"Safety?" asked Terry. "On a boat? When a mass of bubbles from undersea
could provoke such a turmoil in the water that no ship could stay
afloat? That's how one ship disappeared. It might be the _Esperance's_
turn next. Who knows?" Then he added, "There's no limit to the size of a
swimming creature!"
A bald-headed member of the tracking station staff walked in. He
carried an object of clear plastic. It was a foot and a half long, about
six inches in diameter. There was an infinite complexity of metallic
parts enclosed in the plastic.
"I caught one of the fishermen making off with this," he said in a flat
voice. "It was fastened to one of the squid's shorter arms. The
fishermen didn't want to give it up. The skipper claimed it as
treasure-trove."
He put it down on the table. Davis, Terry and Morton looked at it. Then
Morton shrugged his shoulders, almost up to his ears.
"The intelligent being that made it," said Davis, "apparently came down
from the sky in a bolide. That's easier to believe than that a submarine
civilization of earthly origin lives down in the depths. But why would
anybody prefer the bottom of the sea to--anywhere else on earth? Where
would such a creature come from?"
Deirdre walked in and stood by the table, watching Terry's face. The
bald-headed man said, "I could believe some pretty strange things, but
you can't make me believe that a creature can develop intelligence
without plenty of oxygen. There's not much free oxygen at the bottom of
the sea."
"But there's something intelligent down there," said Davis doggedly. "If
it has to have free oxygen, you've only raised the question of where it
gets it. Maybe it brings it."
Deirdre shook her head. "Foam," she said.
The four men stared at her. Then Terry said sharply, "That's it! On the
_Esperance_ there's a picture of a huge mass of foam on the sea. A ship
dropped right out of sight right into it. Deirdre found the answer!
Something down below needs free oxygen. In quantity. Why not get it from
the water? What to do with the hydrogen that is left? Let it loose!
It'll come to the surface, make a foam-patch...."
Dr. Morton said with a sort of mirthless geniality, "I add a stroke of
pure genius! Davis just asked what would be the origin of a creature
which preferred the depths of the sea to any other place on earth.
What's to be found down there that's missing everywhere else? Cold? No.
Moisture? No. Just two things! Darkness and pressure! At the bottom of
the Luzon Deep the pressure is over seven tons to the square inch.
There's no light--I repeat, none--below three hundred fathoms. Down at
the sea-bottom it's black, black, black! Now, where in the universe
could there be creatures capable of riding down here in a bolide, and in
need of an environment like that?"
Terry shook his head. He remembered seeing a book on the solar planets,
in the after-cabin of the _Esperance_. He hadn't read it. The others on
the yacht must have.
"How about Jupiter?" asked Deirdre. "The gravity's four times the
earth's, and the atmosphere is thousands of miles thick. The pressure at
the surface should be tons to the square inch."
Morton nodded. With the same false geniality he added, "And there'll be
no light. Sunlight will never get through that muggy thick atmosphere!
So we consider ourselves to be rational beings and guess that the
bolides come from Jupiter! But I must admit that the last bolide was
headed inward toward the sun, and from the general direction of Jupiter.
So-o-o-o, do we warn the world that creatures from Jupiter are
descending in space ships and are settling down under water, at a depth
of forty-five hundred fathoms? Like hell we do!"
He got up and walked abruptly away.
"I ..." said the bald-headed man, shaking his head incredulously, "will
put this gadget away and go back to carve some more squid."
"I'll talk to Manila," said Davis drearily. "Something is coming up from
below. There shouldn't be any ships allowed to come this way until we
find out what's happening."
Deirdre smiled at Terry, now that they were alone.
"Have you anything very important to do just now?"
He shook his head.
"If the things that are coming up are--space ships, we can't fight them.
If they're anything else, they can't very well fight us. If we wanted to
attack something at the bottom of the sea we'd have to fumble at the
job. We wouldn't know where to begin. So maybe, if a submarine power
wants to attack at the surface of the sea, it may find it difficult,
too."
He frowned. Deirdre said, "Let's go look at the sea and think things
over!"
She very formally took his arm and they walked out. Presently, they
stood on the white coral beach on the outer shore, and talked. Terry's
mind came back, now and then, to how inadequate his previous guesses
about the impending menace had been. It seemed now that the menace must
be much worse than he had imagined. But there were many things he wanted
to say to Deirdre.
