Hemi got Herschel launched, carrying instructions to Shakes to return to the Prospect submerged and running slowly on battery power. It was going to take a while for Herschel to find Shakes, and then a while longer for Shakes to motor quietly back. Hemi figured he had a couple of hours at least to gather the things he needed.
The magnetic warheads were in the crates he had left in the cargo hold. He selected a half dozen of the least-rusty ones and hauled them to a work-table in the engine room. Each weighed about twenty-five kilograms and consisted of a cylinder containing high explosives that was about three hundred millimeters in diameter. Attached to one end of the cylinder was a small-diameter device with the switching mechanism in it, and on top of that was a big plate with a magnet that was strong enough to activate the switching mechanism, but weak enough that it was not likely to actually adhere itself to the target. The magnet was intended to be a trigger, not an attaching component.
The devices were designed to be as simple as possible, with the idea that while a complex device could have more safety features, a simpler device could be understood and thus handled safely by any idiotic naval deckhand. Details were printed right on the side of the explosives cylinder.
Adjusting his glasses and reading this block of text, Hemi learned that the particular mix of high explosives the cylinder contained was held very stable by a cake of exoskeletons from extinct microscopic sea creatures. It could not be set off without providing power to the detonation switch and closing the arming circuit. At the same time, the explosive did not seem so finicky that it would not go off in the close presence of another high explosive. A fortunate thing, because Hemi estimated he needed to chain at least two of these devices to detonate if he wanted to blow a hole through the pressure hull of a military submarine.
He used large steel straps to join two of the cylinders together, orienting them so the magnetic trigger plates faced outwards on both ends. He tracked down some batteries in waterproof cases and wired them in as the power supplies for the triggers. In a forgotten storage compartment for parts in the engine room, he found a pile of old mechanical timed switches that could be wound up and the timer set for when they would close the circuit. He wired these into the arming circuit on each warhead.
He made three more doubled-up units like this. With two magnetic warheads strapped together, each weighed more than fifty kilograms. Then he plundered the many storage compartments throughout the boat, looking for the rest of the parts he needed: some old boat fenders, heavy line, air hoses and chucks, and his slide rule and clipboard. He wished he had some small clamps, but those were not to be found anywhere. He would have to make do with screw-tightened steel clips. So a screwdriver went on his list of things to find too.
He had gathered most of the parts he needed when he heard the bump of the Gnat attaching to the bottom of the Prospect. By the time Percy’s voice came over the PA a few minutes later to let him know Shakes was aboard, Hemi had recruited Gregory to help him move all his parts and equipment down to the Prospect’s battery compartment near the hatch to the Gnat.
As Gregory opened the hatch to see Shakes’s greasy-haired visage grinning up at them, Percy’s voice came back on the Prospect’s PA. “Hemi, Bastian is telling me that he is tracking the Grackle closing on us. He thinks they picked up the Gnat and followed Shakes in.”
Still down in the Gnat’s control seat, Shakes could hear the PA message. “Tell Percy there’s no fuckin’ way, man — I was ultra fucking slow and quiet on my approach. I could have passed through a sleeping baby’s bedroom without fuckin’ waking it.”
“They were pinging constantly,” Hemi replied, leaning over the hatch down to the Gnat to accept the small package of feathers, feet, and beak that Shakes was holding up to him. “They may have simply caught you in motion and followed the only moving object in the water. It cannot be helped now. Here, Gregory, stow Herschel somewhere safe, and then help me get these parts into the Gnat.”
“What’s the fuckin’ plan?” Shakes asked as he accepted some filthy old boat fenders down through the hatch and tossed them backward into the cargo space behind him.
“I am coming with you. If the Grackle is coming in, we need to get the Gnat off as quickly as possible. I will explain the plan on the way,” said Hemi.
Hemi had Shakes swap places with him, and standing down in the Gnat he received the heavy explosive units that a straining Gregory and Shakes lowered down to him. After that, it took only a matter of minutes to pass down all the remaining odds and ends into the smaller boat.
With everything aboard, Shakes climbed down and joined Hemi in the Gnat.
“I hope you didn’t fuckin’ forget anything,” Shakes said, looking at the pile of what appeared to be fundamentally garbage in the middle of his boat’s cargo space.
