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diff --git a/old/60922.txt b/old/60922.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2dbed8f..0000000 --- a/old/60922.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1093 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Murder Beneath the Polar Ice, by Hayden Howard - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Murder Beneath the Polar Ice - -Author: Hayden Howard - -Release Date: December 14, 2019 [EBook #60922] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MURDER BENEATH THE POLAR ICE *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - MURDER BENEATH THE POLAR ICE - - By HAYDEN HOWARD - - _The Arctic Sea was deadly in - every way--its icy water, crushing - ice, avid beasts. Still something - there was more lethal than these!_ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1960. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Wavelets of cigarette smoke drifted across the comfortably lounging -enlisted men in the air-conditioned compartment of the Fleet Ballistic -Missile submarine, as they sat watching Barney. Sweat streaming from -his swollen-veined forehead, hurried and grotesque in his black rubber -diving suit, exploding triumphant curses like underwater demolition -charges, Barney finished tightening the control cables of what -resembled a torpedo with two open cockpits. "_This_ time the little -gal raises her hydroplanes!" - -At this contrast of men, the Murderer had to grin, but carefully in -order not to sweat and ruin the insulating qualities of his three -woolen layers of longjohns. The submariners seemed quiet-talking and -cooperative, as well adjusted as sardines in a can. The diver, Barney, -was foul-mouthed and fiercely individualistic, a wonderful guy--his -diving buddy. - -A legend in his own time, Barney was reputed to have arisen from the -mine-strewn waters of the Korean coast at the time of the Wonsan-Inchon -landings to give advice to General MacArthur. - -As an Underwater Demolition Team diver, Barney dated clear back into -the Murderer's childhood recollections of World War II, to dim names -like Kwajalein and Guam, where former Seabees became combat divers to -wire and blast Japanese underwater obstacles and leave welcoming signs -for the Marines. - -Barney was only quiet about two things, his age and his circumference. -He still fancied himself a baseball catcher, and his stubby fingers -showed the deleterious effects of grabbing at foul tips with a bare -hand, but those same fingers could expertly repair a wristwatch and the -automatic transmission of an admiral's car and hock one and "borrow" -the other. - -Barney had managed to put his homely younger sister through college -and was now maneuvering to marry her off to a lieutenant commander on -the staff of Admiral Rickover. And he could expertly joke the fears out -of his diving buddy. - -Winking at his comfortably smoke-filled audience, Barney dumped a -sack of non-magnetic tools into the forward cockpit of the minisub he -personally had built, and cocked his head. - -"Murderer, here, is hoping the villain is a sea serpent. Don't laugh, -you sea horses. The latest scuttlebutt from Alaska has it that every -time a picket buoy goes dead out here under the ice, the last sound it -broadcasts is a sort of toothy crunch." - - * * * * * - -He pushed the joke a little further. "Turn your periscopes on the blade -Murderer's wearing! John Paul Jones used to issue those for cutlasses! -Murderer's hoping to fight the sea serpent hand to hand." - -His grin widening with embarrassment, the Murderer felt called upon to -retort. "I'll give you a better suspect for stealing our picket buoys. -Santa Claus. These are his territorial waters. Are you aware that in -the Middle Ages Santa Claus was the patron saint of thieves?" - -"Now, Mr. College Boy," Barney began, "you just want to show us you -also studied history, not just marine biology. This boy will even tell -you a long Latin name for a little something that floats like dandruff -in the water." A touch of pride appeared in Barney's voice. "He can -tell you its whole life history and what eats it and why it's important -and why it will be a lot more important fifty years from now when -_your_ kids will need a lot more food from the sea." - -There was a perceptible slowing, and the weird sound from the atomic -submarine's heat-exchanger muted. Barney glanced at his pressure-proof -watch. The Murderer tensed. - -"This college boy may look like a tennis player," Barney went on as if -nothing had happened, "but in the water, when Murderer sees something -swimming down there, he doesn't care how big it is. We were installing -the broadcast aerial from a picket buoy up through ice, and Murderer -had just retracted the magnesium flare pole, so I'm