As they talked, they were disturbed. The helicopter, which had left
before noon loaded down with biological material for Manila, was
approaching again. It landed by the tracking station. Then they were
alone again.
When night fell, they were astonished at how quickly time had passed.
They went back to the station. The helicopter was on the ground. The
biologists had stopped their work, exhausted but very excited by their
discovery of a new species of squid, of which an immature specimen
measured eighty feet. It had offered extremely interesting phylogenic
material for the Cephalopoda in general. The photographs they'd taken
were invaluable, from a scientific viewpoint.
The crew of _La Rubia_ had returned to their boat. The _Esperance_ had
been out beyond the reef once more. The unidentified objects were still
rising. They had risen to less than a thousand fathoms from the surface,
well before sundown. At this same rate of rise, they should reach the
surface some time after midnight. What would happen after that?
"What will happen depends," said Terry, "on how accurate their
information about us is. It depends on their instruments, really. I
suspect their ideas about us are weird. I find I haven't any ideas about
them."
At dinner, Davis said worriedly, "I talked to Manila. The mine layer
that was in the Bay left harbor yesterday. The flattop picked it up by
radio and they're both going to come on here tomorrow. I had to talk
about the foam. They weren't impressed. The squid does impress them, but
the foam--no. I hate," he said indignantly, "to try to convince people
of things I couldn't possibly be convinced of myself!"
They talked leisurely. Somebody mentioned _La Rubia_. It had been more
or less expected that her skipper would turn up for drinks and
conversation again. But he hadn't. The conversation turned to the
plastic objects. They might or might not pick up sounds. It was not
likely they'd respond to light. Certainly, complete images would be
meaningless to creatures who had evolved in blackness and without a
sense of sight. They might respond to pressure-waves, such as are known
to be picked up by fish when something struggles in the water, even
though man-made instruments have not yet detected them. They might
furnish data of a sensory kind that is meaningless to humans, as
pictures would be to Jovians. _If_ there were such things....
"Why argue only for Jupiter?" asked Deirdre. "Venus is supposed to be
mostly ocean. There could be abyssal life there."
The crew-cuts joined in the argument, but tentatively, because there
were many experts present.
Midnight came. The open sea outside the reef showed nothing unusual. The
waves glittered palely at their tips. There were little flashings in the
water where an occasional surface fish darted. The stars shone. The moon
was not yet risen.
Two o'clock came. The _Esperance_ people were divided. Terry and Davis
were too apprehensive to sleep. Deirdre'd gone confidently to the yacht
to turn in. The crew-cuts slept peacefully, too. Davis said uneasily,
"I've got a feeling that the ... objects are at the surface, or very
close to it, but that they simply aren't showing themselves. I think
they're lying in ambush. The squid that was killed must have had trouble
getting into the lagoon. They probably won't try to get the big ones in.
They'll wait...."
Terry shook his head.
"We killed that little one--save the mark!--and its death was probably
reported in some fashion. So maybe they'll use the big ones on the
surface as bait for another kind of weapon. Foam, for example. We know
how a ship simply dropped out of sight, as if into a hole."
"I know!" said Davis drearily. "I told the flattop about that. But I
don't think they really believe it."
At two-thirty Davis and Terry went down to the yacht. They stood on the
deck. They kept watch by mere instinct. There was no activity anywhere.
Faint noises were coming from _La Rubia_. Maybe her crew was repacking
the hastily loaded masses of squid-flesh. The last-quarter moon rose at
long last, and shone upon the glassy-rippled water of the lagoon.
Star-images danced beside its reflection.
A little after three, quite abruptly, the Diesels of _La Rubia_ rumbled
and boomed. The dark silhouette of the ship headed across the lagoon
toward its opening. Terry swore.
"She lifted her anchor without making a noise," he said angrily. "Her
skipper wants to get to Manila with his catch before it spoils!
Damnation! I told him not to leave without warning. Anything could be
waiting outside!"
He raced for the shore and the outboard motorboat. Davis shouted down
the forecastle and pelted after him. Terry had the outboard in the water
by the time Davis arrived. He jumped in and pulled the starter. The
motor caught.
The outboard went rushing across the water. Its wake was a brilliant
bluish luminescence.