“If we need anything else, I am sure the copious bounty of the Gnat’s hold will provide,” Hemi replied.
Shakes grinned.
“If y’all have everything, I’m going to seal these fuckin’ hatches,” Gregory called down from the Prospect.
Hemi shuffled his big body forward in the cramped space and looked up at Gregory. “Handsome Gregory, may you always remain at least as attractive as you are today,” said Hemi.
Gregory reached out his hand, and Hemi lifted one meaty mitt to meet it. Shakes watched them shake.
“Don’t fuckin’ die down there, Captain Shakes,” Gregory said, angling his head so his voice reached back to where Shakes was standing.
“If I do, take care of fuckin’ Herschel!” Shakes called back as Gregory seated and sealed the Gnat’s hatch.
Shakes shimmied forward and slithered into the Gnat’s control seat. He unclipped one of the bigger wrenches from his hip and gave the hatch above his head a ringing double-tap to let Gregory know they were about to disconnect. As his hand with the wrench came down, he put out a finger and snapped open the switch that connected the circuit to the docking clamps. It was immediately followed by a low thump from the outside of the Gnat’s hull.
Hemi was still wedged into the small space next to the control chair. “If you’re going to take up that space there, big guy, would you mind workin’ the fuckin’ trim? Give us a bit o’ flood if you don’t mind.”
Shakes had left the Gnat a little over-buoyant while it was attached to the Prospect, so even with the docking clamps disengaged, the boat’s mating collar was still pressed firmly against the Prospect’s. Hemi twisted open a valve and they could hear water pouring into the Gnat. Only seconds later, the boat dropped a meter or two. Shakes gave the electric motor some throttle. Most of the dials in front of the two men suddenly came to life, their little fingers of fate wagging at them.
“Gnat, Gnat. You boys fuckin’ listening?” Percy’s voice lit up the ship-to-ship radio.
Hemi closed the trim tank valves and picked up the ship-to-ship mic from where it hung in front of Shakes. “We have you, Sylvia.”
“I couldn’t let you two shitheads just go off and try this dumb-ass fuckin’ idea of yours without a proper send-off, Hemi.”
“Uh, Hemi,” Shakes put in, “when are you going to fill me in on the details of your ‘dumb-ass fucking idea’ here? I’m not so sure I’m likin’ the fuckin’ vibe I’m gettin’ from the rest of yer crew.”
Percy’s voice came back over the ship-to-ship. “How does your inhumanly calculating mind put the odds that this plan will actually fuckin’ work?”
Hemi held up a finger to Shakes. “Frankly, I give it about one chance in five,” Hemi said into the mic.
“And what are the chances that you will blow up either the Gnat or the Prospect or both?” asked Percy.
“At least one of the two boats? I would say one chance in four.”
“One in fuckin’ four?!” shouted Shakes.
“But I also think it is very likely that one way or another the plan will bring this pursuit to an end,” Hemi continued, still talking to the Prospect.
“Counting blowing us up as one way the pursuit could end?” asked Percy.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“That is right.” Hemi paused for a second before continuing. “I would like to also point out that this plan has a better chance of succeeding if you put Cassandra on sonar again.”
“No fucking way Hemi. I’ll grant you that she has learned fast enough to be perfectly capable of doing the sittin’ sonar watch job I hired her for — I was the first to see her fuckin’ potential, you know — but in this situation where we live or die, depending on what the sonar operator hears…nope. That little fucking shit stays in her rack.”
“Have you not noticed that with me on the Gnat you are down yet another crew member? You are running a full-sized hundred-meter cargo sub with a crew of four — and that is including Cassandra. During the wars, a boat the size of the Prospect would have had a crew of seventy.”
“I’ll put Bastian on sonar. It will be fucking fine.”
“You need Bastian to run the trim tanks and Gregory to steer the boat. You need to keep yourself free to think about tactics — tactics are what will make this plan successful, or not.” Hemi paused. “Besides, Cassandra can do this.”
There was silence from the radio for a minute. Then: “Alright Hemi. It’s your fuckin’ plan, I fuckin’ defer to you. I’ll put her back on sonar. If she kills us all, just know my last thought will be that you were fucking wrong.”
“I can die with that.”
