The Best of Philip E. High by High Philip E

Author:High, Philip E. [High, Philip E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780575110557
Publisher: Gateway
Published: 2011-09-29T05:00:00+00:00

He couldn’t remember afterwards whether he swore aloud or not. He could not remember if he was staggered by what he saw or if it was like the image he had inwardly imagined.

The thing was black, shaped like an elongated pear drop and perhaps a hundred and thirty feet in length. There was no suggestion of ports or openings in its dull unreflecting surface but astern at the narrow end, the water boiled and steam rushed upwards in a high white column. There was no sign of flame or smoke and yet, despite the brightness of the sun, there was the suggestion of immeasurable heat.

Sort of spaceship, he thought dully. Only it floats. They’re using their tubes as a drive.

The vessel was moving forward, creating a slight bow wave and probably making about eight knots.

As he watched she turned abruptly, almost but not quite, retracing her previous course. She was obviously looking for something—the wreckage of a submarine perhaps?

Harvey’s half formed thought was never completed. Somewhere within the submarine there was a distinct ping.

Mendel breathing seemed to stop abruptly and Harvey felt the muscles in his face stiffen with an unpleasant numbing sensation. Almost everyone on board would know what that ping meant. Asdic, some sort of underwater detection device.

For a moment he almost panicked but forced his mind to calmness. “Think, man, think.”

Suddenly his thoughts became clear and logical, moving from one point to another with almost startling clarity.

Three of the things had hunted him last night but there had been no pings then, today it was different. The answer was suddenly clear in his mind. They knew he was here but beneath the surface they had no means of finding him but they were smart enough to improvise something overnight. Their asdic, or whatever it was, had been jury-rigged in a few hours and was now being tried out. Actually pinpointing him might take a little time.

“Stand by forward torpedo tubes.” His voice seemed quite normal and matter-of-fact but his mind was racing. Eight knots—how much did the thing draw, twelve feet—fifteen, better give the torpedoes a surface setting. He began to give orders in a clear voice, his hands surprisingly steady on the periscope grips.

The vessel was still cruising slowly in a dead straight line, coming across his bows at green O.

“Fire one!”

The submarine lurched slightly and there came the familiar rumbling sound of a released torpedo yet somewhere within and above the noise was another ping.

“Fire two!” Mentally he counted up to four then shouted “Dive!” He had no intentions of watching the results through the periscope: if the torpedoes missed, an enemy as advanced as that would not be slow in tracing them to their source. He had already decided that the enemy, whoever they were, technically outclassed his own culture by about fifteen hundred years, if not more.

As they went down at a steep angle, there was a perceptible thud.

“One,” he thought, with grim satisfaction. “Unless they’re too tough to hurt.”

There was another thud, this time more pronounced and he suddenly found himself flung heavily against Mendel.

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