The booming of the Diesels grew louder. Capitán Saavedra thought he had
put over a fast one on _los americanos_, who had moved the fish from
where he regularly captured them in vast quantities and gathered them in
a lagoon where his nets tore. They had given him most of a monster
squid, true, but they had reserved certain parts for themselves. They
were undoubtedly the most valuable parts. So when labor officially
ceased at sundown, _La Rubia's_ skipper only pretended to accept the
idea. In the last hour his crew had quietly completed loading _La Rubia_
with squid. They'd been carefully silent. They'd lifted anchor without
noise. Now _La Rubia_ headed for the lagoon entrance, heavy in the water
but with precise information about what coral heads needed to be dodged.
She had on board a cargo history had no parallel for. Her skipper
expected to be rewarded with fame, as well as cash.
When the outboard motor rushed toward _La Rubia_, Capitán Saavedra
zestfully gave his engines full throttle. When the racketing, roaring
motorboat arrived beside his ship, and Terry shouted to him to stop, he
chuckled and drove on. In fact, he left _La Rubia's_ pilot-house to wave
cheerfully at the two men. They frantically ran close and shouted to him
above the rat-tat-tatting of their own motor and the rumble of his
Diesels.
_La Rubia_ reached the lagoon entrance with the smaller boat close at
her side, and Terry still shouting.
But Capitán Saavedra did not believe. Maybe he did not understand.
Certainly he did not obey. Ocean swells lifted and tossed the motorboat.
It became necessary to slow down, for safety. But _La Rubia_ went
grandly on, into the open sea.
"We can't force him to stop," said Davis in a despairing voice. "He
won't. I only hope we're wrong, and he gets through!"
The outboard stayed where it was, and swells tossed it haphazardly. _La
Rubia_ switched on her navigation lights. She drove zestfully to the
southward. She sailed on, dwindling in size, as the drone of her Diesels
diminished in volume.
Looking back, Terry saw the _Esperance_ approaching from the lagoon,
dark figures on her deck. Terry shouted, cries answered him, and the
_Esperance_ came to a stop as the motorboat drew alongside.
Terry and Davis scrambled to her deck while one of the crew-cuts led the
smaller boat astern and tethered it.
"We're safe enough here," Terry said bitterly, "and since you've come,
we can stay and watch if anything happens. If only she keeps on
going...."
But _La Rubia_ did not. Her lights showed that she had changed course.
She changed course again. Her masthead light began to waver from side to
side. She wallowed in such a way that it was clear she was neither on
course nor in motion any longer.
Nobody gave orders, but the _Esperance's_ engine roared. The action from
this point on became an automatic and quick response to an emergency.
The schooner-yacht plunged ahead at top speed. Terry switched on the
recorder and the ultrapowerful sound projector. Davis bent over the
searchlight. Two of the crew-cuts readied the bazookas.
Suddenly, a flare went off on _La Rubia's_ deck. Her stubby masts and
spars became startlingly bright. Screams came across the waves, even
above the growling of the surf and above the noise of the _Esperance's_
engine.
The flare shot through the air. It arched in a high parabola, bright in
the sky, and fell into the sea. Another flare was ignited.
The _Esperance's_ searchlight flicked on. A long pencil of light reached
across the waves as she raced on. More screamings were heard. Another
flare burned. It arched overside. The _Esperance_ plunged on,
shouldering aside the heavier waves of open water.
A half-mile. A quarter-mile. _La Rubia_ wallowed crazily, and more
shrieks came from her deck. Then the fishing boat seemed to swing.
Beyond her, a conical, glistening and utterly horrifying monster
emerged, a mere few yards from her rail. Enormous eyes glittered in the
searchlight rays. A monstrous tentacle with a row of innumerable
sucker-disks reached over the stern of _La Rubia_.
Another flare swept from the fishing boat's deck in the direction of the
giant squid. It fell upon wetted, shining flesh. The monster jerked, and
_La Rubia_ was shaken from stem to stern. Hurriedly, Terry pressed the
power-feed button, and the sound projector was on. Its effect was
instantaneous. The monster began to writhe convulsively. It was
gigantic. It was twice, three times the size of the squid captured in
the lagoon. Terry heard his own voice cry out, "Bazookas! Use 'em! Use
'em!"
