Weird Shadows Over Innsmouth

She gestured and Marston stepped past her into the office. He heard Jaspers close the door behind him. He found himself in a smaller office now, surrounded by charts and manuals. The man who stood up to greet him wore a set of summer khakis with the twin tracks of a Navy lieutenant on the collar.

“A real pleasure to see you again, Dr. Marston. After that little party in Curwen Heights I was afraid you wouldn’t want anything to do with us.”

“Ben Keeler?” Marston said. “You’ve certainly risen fast. You were a junior petty officer the last time I saw you.”

Keeler grinned. “Petty Officer Third Ben Keeler, Lieutenant Benjamin Keeler, same fellow. ONI put me in that EM’s uniform to check out the New Deep Ones Society. They were pretty worried at one point, those kids were getting too close to the truth and the Naval Intelligence wanted them steered off. That was my job. I still attend their meetings, by the way. If you ever want to come by again, I’d love some moral support. Just don’t blow my cover.”

“All right,” Marston smiled. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Naval Intelligence.”

“And they’re just a bunch of harmless eccentrics, you know,” Keeler added. He walked around the desk and put his arm on Marston’s shoulders. “Take a walk with me, Dr. Marston. There are some things you need to see, and then some questions I’ll want to ask you.”

Marston acceded, determined not to show the pain that he knew he was in for. At Keeler’s side he made his way along the pier. A freighter stood in the middle of Suisun Bay, black smoke pouring from its stacks. It would clear the Golden Gate before noon, Marston knew, en route to the soldiers and marines fighting the Japanese in the Pacific. An empty ship had already taken the place of the freighter on one side of the pier, while another, opposite it, received pallets and crates of munitions.

As they moved past work gangs Keeler took salutes from ensigns and petty officers supervising the stevedores. The latter continued to work as Marston and Keeler passed.

At the end of the pier they halted. A breeze had kicked up and the surface of Suisun Bay had turned choppy.

Marston gestured back toward the work gangs they had passed. “All of the stevedores are Negroes, all of the officers are white,” he commented. The question was implicit.

“That’s Navy policy,” Keeler said. “Not very long ago the Navy was trying to get rid of all its Negroes, even though they were just mess-men and laundry workers. Filipinos make better workers. But there’s too much pressure from Washington, finally the service gave in. And these coloured stevedores are pretty good, as long as you keep a close eye on them.”

They turned to face the buildings of Port Chicago. “What we’re concerned about, Del, is a very special cargo that we’re going to ship out this month.”

Marston nodded, then waited for Keeler to continue.

“It’s a very special bomb. It’s coming in by train next week, and Captain Kinne wanted to get your help in handling it.”

Marston shook his head. “What do I know about bombs?”

“Oh, we have plenty of people who know about bombs,” Keeler grinned. “We need somebody who knows hydrology and submarine geology to keep this baby safe.”

“What is it, something bigger than the ones LeMay is dropping on Japan? The closer we get to the home islands, the easier it’s’ going to be to hit ’em.”

“No,” Keeeler shook his head. “This is something different. Look, everybody knows that we’re close to finishing off the European war. Ike took a big risk with the Normandy landings but that was a big success and Patton and Montgomery are rolling through France. Italy’s out of the game. And the Russians are closing in on the Nazis from the East. It’s just a matter of time now.”

“And in the Pacific, too, don’t you agree, Benjamin?”

“But we’re taking terrible losses. The President is up for reelection this November and those casualties are going to hurt him. He’s put pressure on the War Department and the Navy Department to give him this bigger, better bomb. We figure once we drop a couple of these babies on Japan, maybe one on Tokyo and one on Kobe, even the fanatical Nips will cave in. Washington doesn’t want to have to invade the home islands, don’t you see. That’s what this is all about, Del.”

There was a moment of silence as a zephyr swept in from the Bay, bringing the smell of brine and brackish waters with it. Then the wind shifted and the clatter of tools, the sound of voices, the roar of donkey engines came to them from the ships and the railroad cars.

“And there’s another thing,” Keeler added. “You know Uncle Sam didn’t much care for the Bolshies when they first took over Russia twenty-five years ago. President Wilson even sent some troops over there. The government doesn’t like to talk about that any more now that Joe Stalin is our buddy but you know we took sides in their civil war and we picked a loser.”

“That was a long time ago,” Marston put in.