half-blinded. I -look down. I see something so big I want to get out of there on a -bicycle. But down Murderer swims with the magnesium flare in one hand -and his cutlass in the other. It's a shark as big as a small whale. -The flare hypnotizes it, and round and round they go, with Murderer -stabbing away, letting in sea water, until that shark bugs out of there -like a bare-bottomed boy from a swarm of bumblebees!" - -The Murderer studied his depth gauge to cover his embarrassment. The -reason the shark had been so big was that it belonged to a species with -the whale-like habit of straining the water for minute crustaceans. It -was harmless and had winced from his first thrust. Then its shagreen -hide had tensed to armor-toughness, and it had been like trying to stab -a submarine. It left because it had no reason to stay. - -"I'm _relieved_," one of the submariners laughed, "that stabbing _fish_ -is how he got the name Murderer." - -"Not only fish," Barney went on enthusiastically. "This boy almost got -himself court-martialed. We're working from the icebreaker, out from -Point Barrow, diving from a whaleboat, and before the Annapolis ensign -can say a word, Murderer's over the side. We put our face-plates in -the water. He's bubbling down on a walrus! I swear, he rides it like a -bucking horse. You need a long blade in the arctic. And ugly--when we -bent a cable to that walrus from the icebreaker, the walrus stalled the -winch!" - -"What about tusks?" a submariner's voice asked. - - * * * * * - -The Murderer had been well aware of tusks. For three days he had been -studying the walrus herd with fascination. These staring-eyed, noisy -mammals were living in icy water that would numb and kill a man in a -few minutes. - -Some of them were diving to clam beds more than two hundred and fifty -feet down, where their bodies were subjected to a pressure of more than -eight atmospheres. In shallower water, where cockles predominated, he -had actually observed them raking the muddy bottom with their tusks and -rising with great disintegrating masses of mud and shells between their -flippers. Few men had ever seen that. - -He marveled at the evolutionary process by which some primitive land -mammal of the Eocene Period had become the walrus. - - * * * * * - -Why he had swum down and attacked a walrus, he did not know. Afterward -he felt ashamed, not just because it was a dumb thing to do and he'd -had three ribs cracked and should have been killed; not because it -was a show-off thing, with sailors urging him to stand in front of -its hoisted body so they could take pictures for their girl friends; -not because Barney lost his appetite for a couple of days and didn't -seem very eager to dive near the herd. What bothered him was the -indescribable feeling he'd had as he swam down with his knife to the -walrus, a feeling closer than hunger.... - -"When we get back, I'll show you the photographs," Barney was insisting -proudly. "When they assigned this boy as my diving buddy, they sent his -name along, Murderer. If it swims. Murderer will go down after it, they -said. And they weren't lying." - -But that was _not_ how the name originated. Sitting there in the -drifting cigarette smoke, feeling the sweat soak through his longjohns, -the Murderer wished the submarine's commander would hurry up and decide -on a position, let them out of the boat, get it over with. - -Probably by now, even the guys who were in U.D.T. training with him -believed he got the name by murdering fish. - -_They_ gave the name to him, but it was during an orientation meeting -with diagrams and graphs and talk of megatons and current-borne -radioactivity and a model of an atomic depth charge on the table. An -incredulous revulsion had come over him, this mindlessly mechanical can -of death that could poison, could make _useless_ two billion struggling -years of life, all wasted, single-celled ancestors, diatoms, copepods, -wondrous fish. - -During the discussion, he had kept exclaiming: "It's _murder_! It's -_murder_!" This was how he had acquired his name. - -"Hey, Murderer," one of the submariners laughed. "You should cut off a -sea serpent steak for the skipper. I bet he'd go for one." - -"Speaking of murderers," the Murderer blurted, suddenly detesting the -name, raising his clean-cut, angrily intelligent face, flooding his -longjohns with angry sweat, "you all are potential murderers--on a big -scale. Let's say ten thousand victims apiece. I kill a few fish, so I'm -a murderer? But you are all gears and cogs of a mass production murder -mechanism called a Fleet Ballistic Missile submarine. An impersonal -machine that--" - -"Not impersonal," the commander's voice said clearly as he came into -the compartment. "This boat is just another tool for survival--like a -shield or spear. Men make the decisions