Back In Blue

by G R Matthews

  "What are you doing?" Norah screamed at me.

  "Don't talk, just drive," I called back.

  The second arm was trickier as Norah was forced to accommodate the pressure of the closing door, pushing the motors on the left side of the sub harder to maintain a position. The sub shuddered and rocked as we continued to drop. In my hand the little joystick, and this was the wrong time for my mind to start firing double-entendres at me, waggled back and forth. On the screen, the pincer at the end of the arm scraped across the door and I was forced to reset my approach.

  On the third try, the pincer made contact and pressed the button which clamped the pincer around it. Watching the readouts carefully, I balanced the power between the two arms, trying to keep the sub equidistant between the slowly closing doors.

  "A few more metres," Norah said, her words escaping between gritted teeth.

  On my screens the power readouts started to encroach upon the red zone and I could feel little jitters run through the sub's frame.

  "Keep going," I said, diverting a little power from the right arm to the left.

  "We're not going to make it," she said.

  "Plenty of room," I said, trying to sound confident.

  The scream of metal on metal as we scraped through the just open doors, gave a lie to my words.

  "Well, just about enough room," I admitted.

  The sub jerked to a halt.

  "Maybe not," I said. "Shit."

  "The arms, Hayes," Norah said, pushing and swiping at the screens in front of her.

  "Right." I should have known that. The arms were pretty much folded along our length, keeping the doors open but now acting as a wedge to our escape. The menu on the arm controls was a reasonably standard affair and I found the quick release selection, stabbing it with an outstretched finger.

  There was a sudden wallowing of the sub and feeling of weightlessness as the submarine sank through the doors leaving the two robotic appendages behind. We were truly armless now.

  "Norah, are the Carbon Dioxide filters working?"

  "Are you all right?" she said, turning the sub in the direction of home, I hoped, and goosing the engines to their maximum speed.

  "Bit light headed is all," I answered, checking the environmental controls and noting that the air was perfectly fine. Just me then, which was strangely reassuring.

  I shut the cameras down, there was little point using up power to look at the dark of the sea. A quick scroll through the menus and I found the section shutting down the navigation lights, an archaic health and safety feature if ever there was one. I also switched off any beacons, subsystems which swallowed power to little gain and, for good measure, the interior lights too.

  Shifting to the other seat, I brought up the sensor screens and set the onboard computer to making sense of the sounds around us. There were some defensive systems buried in the menus. A few decoys and little tricks which a small sub could use in an emergency.

  "You plotted a course?" I asked Norah, as I stared at the sensor screen.

  "Straight line at the moment," she said. "Want to get as far away from here, as quick as I can."

  "Makes sense," I answered, but there were several flaws in that plan. "I've got the map here. Give me a moment and I'll throw you some course corrections."

  It was strange not to be driving, but having little say in my destiny was a feeling I knew well. Drawing my Fish-Suit computer from my trouser pocket, I connected it to the sub's systems by plugging it into the handy port. Computers generally spoke the same language, one I didn't pretend to understand, and I gave my computer authorisation to talk to the sub's. I'm sure their first meeting was awkward, a few embarrassed hellos, a shy gaze, flickering of eyelashes before they got down to some serious flirting.

  All that took a few micro-seconds and confirmation flashed up on my screen. Without delay, I transferred the map of the city's sensor net I'd built on our way in to the sub's systems. Pushing that onto Norah's map screen, I heard her grunt and the sub yawed a little to the right.

  "They'll hear us no matter what," she said without turning.

  "I know, but if we can avoid the major concentrations of sensors, we'll make it a little harder for them."

  A series of alarms blared from all three stations.

  "They've fired on us," Norah shouted, her voice cracking.

  "Got it," I said. On my screen the fast-moving arrow of a torpedo leapt from the blurred outline of the city and began to follow us. "Can you go any faster?"

  No matter how fast we went the torpedo would be faster. Even so, the note from the engine rose to a high whine as Norah drew power from elsewhere and pushed it through the motor. Too long like this and it would burn out and we'd be dead in the water. Of course, if the torpedo caught us we'd be dead anyway.

  "That's all its got," Norah called.

  The interesting, if morbid, thing about torpedoes is that they don't actually have to hit you. An explosion nearby will send shrapnel a distance, but much worse are the pressure waves which sweep out. They'll batter a sub to pieces, cracking the hull along seams, damaging motors, and giving the occupants a serious headache.

  "Take us down," I said, my eyes fixed and focused on the screen where I'd overlain my map with the sensor feed. "Head for that lump of sensors at bearing 347."

  She didn't answer, but the submarine turned and nosed down toward the sea bed. The helpful and terror inducing beep of the alarms sped up as the torpedo closed in.

  "Hayes," Norah said, her voice had cracked and now settled into a calm acceptance, "do something."

  "I am," I replied, not taking my eyes from the screen and my finger hovered over a button to my left. "Almost there. Norah, when I shout turn sharp right and give the engines full power for a few seconds then shut them off."

  "What?" I know that she turned to stare at me, I could feel her eyes bore into the side of my head, but I didn't look away.

  "Three... two... one... Now!"