Flaring rocket missiles sped toward the giant. Davis flung one of the
hand grenades he'd manufactured. The yacht plunged on toward the
clutched, half-sunk fishing boat. The hand grenade exploded against the
monster's flesh. Simultaneously, the bazooka-missiles hit their target
and flung living, incandescent flame deep into the creature's body.
Those flames would melt steel. They bored deeply into the squid, and
they were infinitely more damaging than bullets.
The creature leaped from the water, as chunks of its flesh exploded. It
was a mountainous horror risen from the sea. As it leaped, it had
squirted the inky substance which is the squid's ultimate weapon of
defense. But, unlike small squid, this beast of the depths squirted
phosphorescent ink.
The beast splashed back into the sea, and the wave of its descent swept
over the deck of _La Rubia_. The fishing boat nearly capsized. But the
monster had not escaped the anguish of its wounds. It fought the injured
spots as though an enemy still gnawed there. It was a struggling madness
in the sea.
The _Esperance_ swung to approach the half-sunken trawler, and Terry
kept the searchlight on the turmoil. The beast knew panic. It was
wounded, and the abyss is not a place where the weak or wounded can long
survive. Its fellows would be coming....
They did. Something enormous moved swiftly under the sea toward the
wounded monster. It could be seen by the phosphorescence its motion
created, as it approached the surface. There was a jar, a jolt. Some
part of it actually touched the _Esperance's_ keel. The huge monster
moved ahead, but a trailing tentacle flicked up to what it had touched a
moment before.
The ugly tentacle trailed over the yacht's rail. The rail shattered. The
forecastle hatch was wiped out. The bowsprit became mere debris which
dangled foolishly from the standing rigging.
The _Esperance_ bucked wildly at this fleeting contact. Nick fired a
bazooka-shell, but it missed. Holding fast, Davis flung a grenade. It
detonated uselessly. It was then that Deirdre screamed.
Terry froze for an instant. There had simply been no time for him to
think that Deirdre might be aboard. It was inexcusable, but nothing
could be done now.
Tony had been knocked overside by the shock of the contact with the
giant, and was swimming desperately trying to follow the yacht and climb
back on board. Terry flashed the searchlight about. He found Tony,
splashing. The _Esperance_ swung in her own length while Terry kept the
searchlight beam focused. More shrieks came from _La Rubia_. Davis threw
a rope and Tony caught it. They hauled him aboard, and the _Esperance_
turned again to pluck away the trawler's crewmen.
There were unbelievable splashings off to port. Terry flung the
lightbeam in that direction. It fell upon unimaginable conflict. The
monster that had passed under the yacht now battled the wounded squid.
They fought on the surface, horribly. A maze of intertwining tentacles
glistened in the light, and their revolting bodies appeared now and
again as the battered creature fought to protect itself, and the other
to devour. Other enormous squids came hurrying to the scene. They flung
themselves into the gruesome fight, tearing at the dying monster and at
each other. There were still others on the way....
The sea resounded with desperate mooing sounds.
The _Esperance_ bumped against _La Rubia_. Frantic, hysterically
frightened men clambered up from the deck of the sinking trawler to the
yacht. As soon as they were aboard they implored their rescuers to head
for land, immediately.
"Get 'em all off!" bellowed Terry, in command by simple virtue of having
clear ideas of what had to be done. "Get 'em all off!"
The stout skipper of _La Rubia_ jumped over the yacht's rail. Without
orders, the yacht's engine bellowed. The _Esperance_ turned toward the
shore, which now seemed very far away.
Something splashed to starboard. The sea glowed all around it. Terry
poured the pain-sound exactly in that direction. The monster went into
convulsions. The yacht swerved away to keep its distance. She raced on,
past the spot where the giant flailed its tentacles insanely about. It
mooed.
The _Esperance_ raced at full speed toward the island. About a mile
ahead, the surf roared and foamed on the coral reef almost awash.
Back at the scene of the battle of monsters, there was a sudden break in
the conflict. One of the wounded giants broke free. It may have been the
one the _Esperance_ had first attacked; perhaps it was another, which
might have been partly devoured while still fighting.