for it." - - * * * * * - -Barney said in an attempt to ease the tension, "You want us to bring -you any ice cubes, Commander?" - -The commander's gray eyes studied Barney's red-veined ones. "Just -bring yourselves back, Barney. We'll settle for that." He touched the -minisub. "All I can say is we _think_ we're in the sector where the -picket buoys shorted out. There've been such meager appropriations -for hydrographic surveys in the Arctic Ocean, we haven't a very clear -picture of fathometer landmarks even in this sector. So the navigator -has depended pretty heavily on his dead reckoning and inertial -navigation. What I'm getting at is don't spend too much time looking. -Use conservative search patterns. Give yourself plenty of margin to -find your way home to us. We'll do our best to hold this position." - -Slowly, the commander smiled. "We'll keep the coffee hot until you get -back." - -The Murderer watched them roll the minisub along on its cradle and into -the chamber. From the stern, the minisub looked less like a torpedo. -Instead of the compact round propeller blades associated with high -speeds under water, the minisub had long narrow blades which might have -looked more appropriate on a Wright Brother's airplane. These would -unwind through the water so slowly there would be no cavitation, no -tell-tale bubbling sounds. - -"One last thing," the commander said, including the Murderer in his -gray gaze. "No aggressive action. If you should meet--someone--break -off contact in a dignified manner and come home." - -Strangely, the commander smiled again and glanced at his watch. -"Right about now, my two kids are waking from their afternoon naps -and running out into the backyard in their underpants to swing on the -swings. No aggressive action, O.K.?" - -The Murderer felt thankful he was not the commander--with the -responsibility for sixteen hydrogen-warheaded Polaris missiles on his -back. - -Weighted down by his air tanks, the Murderer crawled into the chamber -beside the minisub and reached into the stern cockpit. He unreeled a -few feet of the red wire and plugged it into the chest socket of his -electric suit warmer. Out there, you couldn't search very long without -battery heat from the minisub. - -Automatically checking his full-face mask, he connected with the black -wire and tested his throat mike, earplug circuit. "One--two--three--" - -"Four--shut the door," Barney's voice croaked weirdly. For complicated -two-man disassemblies underwater, the traditional hand signals were not -enough. The minisub acted as a telephone exchange. - - * * * * * - -Turning from the minisub, Barney plugged into the telephone connection -in the wall of the chamber, giving them the word. From the way the -Arctic Ocean, fire-hosed into the chamber, the Murderer guessed they -had at least a hundred feet of water standing on them. This captain -had no intention of smashing his periscopes on pack ice. - -Wryly, the Murderer grinned while the water crept up his body. He knew -the limiting factor in their search for a picket buoy, any picket -buoy, was the survival time in their air tanks. As for the minisub, -it had the capability of keeping their corpses warm for several hours -thereafter. With its gyroscope efficiently clicking commands to the -rudder, it would maintain a straighter course than any man could steer. -If it could eat fish and reproduce itself.... - -The waterline rose above his glass face-plate. On the curved ceilings -of the chamber, the air shrank into a squirming bubble. The pressure -had been equalized. There was a cold metallic screech as Barney opened -the outer hatch into the Arctic Ocean. - -Valving an additional hiss of compressed air into the minisub's forward -flotation tank, the Murderer gave it a gentle push and rode it out, his -hand on the air release valve now to prevent the increasingly buoyant -minisub from falling upward against the white-glaring underside of the -ice pack. - -"There's a hell of a current up here," Barney's voice croaked. - -The Murderer glanced down, and his free arm clutched the cockpit in -an anthropoidal fear-reflex of falling. The water was that clear. Down -there, the submarine seemed to drift away like a great dirigible in the -wind, but the Murderer knew the minisub was actually doing the drifting. - -"Tinker carefully with your gyroscope, Mr. Navigator," Barney laughed, -"and we'll go take a look for your sea serpent." - -He gave Barney a straight course into the current. The Murderer had had -nightmares of being lost under the arctic ice pack. - -"Keep an eye peeled on the ice," Barney muttered, but the -Murderer kept both eyes on the instruments and gave Barney a -one-hundred-eighty-degree change of course, trying to determine the -speed of the current. - -"One way's as good as another," Barney