Read Online Undersea by Geoffrey Morrison - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Geoffrey Morrison
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first, spinning them around so they faced back the way they came. Thom swore, throttled into reverse just as the starboard turbine caught. The end of the pool loomed large in the viewscreen just as the powerful engines shot them out into the ocean. Thom cut the engine and powered down the ship immediately, floating in silence along the dark rippled hull of the Population . Looking out the cockpit to the left, they could see their sister subs being ejected from the bay and slowly sinking to the bottom.
Thom looked the other way, at the stern of the Pop . Ralla had relaxed her grip. Sensing he had no time to explain, Thom braced his feet against the sub, pulled Ralla tight against him, and closed his eyes.
The Population had six propellers arranged roughly in a “U” shape. Each eight-bladed propeller was just over four stories in diameter. As the tiny attack sub cleared the stern of the ship the massive suction of the props sucked them into the wake, tossing them around like a bit of paper in a hurricane. Thom and Ralla were thrown violently about the cockpit, impacting each other and every surface in the sub.
They awoke to find themselves bruised, battered, and uncomfortably tangled up with one another. A single button was glowing warmly on the console. The backup mechanical dials showed them to be at neutral buoyancy and in a slow spin. As he and Ralla adjusted into the seat the best they could, Thom looked around them to see if there was any trace of the Pop . Nothing but empty sea. He powered up the sub. The main screen showed a thermal layer not too far above them, and no craft in the vicinity. He set the sub to rise slowly, without using the main engines. Once through the layer, and again showing no other ships, he powered up the main engines. Everything appeared to be in working order.
“OK, Dome F211 here we come. Two days in here won’t be too bad, right?” Thom said with a smile.
Ralla scowled.
It took them two and a half days to get to the farming dome, F211. From there, a transport got them to the Uni in just under a day. The transport, designed for short trips hauling grain to the Uni when it was parked nearby, was modified with extra seats, supplies, fuel. Its only cargo, besides Thom and Ralla, was the attack sub stolen from the Pop .
Something had changed between them. Silence was the norm during their cramped voyage, but the close quarters had somehow diminished the animosity. During the last leg on the transport, they said nothing, but sat next to each other despite a choice of seats. She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.
F211 had signaled the Uni , so when Ralla and Thom stepped off the transport it was to a hero’s welcome. Everyone they knew, and everyone those people knew, filled the large forward bay and the corridor beyond. Cameras broadcast their arrival throughout the ship.
Of course, it was predominantly for Ralla. Her father did his best to look regal as he greeted his only child, back from the dead. The tears were real, though his standing was not. He was supported by no less than two aides and a hastily made brace hiding under his robes.
Thom spotted Olly and the crew, but before he could wave, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Ralla had released her father and was now kissing a tall, handsome young man, much to the delight of the crowd. Thom was glad the cameras weren’t on him. To their credit, Olly and his friends either didn’t notice the look of disappointment and jealousy on his face, or said nothing if they did.
As the mass of people slowly made their way out of the bay, Thom received more pats on the back and handshakes than he could count. The crowd moved with them and in front of them, as if a single entity. Thom started walking slower and slower, letting the bulk of the crowd—and the cameras with their built-in spotlights—follow Ralla, her father, and Mr. Handsome. Thom caught glimpses through the crowd of
Thom looked the other way, at the stern of the Pop . Ralla had relaxed her grip. Sensing he had no time to explain, Thom braced his feet against the sub, pulled Ralla tight against him, and closed his eyes.
The Population had six propellers arranged roughly in a “U” shape. Each eight-bladed propeller was just over four stories in diameter. As the tiny attack sub cleared the stern of the ship the massive suction of the props sucked them into the wake, tossing them around like a bit of paper in a hurricane. Thom and Ralla were thrown violently about the cockpit, impacting each other and every surface in the sub.
They awoke to find themselves bruised, battered, and uncomfortably tangled up with one another. A single button was glowing warmly on the console. The backup mechanical dials showed them to be at neutral buoyancy and in a slow spin. As he and Ralla adjusted into the seat the best they could, Thom looked around them to see if there was any trace of the Pop . Nothing but empty sea. He powered up the sub. The main screen showed a thermal layer not too far above them, and no craft in the vicinity. He set the sub to rise slowly, without using the main engines. Once through the layer, and again showing no other ships, he powered up the main engines. Everything appeared to be in working order.
“OK, Dome F211 here we come. Two days in here won’t be too bad, right?” Thom said with a smile.
Ralla scowled.
It took them two and a half days to get to the farming dome, F211. From there, a transport got them to the Uni in just under a day. The transport, designed for short trips hauling grain to the Uni when it was parked nearby, was modified with extra seats, supplies, fuel. Its only cargo, besides Thom and Ralla, was the attack sub stolen from the Pop .
Something had changed between them. Silence was the norm during their cramped voyage, but the close quarters had somehow diminished the animosity. During the last leg on the transport, they said nothing, but sat next to each other despite a choice of seats. She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.
F211 had signaled the Uni , so when Ralla and Thom stepped off the transport it was to a hero’s welcome. Everyone they knew, and everyone those people knew, filled the large forward bay and the corridor beyond. Cameras broadcast their arrival throughout the ship.
Of course, it was predominantly for Ralla. Her father did his best to look regal as he greeted his only child, back from the dead. The tears were real, though his standing was not. He was supported by no less than two aides and a hastily made brace hiding under his robes.
Thom spotted Olly and the crew, but before he could wave, he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Ralla had released her father and was now kissing a tall, handsome young man, much to the delight of the crowd. Thom was glad the cameras weren’t on him. To their credit, Olly and his friends either didn’t notice the look of disappointment and jealousy on his face, or said nothing if they did.
As the mass of people slowly made their way out of the bay, Thom received more pats on the back and handshakes than he could count. The crowd moved with them and in front of them, as if a single entity. Thom started walking slower and slower, letting the bulk of the crowd—and the cameras with their built-in spotlights—follow Ralla, her father, and Mr. Handsome. Thom caught glimpses through the crowd of
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