Kramer's mind was full of pipes and valves, all bathed in the soft glow of a small red light set into the ceiling. The pipes ran the full length of the vessel, passing through bulkheads, bending around obstacles or disappearing altogether downwards into the engine room that Kramer could feel throbbing beneath his feet.
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Run silent, run deep.
Claustrophobia setting in. Got to move.
GOTTA DANCE, GOTTA SING!
Then the bridge area, laughably small and cramped, the periscope down, the game up. Figures, shouting orders in a language not familar to Kramer, were all about, squeezing past one another, each with their own mission in life. The ping of the ASDIC echoing off the metal hull.
Then an explosion. A depth-charge, erupting close by, shook the ship violently, sending men and machinery crashing into one another. Rivets tore loose and water gushed in. Teams of well drilled submariners blu-tacked planks of balsa wood over the rents and the hull held.
Deeper . . . deeper.
Now well out of harms way and more like the Nautilus from 20,000 leagues under the sea than a world war two U-Boat. Disney not Krupps. No wolf-packs here.
Like Jonah now, in the belly of an iron whale. "Got a whale of a tale to tell you boys, a whale of a tale or two."
60,000 miles. Two and a half times around the world in eighty days, and not a penny more.
DIVE, DIVE, DIVE!
Full fathom five my father lies.
Kramer's watched his father play poker with Captain Nemo, putting down six aces to Nemo's five and scooping the pot. From the reinforced observation panel he saw the sea bed, crazy-paved and marked into parking zones with water proof paint. "The white zone is for loading and unloading" a voice said. Thelma and Louise in full rubber scuba gear swam by looking for Mr. Goodbar before driving off the edge of the Great Rift Valley in a bright blue metallic Model T Ford.
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Kramer passed through a door and was in the reactor room. Then the missile silos. Radio-active megadeath in Neptune's domain. And the Spanish Main.
Armada.
Our Father.
Alma Mater.
Deep waters, still waters. Still waters running deep. Run deeper, run quieter, go softly into the world.
Kramer stirred but didn't wake.
Blow forward tanks. Blow aft tanks. Blow your mind. Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.
Slowly to the surface. Upwards and onwards.
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Then Kramer was in an airlock.
He turned the central wheel on the hatch above and the waited for it to fill with water.
The water when it came was warm and fresh, and he found that he could breathe in it. The hatch opened automatically and Kramer was forced out.
Out into the warm darkness.
But down instead of up.