Bonnett said, “Now!”
Garcia killed the drive.
Sparrow wiped his face with his hands, looked startled when his hand came away bloody. “Nosebleed,” he said. “Pressure change was too rapid. Haldane tablets, everyone.” He fished a flat green pill from a pocket, popped it into his mouth. As always, his reaction was sudden nausea. He grimaced, held the pill down by willpower, shuddered.
Ramsey choked on his pill, coughed, fought it down.
Bonnett spat into his handkerchief, said, “Human beings weren't meant to take this kind of a beating.” He shook his head.
The
Ram
began to tip gently to the right.
Ram
began to tip gently to the right.
Sparrow looked at Ramsey, said, “Johnny, go over to the left there.”
Ramsey complied, thinking:
What a way to get on a first-name basis! I'd sooner stay a dryback.
What a way to get on a first-name basis! I'd sooner stay a dryback.
As he passed Garcia, the engineering officer spoke the thought aloud: “Bet you wish you were still Junior Ramsey.”
Ramsey smiled faintly.
The deck's tipping slowed, but did not stop.
Sparrow nodded to Bonnett. “Hand pump. Start shifting some water. Slow and easy.”
Bonnett stepped to the aft bulkhead, swung out a crank handle. Sparrow took over the search-board position.
Slowly, they steadied on an even keel, but now the nose began to sink. Then the deck began to slant slowly to the left.
Sparrow glanced at Ramsey, nodded toward the aft bulkhead on his side. “Take over fore-and-aft stabilization. Easy does it. No noise.”
Ramsey moved to obey. He looked at the pressure gauge: 840 pounds. They were above the 2000-foot level.
“We can maintain some sort of trim until we hit wave turbulence,” said Sparrow. “Then we may have to risk the drive.”
Gently, the
Ram
drifted upward, tipping, canting.
Ram
drifted upward, tipping, canting.
Ramsey found the rhythm of it. They couldn't hold her in exact trim. But they could rock her to a regular teeter-totter rhythm. He grinned across at Bonnett on lateral stabilization.
The deck suddenly stopped a leftward countermotion and heeled far right, came back again, nose rising; again she heeled to the right. A hissing sound resonated through the hull.
The screen on the forward bulkheadâtuned to the conning TV eyeâshowed milky green.
Sparrow stood at the controls, one hand on the rail. He stared upward at the screen.
When's he going to give us headway?
Ramsey wondered.
Ramsey wondered.
This time the
Ram
heaved far over to the left.
Ram
heaved far over to the left.
For one frightening moment, Ramsey looked directly down into the pipe and conduit maze against the port pressure hull.
We're going over
, he thought.
We're going over
, he thought.
But the
Ram
came back sluggishly, righting. The bulkhead screen broke free of foam, cleared to reveal fog and long, white-capped rollers. The
Ram
pitched and bobbed in the seas.
Ram
came back sluggishly, righting. The bulkhead screen broke free of foam, cleared to reveal fog and long, white-capped rollers. The
Ram
pitched and bobbed in the seas.
“I agree with you, Skipper,” said Bonnett. “One way of dying is as good as another. They'd have heard us sure.”
Garcia worked his way along the handrail, fighting the uneasy motion of the deck. “If we could rig a sea anchor,” he said.
“We already have one,” said Sparrow.
Garcia blushed. “The tow!”
“Thank you, Lord, for the lovely fog,” said Bonnett.
The
Ram
swung downwind from her tow in a wide, rolling arc, jerking against the lines like a wild horse at a snubbing post.
Ram
swung downwind from her tow in a wide, rolling arc, jerking against the lines like a wild horse at a snubbing post.
“More line on the tow,” said Sparrow. He nodded to Garcia, who jumped to obey.
The motion of the deck smoothed.
Sparrow kept his gaze on the detection gear. “What's our heading, Joe?”
“Near fifty-eight degrees.”
“Wind's favorable,” said Sparrow. “And those boys down under haven't changed course.”
“They're still snooping after our last scrambler,” said Garcia.
“Time for you to go off watch, Joe,” said Sparrow. “I am relieving you.”
“Want me to bring up some sandwiches before I sack down?” asked Garcia.
“Ham and cheese,” said Bonnett.
“No, thanks,” said Sparrow. He studied the sonoscope on the search board. “We'll drift with the wind until we no longer get signals from that pack.”
Ramsey yawned.
Sparrow hooked a thumb toward the aft door. “You, too. That was a good job, Johnny.”
Ramsey said, “Aye.” He followed Garcia down the companionway, muscles aching from the unaccustomed exercise at the ballast pumps.
Garcia turned at the wardroom door, looked at Ramsey. “Chow?”
Ramsey steadied himself with one hand against the bulkhead. Beneath him, the deck rolled and dipped.
“These tubs weren't designed for the surface,” said Garcia. “What breed of sandwich?”
The thought of food suddenly made Ramsey's stomach heave. The long companionway appeared to gyrate in front of him, rolling counter to the motion of the deck. He capped his mouth with a hand, raced for his quarters. He reached the washbasin just in time, stood over it retching.
Garcia followed him, pressed a blue pill into his hand, made him swallow it.
Presently, the surging of Ramsey's stomach eased. “Thanks,” he said.
“In the sack, Junior.”
Garcia helped him grope his way into his bunk, pulled a blanket over him.
Seasick! I'll never live it down!
thought Ramsey. He heard Garcia leave. Presently, he remembered the telemeter. But he was too weak, too drowsy. He drifted off to sleep. The motion of the
Ram
became a soothing thing.
thought Ramsey. He heard Garcia leave. Presently, he remembered the telemeter. But he was too weak, too drowsy. He drifted off to sleep. The motion of the
Ram
became a soothing thing.
