The Collected Stories Of Arthur C. Clarke by Arthur C. Clarke

Author:Arthur C. Clarke [Clarke, Arthur C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, Short Story, Collection, Retail
Publisher: Orion
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Deep Range

First published in Argosy (UK), April 1954

Collected in Tales from Planet Earth

The concept of whale-herding is an idea whose time has not yet come, and I wonder if it ever will. Over the last decade, whales have had such excellent P.R. that most Europeans and Americans would sooner eat dog- or catburgers. I did tackle whalemeat once, during World War Two: it tasted like rather tough beef.

In 1957 I expanded this story into the novel of the same name.

There was a killer loose on the range. A ’copter patrol, five hundred miles off Greenland, had seen the great corpse staining the sea crimson as it wallowed in the waves. Within seconds, the intricate warning system had been alerted: men were plotting circles and moving counters on the North Atlantic chart – and Don Burley was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he dropped silently down to the twenty-fathom line.

The pattern of green lights on the tell-tale was a glowing symbol of security. As long as that pattern was unchanged, as long as none of those emerald stars winked to red, all was well with Don and his tiny craft. Air – fuel – power – this was the triumvirate which ruled his life. If any of them failed, he would be sinking in a steel coffin down toward the pelagic ooze, as Johnnie Tyndall had done the season before last. But there was no reason why they should fail; the accidents one foresaw, Don told himself reassuringly, were never the ones that happened.

He leaned across the tiny control board and spoke into the mike. Sub 5 was still close enough to the mother ship for radio to work, but before long he’d have to switch to the sonics.

‘Setting course 255, speed 50 knots, depth 20 fathoms, full sonar coverage…. Estimated time to target area, 70 minutes…. Will report at 10-minute intervals. That is all…. Out.’

The acknowledgement, already weakening with range, came back at once from the Herman Melville.

‘Message received and understood. Good hunting. What about the hounds?’

Don chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. This might be a job he’d have to handle alone. He had no idea, to within fifty miles either way, where Benj and Susan were at the moment. They’d certainly follow if he signalled for them, but they couldn’t maintain his speed and would soon have to drop behind. Besides, he might be heading for a pack of killers, and the last thing he wanted to do was to lead his carefully trained porpoises into trouble. That was common sense and good business. He was also very fond of Susan and Benj.

‘It’s too far, and I don’t know what I’m running into,’ he replied. ‘If they’re in the interception area when I get there, I may whistle them up.’

The acknowledgement from the mother ship was barely audible, and Don switched off the set. It was time to look around.

He dimmed the cabin lights so that he could see the scanner screen more clearly, pulled the polaroid glasses down over his eyes, and peered into the depths.

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