“Seriously. Do your fuckin’ best not to die if you fuckin’ please. Out.”
Hemi hung the mic back on the hook.
“Bring us up to the surface,” said Hemi when Shakes looked at him doubtfully. “The first thing we have to do is try to confuse that Grackle into following the Gnat, even if for just a short while. We are not ready to use the Prospect for bait…yet.”
“The Prospect is going to be the fuckin’ bait for the Grackle? What kind of fuckin’ plan is that?”
“Bear with me. We need to get the Gnat into position, and I need to prepare some things. Then we will go over the plan.”
“OK. To the surface and running on diesel it is.” Shakes gave the Gnat a little more throttle while peering through the small viewport in front of him. He turned the steering yoke and drove the Gnat silently out from under the Prospect for a few hundred meters, then pulled back and the little submarine rose until the bow poked softly through the oily ocean surface.
“We’re on the fuckin’ surface.” Shakes turned around in the pilot’s seat to get Hemi’s attention, who had moved rearward to sort the gear in the hold. “Can you switch the drive from the electric motor to the diesel? The levers are just back there behind the fuckin’ engine.”
Hemi squeezed past the diesel engine that took up most of the interior deck-space in the rear third of the little submarine. There he found a series of levers that stuck up from the deck. He had to take a minute to read the hand-written labels, but it rapidly made sense to his mechanically-inclined mind. The system had a clutch, so switching between the power sources to the propeller could be made without stopping the boat. Hemi threw out the clutch lever, moved the selection lever over to the diesel, and let the clutch back in.
“OK, looks like it should be on diesel drive now,” Hemi called forward.
“Fuckin’ sweet. There’s a starter button for the diesel just above the levers; can you press and hold that until the diesel fires?”
Hemi pressed the slick rubber-coated button down with the fat part of his thumb, and the diesel engine in front of him made a few reluctant whines as it turned and the glow plugs warmed up.
But before the engine fired, Shakes interrupted him. “Wait! Hemi, fuckin’ wait!”
Hemi let his thumb off the starter button and the whine died away.
Shakes joined him a second later. “I almost fuckin’ forgot! After the diesel starts, I won’t be able to hear a fucking thing up there. Here…” Shakes unclipped the largest of the crescent wrenches from his belt and handed it to Hemi. “If you need to get my attention with the engine running, whack that against some metal part of the boat.”
Hemi nodded as Shakes grinned at him and slammed his thumb down on the starter.
Hemi knew it would be loud. But he was not prepared for the sheer penetrating amplitude of the over-powered engine, which had no muffler to speak of. It rolled and roared its way to life, and the pressure of the sound swamped the entire interior of the small craft from bow to stern.
Being direct drive, unlike the Prospect, the Gnat’s engine also shook the boat a lot more. Also unlike the Prospect, the Gnat’s diesel changed pitch and volume as the boat gained speed and the engine had to work harder. Shakes pushed the throttle forward and the already all-consuming sound grew, clawing its way into the deepest folds of Hemi’s tweed clothing until the bass notes vibrated his clothes against his skin, resonated in the huge void of his chest, and shook every last tiny screw holding the Gnat together.
Hemi squeezed himself into the small space next to the pilot’s seat where Shakes was guiding the boat. In that space he could reach the sonar controls, which Shakes had set up close enough to the pilot’s seat so that normally he could work the sonar himself while driving the boat. With Hemi aboard, he was happy to let someone else keep an eye on the sonar.
Hemi did not even bother with the headset. There was no way they would hear anything on passive sonar above the raucous engine noise of the Gnat’s diesel. But he punched the active sonar ping button and it was loud enough to get a response. The sonar sweep laid out a speckled ground plan of contacts in the ten nautical miles or so around the Gnat. Hemi waited five minutes and then fired off another ping. Only one dot had changed position, and that was the Grackle. It had moved from its intercept course with the Prospect and swung around to follow the engine noise of the Gnat.
A few minutes later Hemi let go one more ping just to be sure the Grackle was still following the Gnat, which it was. Then he powered down the sonar unit. Any further pings would run the risk of giving away the position of the Prospect to the Grackle after Percy started maneuvering her boat. For the time being, with the Gnat’s engine overwhelming everything else in the water, Hemi would have to just guess the status of the other boats by dead reckoning.