  I pressed the button and a decoy shot out of the rear of the sub and Norah did as I'd said, turning the sub as fast as it would allow. There was nothing left to do but cross my fingers and hold my breath.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  A few heartbeats later and I heard the decoy spring to life. Millions upon millions of bubbles were being created and forced out through tiny little holes in the sides of the cannister of super-compressed air I'd ejected from the sub. The sound would have, if you were swimming close by, been deafening. Underwater, sound becomes sight, the most useful and relied upon sense, and the torpedo which sought to end our lives relied upon it to find its target. Us.

  All those bubbles leaving the decoy and popping in a raucous cacophony should confuse the torpedo's tracking. With luck, it would be so confused that it followed the decoy and explode near that, not us.

  I felt the submarine pitch and roll before I heard the sound of the explosion. My head bounced off the screen in front of me leaving a smear of red and I was thrown back against the seat, wrenching my back in the process. Really should have strapped ourselves in. My brain burped and the image of gold and blue shirted officers on the bridge of some great starship being flung left and right bubbled up. Seatbelts. Should have had seatbelts.

  The sub settled and, though my ears were numb and eyes were seeing double, I could make out Norah pull herself up from the floor and clamber back into the pilot’s seat.

  "Quietly," I shouted and hoped she could hear me. "Slow and quiet. Hug the sea floor."

  My eyes swam a little and gradually came back into focus upon the map screen ahead of me. I wiped the blood from the screen which blurred the image and pressed a careful finger to my temple. It came away red. Head wounds bled a lot, even from little cuts. I’d be fine.

  "But the sensor array," Norah began.

  "Will have been shut down," I crossed my fingers, "by that explosion. They'll need to reboot, restart and reconfigure it before it is any use again."

  "How far are we from the city?"


  "Just over a kilometre," I admitted.

  "That's not a lot."

  "Maybe not," I said, selecting a course, marking waypoints on the map and throwing it to Norah's screen. "But if we follow this path, and we're lucky, we'll be out of range of their best sensors in a few minutes."

  The distance that took us hours to walk, would be minutes to the sub. There'd be some confusion in the city. Would they know who had escaped? Would they find Abrahams and look after him? How much did they want this sub back in one piece? It wouldn't last long. Someone would take charge and they'd sift the ocean until they found us, so it was a balancing act between speed and stealth.

  If they knew it was us, and they would as soon as they found Abrahams, they knew where we would be heading. Were we a prize worth the challenge of capturing? Out in the ocean, away from the shipping lanes there were millions of square kilometres to hide in if you were small, quiet and had all the time in the world.

  These small subs used fusion power cells, harvesting hydrogen from the ocean when needed and that was rarely, so could theoretically keep moving forever. Food and water were a bigger issue, but it was standard to have a week’s worth of rations and fresh water on a sub. This one was built for a crew of four. Three on duty, one resting on a rotation, if it was fully complemented and on a long job. There'd be plenty of uninspiring food for Norah and me, if we could clear the city's range.

  However, and there was always an however, we were in a VKYN sub with no way of communicating with NOAH unless we found a data cable we could tap into. Those though, and the problems kept on coming, would be shielded and in war time the encryption was stronger and tougher. If we could get a message to NOAH it was likely they wouldn't believe us. Running into a fleet out here was a slim chance and even then, they were likely to blow us out of the water before we could get a word in.

  Out of the frying pan into the freezing cold depths where death was a real possibility. We'd have been safer in the VKYN city. Once the beatings were done and we'd given every last bit of information they wanted, we'd have been well cared for in some naval prison or other. Three meals a day, regular exercise, warm and comfortable, it would have been a safer way to see out the war. There are times when I could really give myself a good kicking.

  The alarms wailed again and my eyes snapped to the sensor screen.

  "Fast mover," I called. "Torpedo. Bearing relative one sixty-three."

  "Hayes," Norah said, looking over her shoulder at me, "I hope you have a good idea this time.

  "One," I admitted, "and I'm not sure it's good."

  "Tell me," she said, her gaze returning to the navigation screens.

  "Increase speed to 8 knots," I said, "turn left seventeen degrees."

  "You want it behind us?" Her voice was incredulous. The motors were the largest noise emitter on the sub and I'd just asked her to give the torpedo a good look at them.

  "It's closing," I said unnecessarily. The sub turned a little and its speed increased. "Belt yourself in."

  I grabbed the seatbelt, drew the straps over my shoulder and clicked them all together. The little triangle of the torpedo changed course fixing on our tail and coming faster. We had a few seconds before it hit us.

  "Norah," I said, "here's what I want you to do." I laid out the basics of my ingenious, or suicidal plan depending on your point of view, for her. To the Ensign's credit she only used a few swear words to describe it but didn't fundamentally disagree.

  "When you're ready," she said as her hands flew across the control surfaces.

  "Here goes nothing," I muttered.

  "Wrong choice of words," she whispered as I stabbed the decoy button twice, a second apart.

  There was a hiss as they shot away from the sub. I'd programmed them a little different and crossed my fingers. As Norah did as I'd ordered and turned the sub once more at a right angle to the approaching torpedo, I made sure the airlock was full of air and locked the interior door.