In any case, one of them broke loose and fled, with the hellish pack
after it. It is the instinct of squids, if injured, to try to find some
submarine cavern in which to hide. The monster dived, and the others
pursued it. There was no opening in the reef barrier--not underwater.
But there was an opening on the surface. The crippled beast had to find
a refuge, or be torn to bits. It may have been guided by instinct, or
perhaps the current flowing into or out of the lagoon furnished the
clue. In any case, the fleeing creature darted crazily into the channel
used by the _Esperance_ for passage. For a little way, it proceeded
underwater. Then it grounded itself. Hopelessly.
And the pursuing pack arrived.
The sight from the _Esperance's_ deck was straight out of the worst
possible nightmare. Glistening serpentine tentacles writhed and flailed
the seas. They tore the swells to froth. The pursuers had flung
themselves savagely upon the helpless one. The gap in the reef was
closed by the battling giants. They slavered. They gripped. They tore.
They rent each other....
Terry saw a tentacle as thick as a barrel which had been haggled half
through and dangled futilely as its stump still tried to fight.
And more giants came. Terry shouted, and the _Esperance_ turned. He
could see large patches of phosphorescence under the surface. And
suddenly, he noticed that a few of them had swerved toward the
_Esperance_. As they approached the sound-horn stung them. They went
into convulsive struggling, as the sound played upon them, and they
passed the _Esperance_ by.
Davis found Terry beside the sound-weapon's controls watching the sea
with desperate intensity.
"Listen," said Davis fiercely, "we're out at sea and we can't get back
into the lagoon! We'd better get away from here!"
"Across deep water?" demanded Terry. "That dangerous foam can come up
from deep water, but maybe not from shallow water. We've got to stay
close to the reef until the flattop comes and bombs these creatures--if
it will ever come!"
Davis made a helpless gesture. Terry said crisply, "Get the 'copter to
hang over the reef and report on the fighting there. Tell it to report
to the flattop. They may not believe us, but they may send a plane
anyway. And if the ships come, they'll have to believe about the foam!
Tell them to listen for it underwater. They've got sonar gear."
Davis stumbled away. Presently, the dark figure of Nick lowered himself
through what had been the forecastle hatch. Davis followed him.
Deirdre came over to Terry.
"Terry ..."
"I'm going to beat in the heads," said Terry, "of those idiots who came
after your father and me without throwing you on the wharf first!"
"They'd have wasted precious time," said Deirdre calmly. "I wouldn't
have let them. Do you think I want to be ashore when you ..."
There was the faintest of palings of the horizon to the east. Terry said
grimly, "I'm going to try to find a passage through the surf, to get you
ashore. I'm keeping the _Esperance_ in shallow water--inside the
hundred-fathom line--but I don't trust it. Certainly I don't trust a
ship to make you safer!"
"It's going to be daybreak soon," she protested. "Then...."
"Then we won't be able to see what goes on underwater," he told her.
"Those ... creatures down below are smart!"
There was a racketing, rumbling roar from the island. A light rose above
the tree-tops. Presently a parachute-flare lit up. Then there was
another, as if the men in the helicopter did not believe what they saw
the first time.
"Terry," said Deirdre shakily, "I'm ... glad we found each other, no
matter what happens...."
Davis came up from below.
"The flattop's only a few miles away. They're now proceeding at top
speed. The mine layer's following. They'll be here by sunrise."
* * * * *
Far away to the east, some brightness entered into the paling of the
sky. A drab, colorless light spread over the sea. The ocean was a dark,
slate blue. Swells flattened abruptly about a quarter-mile away. Terry
aimed the sound-weapon and pressed the button. Something gigantic
started up, and the top of a huge squid's mantle pierced the surface.
The giant leaped convulsively, high above the water, save for trailing
tentacles. It was larger than a whale. It fell back into the sea with a
loud splash, and moved away quickly.
Color came into the sky. The sun's upper rim appeared. Flecks of gold
spread upon the sea.
Far, far away at the horizon a dark speck appeared. As the sun climbed
up over the edge of the world, the speck turned golden. There was a mist
of smoke above it. A plane took off from the ship. Another plane
followed.
Fighter planes flashed toward the island. One of them zoomed sharply,
like a bird astonished at something it has seen below. It whirled and
came back over that spot. There was the rasping whine of a machine gun.