laughed. - -Unfortunately, this had to be a visual search. The drawing-board boys -had designed the picket buoys so they would _not_ be detected, and -thoughtfully made them self-destroying in case they were. If anywhere -near, a submarine would be recorded, and the under-ice warning system -had actually worked against their own submarines. But the picket buoys -in this sector, one by one, had died without a warning sound except, -as scuttlebutt would have it, a toothy crunch. - -"This pack ice has changed," Barney's voice muttered. - -Barney and the Murderer had been one of the diving teams out there -when a submarine ejected the buoys beneath the polar ice. A buoy -would squirt from a torpedo tube. When the non-magnetic float struck -the underside of the ice, metal rods clutched upward like the legs -of a spider clinging to the ice. A thread-like cable lowered the -tiny instrument capsule into the depths. The capsule's small size -was intended to foil typical mine detection sonar, while the float -was supposed to merge with irregularities of sonic reflection on the -underside of the ice. Some admiral had even ordered the floats painted -white, but they still cut off light and appeared dark from beneath the -ice. - - * * * * * - -After the divers had melted a quick hole through two or three feet -of pack ice and extended the whip-like aerial into the polar air, -headquarters could keep track of the drifting buoy's location. -Intermittently, for the classified number of years the batteries were -supposed to last, each buoy would broadcast its own identification -code, only coming through with a high wattage warning when its -instrument capsule in the depths of the Arctic Ocean was awakened. -The joker here, the Murderer thought, was that the aerials might be -hard to see, but any simple fool could make himself a radio location -finder. _Live_ buoys could be hunted from the surface ice. - -"How dry I am," Barney's voice croaked unmusically, "how dry I be, -nobody knows--nobody cares--" - -Now the white underside of the ice drooped in downward bulges, -indicating thicker masses of old ice that had been frozen into the -pack. The Murderer saw the gray outline of driftwood entombed in this -old ice. - -"Drift ice from the Siberian rivers," Barney croaked. "When we planted -the picket buoys, our sector didn't have any of this." - -The Murderer looked down at his instruments, preparing to change course. - -"My God, look!" Barney's voice croaked, and his black rubber arm -pointed upward. - -The Murderer's breathing stopped as he made out something quivering up -there. "What is it?" - -"Animal, vegetable or mineral," Barney wheezed. "If it's animal, I -don't want to be around when whatever laid these _eggs_ comes back." - -Swaying up there on the underside of the ice in a gelatinous mass at -least twenty feet across, it resembled a mass of gigantic frog's eggs. - -But the Murderer decided there was too great a variation in size for -them to be eggs. Those nearest the outside of the mass seemed clearer, -more transparent, than the surrounding gelatinous substance. The -Murderer's excitement began to fade. - -"They're not eggs," he said disappointedly. "I think they're only -bubbles encased in some sort of soft plastic." - -"Mineral," Barney said with some relief in his voice. "Now I see that -dark part in the middle has the shape of a can. The bubbles must be to -float a mine or secret mechanism," his voice ended excitedly. Barney -wanted nothing to do with live things; he liked mechanical devices that -clicked and buzzed and could be taken apart and then put back together. - -He eased the minisub up toward the gelatinous mass. - -"Don't bring the minisub too close," the Murderer gasped, imagining a -mechanical click as the impersonal gadgetry within the can detected -their approach and cocked the lifeless steel prongs of a detonator. - -Barney laughed in excited contrast. "Even our air tanks are -non-magnetic. Or if it's hydrophonic, the noise level to set it off -would have to be plenty high, because of all the crunching sounds every -day in the ice. I'm going to find out what it is." - -Barney rose from his cockpit, trailing his green-stained canvas bag of -non-magnetic tools. - -"You're not going to cut into it, are you?" the Murderer cried. - -"That's what the taxpayers pay me for--to protect them from--you name -it. Murderer, you sail the minisub off until all my telephone cable is -out. Just like when we practiced disarming our picket buoys, I'll tell -you every move I make." - -"If it's a mine," the Murderer said, "I'll be as flattened as you." - -"Take notes on your navigational pad. I'll start with a little -experimental cut into the jello. We can't go off and leave this thing; -we'd never find it again. And it wouldn't be exactly smart to tow it to -our submarine