  The first decoy burst into life. Bubbles popping in their billions and I saw the bloom of noise on the sensors. "Now, Norah."

  She pushed the engines hard for a second, nosed the sub down and cut the power. Inside the submarine, our little vessel, our mobile coffin, there was silence, both of us holding our breath. Outside the first decoy drew the torpedo off target, I saw the little triangle notch a degree or two towards it.

  A moment later it edged back our way. Someone in the city was wire guiding this one, as I'd thought they must to ensure a hit. The operator had correctly assumed the first decoy was, in truth, a decoy and overridden the onboard computer to change its course back to us.

  Now though we were silently drifting, though racing would be better term, towards the sea bed which around here was mostly soft silt, sand, and marine snow.

  The second decoy burst into life. A slower, elongated sound more reminiscent, I hoped, I was relying on hope a lot here, of the submarine motor. I'd sent it out on a different course, the one we had been taking before I'd had Norah make that sharp turn.

  I stared at the triangle as if I could make it turn by force of will. Turn it did, my powers must be growing stronger, or the officer in charge of the torpedo had made a snap decision. Either way the weapon cut across our tail, ignoring us totally, and went after the decoy.

  The explosion was louder than the last and the pressure wave much stronger. They'd packed that torpedo to kill. Every light in the sub went off and there was a fizzle of circuits shorting out. I clamped my hands around my head, taking what protection I could, as I bounced around in the seat. A moment later, the nose of the sub struck the sea floor and I felt it scrape out a furrow as it slowed and came to a stop.

  My ears rang and I found it hard to concentrate. The dark was absolute and I knew I should be doing something before the echoes of the explosion died away. What was it? It was something important. Vital. Part of my cunning plan.

  I slammed my hand down where my fuzzy memory said the manual release was. The submarine rocked once more as all the air in the airlock suddenly rushed out into the ocean. That was it. That was what I meant to do. Simulate, to the best of my improvisation, an explosive decompression.

  Now they just had to think they'd destroyed us. We could stay still for a time and sneak out when they weren't looking.

  "Norah? You all right?"

  She didn't respond.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  "Emergency lights," I called out and a dull red suffused the bridge.

  Norah was slumped forward across her console and she wasn't moving. In this low illumination, I couldn't see whether she was breathing and I scrabbled for the seatbelt release. Slapping it with my hand, much as I had done the airlock release, the belts slipped open and the pressure across my shoulders, chest, and waist eased.

  Pushing myself out of the chair, I staggered the two steps to the pilot's seat and pressed my fingers against Norah's neck. It was tempting to rush in these situations. Grab her by the shoulders and drag her back into the seat so I could get a look at her and any injuries. It would be the worst thing to do. If she had a back or neck injury, I would just make things worse. Better to take a few seconds to assess her condition and decide on the right course of action.

  There was a pulse. I felt the fast throb against my fingertips. She was alive. A good sign. I heard her groan.

  "Don't move," I said. I fumbled for one of the little torches which every sub had clipped somewhere on the bridge. Some pilots carried one in their jumpsuit on every journey, hoping they'd never need it. Some sort of custom, tradition, superstition which said if you had a torch you'd never need it. I wasn't carrying one and I needed light. Score one for superstition.

  I found it under the console, held in by a clip which I freed it from by the simple expedient of yanking it out. The white light of the beam cut through the red and turned muted colours into vibrant explanations of life and death. Across the console a dark pool of black changed to bright red and it spread up to the edge where it pool
ed before dripping to the floor.

  "You've got a head wound," I explained to her. "It's bleeding, but I've seen worse. Don't move. Let me get the first aid kit."

  She groaned and I saw her head move. Placing my hand gently on it, holding her down with as little force as I could. "Just a moment, Norah. You'll be fine."

  The first aid kit was strapped next to my chair and the Velcro, invented once and never improved upon, ripped apart with the strangely satisfying sound that only it could produce. I flipped the lip open and took out the neck brace. They'd been standard issue ever since Health and Safety had started impounding vehicles whose kits did not contain one. Hit a company in the capital investment and it'll open its petty cash for the cost of a few bits of life saving kit.

  I poked it under her neck, muttering soothing sounds all the while, and connected it loosely at the back, making sure I could get the instructed width of my palm between it and skin. Convinced I wasn't about to strangle her with the device, I hit the button and it inflated with pressurised air. Providing a solid and stiff structure to support her head, I was finally able to lift her from the console and rest her against the chair.

  Pressing the release with my foot, I made the chair recline and holding the torch between my teeth began to clean her face. Wipe after wipe became sodden with her blood and I dropped them on the floor. At last, I got a good look at the gash across her forehead.

  White bone peeked out between the pulses of blood and I shuffled through the kit dragging the coagulant pad out. I snapped the little vial hidden in the centre of the pad, releasing the medication, and pushed the pad against her wound. The sponge would soak up the blood and the chemicals inside would work their way through the material and aid the blood to clot.

  The wound wasn't my major concern. Head wounds are nasty for the trauma they cause to the brain. Concussion being the least of it. A bleed on the brain and there'd be nothing I could do. She needed a proper doctor.