Something like a giant snake reared up and fell back again. And now more
planes appeared.
Sunrise was suddenly complete. Terry stared out over the sea. And he
could not believe his eyes, accustomed as he was to the highly unlikely,
now. Giant squids were afloat at the surface. He saw one here, and
another there, and another, and another.... They were emerging by tens,
by scores.
"They've been sent up," said Terry very grimly, "by an entity that
didn't evolve on the earth. They're ... domesticated, in a way. They're
watchdogs for whatever arrives in bolides that fall in the Luzon Deep.
They are the reason for the shining circle of sea from which thousands
of tons of living fish were drawn down into the abyss. The
creatures--the ... _ellos_ who listen to what fish and fishermen
say--they keep these things as domestic animals. And they have to feed
them. Those mooings were the ... cries of these things waiting to be
fed. Try to imagine that, Deirdre! In the blackness of the pit, in the
abyss at the bottom of the sea...."
A tentacle broke surface. Terry swung the sound-beam. A mantle reared
above the waves. A bazooka-shell hit it. Something huge and stupid and
monstrous fought the impalpable thing that hurt it....
Davis approached.
"These," he said absurdly, "aren't the creatures who made the plastic
objects. Maybe we ought to try to open communication with their masters.
Why should we fight? If we prove we can defend ourselves...."
"I suspect," said Terry, "that all intelligent beings think the same
way, intelligently. If we landed on another planet, on some part of that
planet that the natives didn't use but we could, it wouldn't be sensible
for those natives to welcome us! Trade with us, perhaps. But let us
settle down, no!"
There was a bomb explosion out at sea. A plane had dropped a
hundred-pound bomb on a monster at the surface. The flattop was now
distinct. Golden, almost horizontal sunlight struck upon it. Off to the
west a plane dived steeply, something dropped from it, and the plane
levelled off. A three-hundred-foot fountain erupted from the surface.
Then there came absolute proof that intelligence lay behind all this. It
was not human intelligence, to be sure. Men are tool-using creatures
nowadays. They imagine robots for fighting, and nowadays they make them,
but many centuries ago men ceased to try to use animals as combatants in
war.
The creatures under the sea had not. They'd send up giant squids to do
battle with men, as men once sent elephants against the Macedonian army.
It was naïve. But the generals, the tacticians, the strategists of the
Deep did not remain wedded to the one weapon. Already, they saw that
beasts could be fought by men. So their instruments of battle changed.
Doubtless, orders were given, and five miles under the sea
something--something men could not have duplicated--began the
transformation of seawater into gas, in quantities past imagining. Tiny,
tiny bubbles were produced by some unguessable engine, and rose toward
the surface, in a steady stream. At the bottom they were under a
pressure of tons to the square inch. But the pressure lessened as they
rose, and as they rose they swelled. A bubble which was pinhead-size at
the sea-bed grew to be the size of a basketball a half-mile up, and
would have been the size of a house a mile up, except that then it
separated into smaller ones. They rose and rose and expanded and
separated. Five miles up from their origin, at little more than
atmospheric pressure, they made a rising column of insubstantiality. At
the surface they became foam. But under the foam there was more foam,
and under that still more. A ship sailing from normal ocean water into
such airy stuff would drop like a stone into the miles-long cone of
semi-nothingness. Nothing solid could float there. Nothing substantial
could rest its weight upon such rushing thistledown.
And the first of the bubble-weapons appeared at the surface in the form
of a patch of foam. Its source--and hence the place of its
appearance--could be moved. It could be shifted under any ship, though
there would be a time-interval, always, before the foam at the surface
was exactly above the gas-generating engine below. It could be moved to
anticipate the movements of a ship. But there was always that time-lag.
The _Esperance_ headed back toward the heap of monsters at the break in
the reef. Other giant squids emerged and joined the pack. A plane came
over and bombed it. The _Esperance_ turned away. The mine layer from
Manila appeared at the horizon. The flattop made a sudden violent turn,
and more foam appeared upon the water. It curled and writhed and piled
up to be ten--twenty--thirty yards in height.
The flattop fired a shell into it. There was a gigantic flash and flame,
and for an instant there was no foam, but only peculiarly pock-marked
ocean surface, instantly covered by more foam which piled up as before.
