I'm Peace-Commander Geoffrey Peace,' Peace said.
This is John Garland.'
The American looked at me penetratingly. It was a strong face, tough, without the cruel lines round Peace's mouth. If he had every weapon pointed at you, it flashed across my mind, he wasn't the man to jib at using them, if he thought it necessary.
Tyler inclined his head slightly. 'Hi, Geoff, hi, John.'
But he still stared at me. The morning's pretty well shot,' he added. Let's get below, much as I hate to, but we can't talk up here. MKG'S waiting.'
Peace nodded perfunctorily and Tyler led us below. If I had been uneasy before, I was more so now after meeting Tyler. His integrity and loyalty to the Vice-President were obvious.
Peace, too, was tense as we entered Willowtrack's Control Centre. It was airier and lighter than Devastation's, but that seemed about all. The steel-walled compartment, the instrument consoles, the diving-stand, the soft whirr of machinery, were all the same. But the tight groups of men, taut, alert, were not. Peace nodded towards them. Action stations?'
`Relax, fellahs-,' said Tyler informally. ' It's okay. Break it up.' He turned to a stocky officer. You have the deck and the conn, Lou. I'm going aft. We'll take time out to let these guys get some fresh air topsides. Call me if there's anything.'
With this sub skipper's time-honoured injunction on handing over, we threaded our way through to Tyler's cabin. For the first time in my life I felt a shut-in feeling in a sub; the steel walls did not seem big enough to contain our anxieties and our secret.
Tyler remained distant. He kicked the cabin door closed,
turned his back on us, picked up a phone and spoke in to it. MKG? The Limeys are here.' As the instrument crackled, he turned and looked hard at Peace. Sure, sure, he says his name is Peace. No, I dunno the guy. But the code reply was in order-Brickbat Zero One.' He put down the phone. `
The way MKG feels about Commander Geoffrey Peace, he'd give him a command in the United States Navy itself.'
His voice had a curious edge to it, and his use of the third person instead of speaking directly to Peace, left me wondering. Was the famous skipper jealous of the Vice-President's regard for the bright star of another Navy?
I am Commander Peace,' said Peace evenly.
Yeah, oh yeah,' said Tyler in the same tone. He paused for a moment, but neither of us spoke. Then, as if to cover up his unfriendliness, he said quickly. I don't as a rule hold with vips in my ship, but MKG is different.' He shrugged as if he realized he was just talking. Anyhow, you guys don't want me to give my own Vice-President the soft sell, but MKG sure has a way with him. My navigator's Chuck Wilson MKG shares a cabin with him, wouldn't hear of taking over mine. That's the kind of guy he is. Chuck's a whiz when it comes to figures, but MKG has him beat. Somehow-don't ask me how-we began to get some drift in the gyros of the analogue computer. Who fixes it?-mkg;!' He gave me an acute glance, sensing my confusion. You familiar with these ships?'
` No,' I said.
Again the tight scrutiny. 'I see. Well. there's seventeen thousand transistors, thirty-nine thousand diodes and forty thousand circuits in the system-'
A dockyard job,' said Peace.
Tyler's pride was touched. I guess there are at least thirty-five American nuclear subs on station in all oceans of the world at this moment,' he said with a thin smile. The u.s. Navy doesn't care for dockyards when they can do the job at sea.'
Peace and I exchanged glances. Tyler was certainly not making it any easier for us.
But in this case.' he went on, ' I'd say Willowtrack needed the whole goddam' Massachusetts Institute of Technology! But MKG fixed it and we hit St Brandon right on the barrel-head.'
He gave a short laugh, the first touch of warmth that had come into his conversation. He and Chuck Wilson talk, but what in hell they say, don't ask me.'
I said. ` Well, he's one of the great scientists.'
Somehow, the remark seemed off-key.
' Sure, sure,' replied Tyler briefly. Just that.'
Our voices fell dead. In the silence we could hear the chatter of the off-duty men on the casing above.
Tyler pushed across a box of Phillies Bonanzas and Peace took one.
Willow track's poison,' he remarked, glancing towards the door, as if anxious that MKG should not come in on us sitting silent. I tried putting out the crew's smoking lamp for a week once-medical experiment. It lowered everyone's morale so much that I stopped it after three days. I must say, though, I wouldn't mind a Jack Daniels at this moment. But the urge goes, once you can't get it.'
American ships still dry?' asked Peace noncommittally.
Tyler frowned, as if wanting to take exception to any remark. Sure, always have been. Always will be. Keeps the crew fit. And the fittest of all is MKG-punchball, medicine ball, Relaxicizor-the lot. You'd think he was training for the World Series.
Well, he's an astronaut-' I began, but the words froze as
Peace glanced at me. I'd forgotten-Tyler knew nothing of the space-flight to Sante Fe! All he knew was that MKG was to test a secret weapon.
The look was not lost on Tyler.
Then the American skipper said casually, What's the news – topsides?'
I saw Peace's momentary hesitation-he had been in the headlines for days-and then he replied, Usual. Nothing you'd want to look up for reference.'
Tyler seemed to relax a little. Fine. You know, this past week I've been lying awake nights and thinking what if some sonofabitch had mashed the tit and started a shooting war, and here I am cruising five hundred feet under the sea not knowing a word about it?'
I felt the sweat on my palms, but Peace said levelly, You were in touch with the White House every day.'
Twenty-four hours between signals,' answered Tyler. The Whole U.S.A. could be in ruins before I knew.'
I said gravely, Then you'd be the only fighting unit left in the world. You'd carry the decisive factor in your Sherwood Forest.'
Uh-huh,' Tyler replied noncommittally, looking again towards the door. MKG seemed a long time in coming. No news, eh? Well, that's good, because if there's anything my crew likes, it's news. News. They must have it. Normally on a deep-water mission I put up a radio antenna and tape it up. Then we play it back in the mess hall when the crew comes 88 off watch, but on this mission-' he swung his bulk aggressively to and fro= no dice. Strict orders. White House signal at sunset only. Not even a news flash. Nothing to fill the ship's newspaper except the same old corn, and you get pretty tired of that after a while. After all-' he seemed to be talking just to study us and our reactions= I'm editor-in-chief. I get sick of my own corn. Just about as sick as the boys do with the same old movies. We play 'em over and over. They speak the parts, they know them so well-run 'em into the ground, funning around-'
There was a light tap at the door.
Come in!' called Tyler.
Peace and I swung round. As the door opened, a thrill passed through me. I can still smell the acrid aroma of Tyler's cigar and see the tiny pastel-green cabin in sharp focus: the gyro repeater, speed indicator and depth gauge at the foot of the bunk; four telephones; a brace of speakers; the greenish-moon reflection off the bottom of the snicked-up Pullman washbasin; the grey metal lockers; the utilitarian desk.
MKG stood in the entrance.
He wore the same sea-going, washed-out khaki as Tyler. He was much the same build and had to stoop to enter. The face was long, the jaw badly shaven, squarer than Tyler's. It lacked the captain's rangy, weather-beaten look. But there was no mistaking its power, its determination, its command. Black hair, submarine-cut, receded slightly at the temples. As he came forward, he screwed up his eyes like a sailor viewing a far horizon. The regular line of his teeth showed as he went forward and gripped Peace's hand.