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He walked aft along the middle deck, climbed up the ladder to the top deck and negotiated the tunnel to enter the world he knew and understood. The screaming of the turbo generator-; permeated this gleaming space of white paint, twisting pipes and shining, steel gratings. Scanes reported to the manoeuvring-room, took over from his predecessor, then started his tour.

The PO on his electrical panel seemed happy enough and so did the watchkeeper on the throttle control panel. The chief on the reactor panel nodded his greetings and Scanes moved out into the less rarified world outside.

He paused on the manoeuvring platform, fascinated however often he saw it, by the vastness of the open space that was the main engine-room. Over thirty feet from deckhead to bilges, it gleamed in its white paint even after months of running. Here were the bits and pieces which, apart from the boilers, turbines and gearboxes driving the huge propeller, were vital to the functioning of the submarine: the turbo and motor generators provided the electrical energy and charged the small battery which was so vital if the reactor was scrammed.

Scanes moved down to 2 deck and had a word with the upper-level watchkeeper: the air compressors of the freon plant, dangerous if it leaked its gas, were giving no trouble for once. He walked into the switchboard room and had a word with the watchkeeper: Safari was, in reality, an electrical ship; though the back-up procedures were plentiful, all hydraulics and controls were actuated electrically. Down on 3 deck, Scanes checked the diesel and motor generator compartment, with its ear-splitting noise level. The watchkeeper grinned and held up his thumb. In the, adjoining compartment, he found the eighteen-year-old junior MEM writing up his readings. Atkins had joined the Navy only four months ago, but here he was, enduring the long watches in this isolated, sweltering steel box, monitoring the distiller and its tanks as if he had been accustomed to the job all his life. His pale, serious face split into a nervous grin:

'Yeah — everything's okay, chief,' he yelled into Scanes' ear.

Scanes systematically read the gauges, checked the lad's entries. There was little room to move and the air was foul. He was about to sign the log when from somewhere above there was a roaring noise. He heard the shouts, recorded in his minds die emergency commands.

'God!' he yelled, shoving his way past the stoker. 'A steam leak — can't be anything else!'

<p>Chapter 16</p>HM Submarine Orcus, 15 May.

'Happy with the trim?' Farge asked.

Eddie Foggon was watching the depth gauge and the bubble 'She's settled nicely,' the MEO said. 'Qs half full.'

Lieutenant Woolf-Gault stood silently at the after end of the control-room: the boat was bottomed at 632 feet with a four-degree bow-down angle, in her second waiting position, three miles from the V-junction of the main shipping lanes. The roundabout buoy was six and a half miles to the south-southwest: from this new position Orcus should be able to monitor both lanes more satisfactorily.

'Who's the officer of the watch, Number One?'

'TASO, sir,' Tim Prout said. 'He's willing to keep the watch until 0300.'

Woolf-Gault sensed the hesitation, felt awkward at the first lieutenant's announcement; he intercepted the glances passing between the plotting team but registered the flash of understanding in the cox'n's kindly eye.

'Right, then,' the captain said. 'You have the submarine, officer of the watch.'

Woolf-Gault stepped forward, between the periscopes. 'I have the submarine, sir.'

'Call me at once if you're bothered or if the sound-room picks up any major war vessels,' Farge said, firmly. 'There could be a lot more activity at dawn. Shake me at 0400.'

'Aye, aye, sir.' The captain crossed to the chart table, had a word with Murray, then disappeared into his cabin.

Three minutes later, the control-room had emptied. The boat had adopted a modified action state, with a reduced attack team closed up on the sonar, the LOP and the CEP. Farge was remaining in WP2 until the sound-room had built up a comprehensive sonar state.

Woolf-Gault moved over to the chart table. Four hours ago the captain had crossed the western lane by running deep and taking advantage of the overhead traffic. When he came up for a quick look, he found good vis. and the wind moderated to five or six. He did not hang around, having sighted a group of choppers to the west. Their active pinging shortly afterwards dispelled the hope that Orcus had penetrated the Kola Inlet undetected. The captain bottomed her half an hour before the westerly tidal stream began to run and reinstated the Ultra Quiet State.

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