"Gas," said Terry grimly. "Hydrogen. You guessed right, Deirdre!"
Now the flattop shot off plane after plane, as if they were projectiles.
They swung in the air and flew low to drop bombs in the now wabbling,
moving, sweeping patch of white stuff. It was a huge discoloration of
the ocean surface. It was almost in diameter as the flattop's length.
Now the carrier dodged it warily.
There were dull concussions everywhere. Giant squids writhed in
death-agonies. White foam-patches appeared here and there--but somehow
haphazardly--as if fumbling for the ships. One patch swept close to _La
Rubia_, and that small derelict seemed to tremble. And then the fishing
boat touched the very edge of the white stuff, and was engulfed in it.
She vanished instantly, as if she had fallen into a hole in the sea.
When the foam-patch passed on, the sea was empty.
The effect of the foam, actually, was that of a gigantic, slavering,
blind gullet straining to devour. It moved erratically over the surface.
Terry called to Deirdre, "Have Nick tell the flattop that the foam only
comes up from deep water. If they can get inside the hundred-fathom
curve they're safe! Maybe even five hundred. Maybe more. But the foam
only comes up from deep water!"
The mine layer came on from the horizon at topmost speed. Apparently,
they had received warning from the carrier, because the ship suddenly
began to zig-zag. The carrier itself adopted the unpredictable
change-of-course system which had been originally designed to frustrate
submarines lying in wait. Both ships adopted it just in time. A ravening
area of foam appeared directly before the mine layer's bow just as she
turned aside. The mine layer dumped a mine. Terry saw it go overboard.
But it would have five miles to sink before it hit bottom.
Terry called Davis and jerkily explained that the mines would have to be
armed when they went overboard--set so that they would explode when they
hit bottom. He explained that depth-bombs might be useful against
squids, but if they went off at a fixed depth they would be harmless
against the enemy which deployed the squids.
The carrier, in the middle of a ninety-degree zig-zag turn, found her
bow projecting into a foam-patch. The bow sank deep. The carrier's
propellers were out of the water as her bow pointed downward. Had the
foam stayed still for two seconds, the carrier would have slid into the
column of gigantic ascending bubbles and plunged to destruction. But the
foam swerved sidewise.
The carrier escaped, and was infinitely cautious after that. She made
short, swift, unpredictable dashes this way and that.... Her
anti-aircraft guns rumbled and rattled at things upon the surface.
Presently, her depth-finder discovered an underwater extension of the
island's mountain-foundation, and the ship took refuge where the water
was less than a hundred fathoms deep. There she lay, shooting off planes
and retrieving them, her guns flashing at whatever targets appeared.
Twice, as it happened, snaky, monstrous arms flung themselves up and
heaved at the flattop as if the giant squids hoped to overturn even an
aircraft carrier by their weight. But those arms were blasted to
nothingness. The only damage they did was that a twenty-foot section of
tentacle--writhing independently on the flight-deck--broke the
landing-gear of a returning plane which collided with it.
The mine layer ploughed across the sea. From time to time she heaved
something overboard. Nothing seemed to happen. But each mine was,
nevertheless, so adjusted that it could explode any time it touched
something underwater. They did not allow the usual time so that the mine
layer could get away. The mine layer had ample time, because the mines
had to go slowly spinning down five long miles to the bottom of the
Luzon Deep.
Twenty mines went down before the first one detonated. The concussion
was felt on the _Esperance_, twenty-seven thousand feet up and in
shallow water. Then another, and another, and another. The mine layer
continued to sow her destructive seed. Far behind her, a monstrous
spouting of gas and spume rose up hundreds of feet. There was another
concussion, and another....
The _Esperance_ quivered, and Terry said grimly to Deirdre, "We set off
five pounds of explosive down the Deep, and the bathyscaphe returned all
smashed. What will the creature do now? I wish we could get some mines
down to the bottom there!"
Davis came up, beaming--but shaking.
"The carrier's sending some planes down to drop eggs at the spot where
the fish were dragged down!" he said zestfully.
Gigantic, terrifying masses of gas leaped skyward where the gases
released by the exploding mines finally reached the surface. The mine
layer zig-zagged, and dropped a mine. She zig-zagged again, and dropped
another. Presently, she took refuge beside the carrier. The _Esperance_
drove over and came to a stop between the two armed vessels. Someone
shouted down by megaphone from the carrier's deck, "What happened to
you? What hit your bowsprit?"