Hemi caught Shakes’s eye and pointed up to the hatch. Shakes nodded and squeezed off the other side of the pilot’s seat. Hemi passed through the space of the vacated pilot’s chair to climb up and open the hatch above. He stepped out into the shallow stream that washed over the deck of the Gnat.
The surface was mostly calm, with a light breeze under a bright gray sky. With the hatch open, Shakes piloted the boat standing. With his head up out of the sail, he kept a fierce eye forward for large pieces of debris or sunken hulks. Hemi shaded his eyes and scanned the horizon behind. They had only made a couple of miles from the Prospect, and Hemi could still see its gray sail rolling slowly from side to side, outlined dimly against the cloudy sky. But it was just one of a half dozen other large inert masses bobbing on the ocean surface within eyesight, not to mention the hundreds of smaller bits slowly churning through the scummy black water and occasionally clacking against each other.
Hemi sat on the Gnat’s low sail, just astern the open hatch and in front of the diesel exhaust that blew away abaft in a long stream of airborne crud. Shakes reached down into the sail, withdrew a pair of binoculars, and handed them to Hemi.
Hemi could see nothing moving under power on the surface besides themselves, which meant the Grackle was probably operating submerged. As with everything to do with submarining, Hemi’s plan would be a series of long, slow moves, interspersed with fast and frightening determined actions.
Hemi scanned back and forth across the horizon for twenty minutes or so, and then a small aspect change of the Prospect’s sail caught his practiced attention. It had stopped swaying, and was now holding itself bolt upright. Hemi focused his binoculars on it, and a few minutes later it sank silently downwards. The viscous black surface closed over it with a sucking sound that Hemi almost imagined he could hear.
At this, Hemi signaled to Shakes to make way so he could climb back down into the bowels of the Gnat. He returned to assembling the devices he had been working on. He made careful calculations with his slide ruler and noted them on his clipboard. Then he connected an air hose to a valve of the Gnat’s compressed air system and blew air into the old boat fenders he had brought from the Prospect. After each fender was filled, he put a gauge on it and checked the precise pressure inside the fender. When he was satisfied with the level of inflation, he sealed the fender shut with a screw-tightened clip and then lashed it to one of his twin explosive cylinder mine units.
The resulting device was crude, but Hemi trusted the numbers on his clipboard and the fundamental simplicity of the weapons he had created.
Another hour had passed as he worked, and Hemi intuited that it might be time to check on the Grackle. He lifted the big crescent wrench and smacked it against the hull of the Gnat with all his might. Shakes lowered his head and looked around at the clanging sound that managed to creep across to him just above the racket of the diesel engine to see Hemi giving him a “kill it” gesture. Shakes gave Hemi a thumbs up and eased the throttle back.
The sound of the engine died down enough to give Hemi a tremendous sense of relief. Shakes pointed to the engine kill button on the wall and Hemi thumbed it. True silence — silence like Hemi had never quite experienced before in all his years on submarines — overtook the small boat.
The silence only lasted a second before Shakes’s suddenly nasally-sounding voice broke in. “What the fuck’re we doin’ now?”
“Take us down. As deep as the Gnat can go.”
“OK…then switch us back to the fucking electric motor, man. And now maybe with the quiet back on us, you can fuckin’ fill me in on your apparently suicidal fuckin’ plan.”
“Shortly, Captain Shakes. We must check the sonar first, and I am sure you can appreciate the pragmatism of that order to things.”
Hemi pulled the levers in reverse order from before to disengage the drive from the diesel and re-engage the electric motor. Unlike the diesel, the electric motor did not have to be started, of course. Shakes just pushed the throttle forward and the much softer hum of the electric drive motor increased in pitch along with the slight sense of acceleration.
Hemi stepped forward and powered up the passive sonar unit. He lifted the headset from the welded steel peg from which it hung and put it on. He listened to the quiet ocean around them. He could not hear the Prospect at all — Percy must be running very slowly. But swinging the mics around, he found the Grackle easily — a few nautical miles off to the west of the Gnat. Even though the pursuing sub had to be much further away than the Prospect, and even though they were running submerged on electric motors, the Grackle was running fast enough to be easily tracked. They did not care who knew where they were.