until we know what its insides are supposed to do." - - * * * * * - -Barney's black rubber arm was sawing vigorously up and down. "This -jello's tougher than it looks. Very ingenious. I'll bet this was a -compact little bundle when a submarine ejected it into the water. -Probably sea water makes it swell--and chemicals fizz inside so that -the bubbles appear and float the can up to the underside of the ice. - -"This is important," Barney's voice croaked on. "I've come to some thin -shiny wires. They seem to be all through the jello and to curve back -in toward the can." - -The Murderer clenched his hand. He could feel the tendons and imagine -the wonderfully intricate nerves of his living hand. He'd been -frightened many times under the sea. Occasionally divers talked about -which way they'd rather go. Nitrogen narcosis was popular among the -heavy drinkers. Barney's choice--a nice close mine explosion because -it would be so quick. They thought the Murderer was crazy when he -said he'd rather be eaten by a Great White Shark than smashed by some -miserable explosive gadget. - -"Now I'm spreading two wires apart," Barney said calmly, "but I've left -a layer of gelatin around each of them. I will not cut the wires and -I'll try not to let them touch each other." - -Gradually his head and shoulders disappeared up into the gelatinous -mass. - -"Don't snag your tanks or regulator on a wire," the Murderer breathed. - -"Now I'm cutting within a few inches of the base of the can." Only -Barney's kicking legs showed. "My air is filling the cut--and I'm -going--to open a--chimney." Bubbles emerged from the side of the -swaying mass. - -"Suppose this thing is atomic," the Murderer said. "It would crush our -ballistic missile sub from here." - -"This is peacetime, boy. Nobody's fool enough to let an atomic mine go -drifting around with the ice." - -The Murderer looked down at the hard metal shell of the minisub. You -could blast and smash it, and it would still be metal. You even could -vaporize it, and its atomic particles would be somewhere--or changed -into energy--but nothing really lost, because it had never been alive. -The Murderer thought of the commander's two kids waking from their -naps. It had taken life two billion years to get that far, and it all -could be lost. Right now, was Barney committing _aggressive_ action? - -He thought again of that orientation class where they theoretically -learned how to disarm an unexploded atomic depth charge. He had -expressed his feeling that these atomic charges were _murder_. The -fools had laughed and begun calling him Murderer. - -"The bottom of this can is as blank," Barney said, "as a sailor in one -of those modern art museums. I'm going to cut my way along the side of -the can and see what I can see." - -A little fish, perhaps lost from its school, peered into the Murderer's -glass face-plate. Its wondrous eye grew inquisitively larger, and he -thought of the millions of cooperating cells that made up its eye and -optic nerve and receiving brain and the marvel that the individually -drifting cells of two billion years ago could have achieved this. - -There was a contradiction, he thought. He was amazed by life and yet he -speared fish. Did he enjoy feeling life wriggle on the end of his spear? - -"I've reached the top," Barney's voice croaked. "There's a rod -here--get this, a vertical rod. It extends up into the ice like with -the aerials of our picket buoys. I knew it wasn't a mine. This is -how they plan to detect our atomic submarines. This will make a very -interesting present for Admiral Rickover--" - -At this instant there was a darkening slap against the Murderer's mask. -His eardrums burst inward. His intestines squeezed up into his chest -from the force of the underwater explosion. He blacked out. - - * * * * * - -Ice water seared his face. He was drowning. Convulsively, his hand -groped for his mask. The glass was intact. His hand dragged the mask -back to a proper fit upon his face, and compressed air forced out the -sea water. He could feel the telephone cord pulling at his mask. - -Everything was blinding white, and he realized he was belly up beneath -the ice. "Barney?" - -The telephone wire began to drag him down head first, and he went down -it hand over hand toward the slowly sinking minisub. "Barney?" - -Further down, he saw Barney's black rubber suit spread-eagled and -sinking, and he swam clumsily down past the minisub. He clutched -Barney's black rubber arm and dragged it toward the minisub. The black -rubber suit seemed to have no bones. Everything drooped and swayed as -he tried to fit Barney into the stern cockpit. When he wrapped Barney's -wires to tie him in, they came face to face. There was no glass in -Barney's mask. The glass had burst where the face had been. - - * * * * * - -Murderer's