Rockaby
â¦
rockaby
â¦
â¦
rockaby
â¦
He could almost hear a voice. Far away. Down a tunnel. In an echo chamber.
“The boat is my mother. I shall not want ⦔
When he awakened it was the call to watch and he had a scant moment in which to glance at the telemeter tapes.
Sparrow had returned to the pattern of rigid control.
It was as though Ramsey's subconscious had been working on a problem, chewing it, and these were the final data. The answers came spewing up to his conscious level.
He knew what he had to do.
Twenty-three hours the
Ram
drifted downwind, angling away from Iceland to the northeast. A gray speck on gray and foam. And behind her, barely submerged, the green surge of their tow, a sea monster escaped from the deep.
Ram
drifted downwind, angling away from Iceland to the northeast. A gray speck on gray and foam. And behind her, barely submerged, the green surge of their tow, a sea monster escaped from the deep.
In Ramsey's second watch they passed within two miles of a radioactive iceberg, probably broken from the skerries of the northeast Greenland coast. Ramsey kept radiation snoopers tuned to the limit until they were out of range. The berg, its random contours catching the wind like a sail, was almost quartering the gale. It pulled away from the
Ram
, like a majestic ship.
Ram
, like a majestic ship.
Ramsey noted in the log: “Current setting easterly away from our course. We did not cross the berg's path.”
Outside radiation: 1800 milli-R.
Garcia came across the control room. “Safe yet?”
“Clear,” said Ramsey.
Garcia looked to the screen on the control bulkhead, the view of gray rollers. “Moderating.”
“If the fog will just hold,” said Ramsey.
Sparrow came through the aft door, his lank form seemingly more loose-jointed than usual.
He's relaxed
, thought Ramsey.
That fits. What EP commander would dream of looking for us up here? We're too low in the water to show on a shore screen.
, thought Ramsey.
That fits. What EP commander would dream of looking for us up here? We're too low in the water to show on a shore screen.
“All quiet, Skipper,” he said.
“Very good,” said Sparrow. He looked to the timelog: nine days, three hours, and forty-seven minutes. “Joe, how long since you've had a signal from our friends?”
“Not a sign of them for almost ten hours.”
Sparrow glanced at the sonoran chart. The red dot stood at sixty-six degrees, nine minutes, twenty seconds North Latitude, two degrees, eleven minutes West Longitude. He nodded to Ramsey. “Get us underway, if you please. Surface speed. Quarter throttle. Keep us under eight knots.”
Ramsey moved to obey.
The
Ram
shuddered to a wave impact, fought up the slope of a sea. They gathered headway, sluggishly.
Ram
shuddered to a wave impact, fought up the slope of a sea. They gathered headway, sluggishly.
“She answers the helm, sir,” said Ramsey.
Sparrow nodded. “Course thirteen degrees. We've drifted a bit too close to the Norwegian coastline. The EPs have shore-based listening posts there.”
Ramsey brought the subtug around on her new heading.
“We'll stay on the surface as long as we have fog,” said Sparrow.
“Our guardian angels are working overtime,” said Garcia.
“I wonder if they have a union?” asked Ramsey.
Sparrow looked to the timelog: nine days, four hours even. He caught Garcia's attention, nodded toward the timelog and then the helm. “Take over, if you please, Joe.”
Garcia took the helm from Ramsey.
“You are relieved,” said Sparrow.
Ramsey felt a wave of fatigue sweep through him. He remembered what he had to do, fought down the tiredness. “We'll be there soon,” he said.
Sparrow frowned.
“None too soon for me,” said Ramsey. “I feel like we're living on borrowed time. I want our payment in the bankâa whole load of that sweet oil.”
“That will be enough,” said Sparrow.
“You afraid I'm going to give away a nasty old Security secret?” asked Ramsey.
Garcia darted a puzzled glance at him.
“Go to your quarters,” said Sparrow.
“Righto,” said Ramsey, copying Garcia's accent. He made his tone as insolent as possible without coming to actual insubordination, turned toward the aft door.
“I'll wish to speak with you before your next watch,” said Sparrow. “We're long overdue for an understaâ” He broke off as a red warning light flashed on the reactor system's scram board. The light winked green, then red, then green.
Garcia saw it, too.
Ramsey turned back to the control bulkhead, caught the last flash from red to green.
“Something's loose in the pile room,” said Sparrow.
“That torpedo shock we took,” said Ramsey.
“More likely the pounding we've had from these seas,” said Garcia.
“That's circuit âT' of the secondary damper controls,” said Sparrow. “Right side forward. Get Les up here on the double.”
Garcia pushed the alarm buzzer.
“Try the screens,” said Sparrow.
Ramsey moved back to the helm, took it. Garcia glanced at him, moved to the screen controls, began hitting switches.
Bonnett entered. “What's up?”
“Something loose in the pile room,” said Sparrow. “It's âT' circuit.”
“Right side forward,” said Bonnett. He moved to get a better view of the screens, caught the handrail to steady himself against the rolling of the deck.
Sparrow said, “I'm going forward.” He looked at the scram board. The light winked at him: red, green, red, green, red, green ⦠“Les, come forward with me and help me into a suit. I'll have to crawl the right-side tunnel, use the manuals and mirrors.”
“Just a minute, Skipper,” said Garcia. “Look at that.” He pointed at a screen.
Sparrow stepped to his side.
“Central damper controls,” said Garcia. “See. When we pitch into the trough of a wave it seems toâThere!”
They all saw it. The long hanging arm of the manual damper control swung free like the multi-jointed leg of an insect. It exposed a break at the top elbow hinge. The upper bracing flapped outward to the sway of the boat.
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