eyes narrowed in helpless rage at Barney's death. - -Dragging himself into Barney's forward cockpit, he valved air into the -minisub's forward flotation tank, raising the torpedo-like nose. It was -then that he saw them up there, silhouetted small and frog-like against -the blinding white ice, two divers. - -The two silhouettes were looking down at him, and he knew they had been -attracted by the explosion of their gelatinous picket buoy. He looked -all around for the dim gray outline of their submarine, but there was -no sign of their "home," and his gaze concentrated with wide-eyed -intensity on their black paddling shapes as his minisub rose from the -depths. - -He saw them exchange hurried hand signals. They began to swim away, -side by side, their fins fluttering rapidly now. They were swimming a -definite course, and still there was no sign of their submarine as his -minisub inexorably gained on them. - -Now that he had reached their altitude, he noticed they were already -tiring. One diver looked back, then swam frantically to catch up with -the other. Like a slow fighter plane, the minisub came in on them from -behind, and one diver pushed at the other. They again exchanged hand -signals, losing yards to the minisub, and one began to swim hard while -the other turned back, facing the minisub, raising his hand in what -appeared to be a courteous military salute. The minisub kept coming -straight at him. - -Then the diver spread his arms in a gesture of peace. The minisub's -torpedo-shaped nose rammed his belly. Unsheathing his long blade, the -Murderer struck. - -As the diver wriggled, the Murderer withdrew the blade and struck -again. Air bubbles streamed from the diver's chest with each exhalation -of breath as he backwatered. His expression seemed mild surprise as -the Murderer struck a third time, driving the blade down between the -man's neck and collar bone, pushing him deeper. The next blow smashed -the mask. Belatedly, the man's hand flurried, seeming to clutch at his -bubbles as he sank. - -The Murderer looked up. Far off under the ice, the other diver had -stopped, was looking down, watching, and the Murderer held up his -blade as a signal and turned the minisub upward, after him. This diver -took evasive action among the downward bulges of old Siberian ice and -suddenly vanished. - -Although there was no sky glare in the water, the Murderer supposed -the diver had found an open lead in the ice and would rather freeze to -death, or at least put up a fight from the edge of the ice, than die in -the water. - - * * * * * - -Valving more air into the minisub's flotation tanks, the Murderer -steered it rapidly up into the oddly round, oddly dim lead in the ice -pack. At the edge of his mask-vision he glimpsed a longish tubular -shape suspended in the water, but the minisub was rising too fast for -him to get a good look. The overbuoyant minisub bloomed above the -surface and sloshed back, rolling unsteadily while the film of water -slid off his mask without freezing and he saw. - -The white blur became the biggest twin-rotored copter he had ever seen, -squatting there on the ice, white except for its glass. Then his eyes -were attracted by motion, by the parka-clad men hauling the surviving -diver up on the ice. Other darkish figures were simply standing there, -some of them beginning to point. - -Behind them was a smaller helicopter with the loop-shaped aerial of -a radio location finder mounted atop its plastic dome. There was -something wrong with the sky, and the Murderer realized it was not the -sky. It was a vast white canvas dome, dimpling in the polar wind. The -unnatural circle in the ice and the equipment grouped around it all -were hidden from aerial observation. - -Pointing at him from the fuselage of the huge helicopter, and so close -that his eyes had avoided it, was a metal boom with a hoist cable -taut into the water, tethering something below the surface. Some of -the men were running toward the huge helicopter now. In front of them -at the edge of the ice lay shapeless bundles of what appeared to be -black rubberized canvas, and he wondered fleetingly if these contained -more of the soon-to-be gelatinous picket buoys. One of the figures was -aiming something at him. As the Murderer let air out of the flotation -tanks and swiftly sank, he realized it had not been a gun; it had been -a camera with a telephoto lens. - -He passed the tubular shape on the end of the cable. It was an -anti-submarine torpedo. When he sank deeper, he passed a cylinder -dangling from two black rubber-insulated cables. - -He valved compressed air back into the flotation tanks and came up -under the ice, so hazardously close he had to duck his head as he -steered a weaving course among the downward bulges of old Siberian ice. -Even though he had been deafened, he felt the sonar pulsing against the -ice, searching for him. Then he felt it knocking against the minisub, -pinging against his air tanks, thudding accusingly against his bones. -It followed him wherever he steered. - -He smiled blearily. This would be the ultimate if they unleashed the -expensively intricate homing torpedo--at one man riding a cheap minisub -constructed by a big-handed, happily singing petty officer on his own -time. He hoped they _would_ waste the torpedo on him. If he had to be -destroyed by a gadget, an infernal machine, at least it was better to -be killed as an individual rather than in a group so large he would be -nameless in death. - -Abruptly the sonar left him. They must have decided he was not going to -lead them back to his submarine. Now they were hurriedly ranging for -it. - -He cruised on and on with his dead cargo. - -Then he felt the echo of sonar from the submarine's hull. He must be -close. The helicopter, with its sonar system lowered into the water -like a fisherman's hook, had caught the Fleet Ballistic Missile -submarine. - -He could feel the submarine's sonar searching frantically. They would -be sounding for another submarine. He could imagine horror on the sonar -men's faces as they realized they couldn't detect anything at the -apparent source of the unidentified sonar that had caught them. - -The submarine's sonar caught something--him. - - * * * * * - -He steered directly into it and found the submarine. Bow into the -current, the gray undersea boat was still holding its position. The -Murderer guessed the commander had decided that the best move was no -move. - -Valving out air, he brought the minisub down, opened the outer hatch -and dragged the minisub into the water-filled chamber. A great -weariness had come over him and it was all he could do to lock the -hatch. He knocked on the bulkhead, while the persistent sonar pinging -went on and on. Someone tapped very gently, although they might as -well hammer with a wrench; it wouldn't make any difference now. The -Murderer realized they were waiting for him to plug into the telephone -socket and give his maximum depth and time spent there and other -decompression data he hadn't kept. They intended to decompress him as -if this were just another safe-and-sane training exercise. - -In the chamber lights, Barney's rubber suit had sagged over the side of -the minisub like a black rag doll. The Murderer averted his eyes and -plugged in. - -"One--two--three--" he said automatically. - -"Barney?" - -"Barney's dead." - -"This is the commander. There is a submarine out there. For some -reason, we can't locate it with our sonar. Have you seen it?" - -"Commander, it's a helicopter. They have an anti-submarine torpedo in -the water." - -"I'm having difficulty reading you--" - -"Helicopter. Anti-sub torpedo!" - -"Did they take any aggressive action against you?" - -"Depends on how you look at it. Their picket buoys are under here. -Barney tried to recover one. It was booby-trapped to destroy itself." - -"Barney?" the commander's voice persisted. - -"I told you he's dead! I got one of their divers." - -"One of their divers? He was attacking you?" - -"I killed him. He was trying to get away." - -There was a long pause. Only the persistent knocking of the giant -helicopter's sonar reached the Murderer's ear. - -When the commander spoke again, it was as if murder had been done. "Do -they know?" - -"The other one looked back. Sure they know. They know." - -"Then they may consider we're the ones who've taken aggressive action," -the commander said slowly. "We'll have to wait. If we move off, their -commanding officers on the spot may feel committed to local retaliatory -action. We'll have to wait while they're radioing for instructions. -We'll have to hope their side will decide to take this before an -international court." - -"Court? What sort of court? A murder court?" - -"Let's hope it's only one murder," the commander's voice came through -distantly, "and not one hundred million. We'll have to sit it out." - -As decompression began, the Murderer sank down beside Barney's body -in the water-filled chamber. Superimposed upon the commander's two -little kids, swinging on their swings, he saw the surprised face of the -diver--and even the little fish, lost from its school, and its wondrous -eye--two billion years of evolution waiting for a verdict of life or -death. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Murder Beneath the Polar Ice, by Hayden Howard - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MURDER BENEATH THE POLAR ICE *** - -***** This file should be named 60922.txt or 60922.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/9/2/60922/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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