Terry shouted back, "You shot those beasts. We've been wrestling with
'em!"
An enormous eruption of gas.... Then the underwater ear began to emit an
unprecedented sound. It was a rushing sound, but it was only vaguely
like the noise of whatever had come up from the depths last Tuesday
night. This was powerful beyond imagining.
"Something's coming up!" roared Terry. "Better alert for a real fight
now!"
Deirdre said with a little gasp, "The real creatures are coming up!
Terry! The ... things that come in the bolides...."
He said savagely, "They've been shaken up badly by the concussions
underwater. They resented five pounds of explosive! There's been four
hundred pounds in every mine! If they try to fight after what they've
taken down below...."
The rushing sound from underwater was a loud, throbbing hum which had no
relationship with the humming sound that drove fish. Two spoutings of
gas from mine-explosions shot up. There were more concussions in the
water.
Then something broke surface. It was huge, and looked like a rocket. It
leaped. No, it dashed upward, toward the sky. It flashed skyward,
accelerating as it rose. Something else broke the surface and headed for
the heavens. This one was globular.
There were dull concussions coming from far underwater, and more rockets
broke surface and shot skyward.
Anti-aircraft guns were fired. Shell-bursts came close, but not close
enough. Not less than twenty enormous rockets leaped out of the water
and shot up toward the sky. Some observers claimed there were more than
thirty. Down to southward, where the bathyscaphe had been crushed, the
planes that were dropping mines reported that four other objects broke
loose from the ocean and fled for empty space at speeds too great to be
estimated.
Terry looked suddenly astonished.
"But ... of course!" he told Deirdre. "When you need high pressure, of
course you've got a weakness. You can't take concussions! Anything
underwater is completely vulnerable to bombs! Whatever was down there
has found out that the natives--we aborigines--have a weapon they can't
face. Primitive stuff. Explosives! Chemical explosives! And creatures
that can travel between planets and undoubtedly have atomic power
and--who knows what else--can't fight back if we drop submarine mines on
them!"
A last object broke surface and hurtled skyward. Behind it, deep, deep
down, there was a titanic explosion.
"Ah!" said Terry. "That was a time-bomb! They've gone home for good!"
* * * * *
A task force of a private yacht, a fishing boat, a satellite-tracking
station, an airplane carrier and a mine layer had driven off an invasion
of earth. But the public could not be told that the earth had been
invaded. The people who had been involved in this secret adventure had
to be satisfied with the realization that they had saved mankind.
After a jubilant dinner Terry and Deirdre sat in the veranda.
Davis came out. He blinked at the night.
"Deirdre? Terry?"
"Here," said Terry.
Davis joined them. They had drawn apart a little.
"Good news by short-wave," said Davis. "Those rockets were picked up by
radar. They divided into two groups. One headed sunward. The other
headed for deep space. My guess is Venus for one group and Jupiter for
the other. They couldn't have come from Mars. But they've gone home.
Both groups."
Terry paused, and then said wryly, "Two races! Some of the bolides were
bullet-shaped and some were globular. That figures. But two races
capable of space travel and both in our own solar system!"
Davis grimaced. "We've been talking about it. Our guess is that the
Venus race developed in deep water, and therefore at high pressure. And
anything that developed on the solid surface of Jupiter would also be
accustomed to extremely high pressure."
Terry nodded. He was not exactly absorbed in what Davis had to say. But
he said suddenly, "I make a guess. They didn't want to start a colony
here. The sea-bottom here is too cold to be comfortable for the beings
from Venus, and far too hot to suit those from Jupiter. But both needed
terrific pressure. In order to keep contact with each other, in order to
do business, they could have set up a trading post here. To meet and
trade. Neither one could take over the earth. When you think of it, we
couldn't take over Venus or Jupiter! Maybe that's the answer!"
"Eh?" said Davis.
"We won't have to fight as planets," said Terry, "when we have
space-ships like they do. We couldn't gain anything by fighting. All we
can gain by is trade. They'll be pleased. It must have been horribly
inconvenient to have to set up a trading post here on earth. There were
always the natives, you know. Lately, they've noticed that we've been
getting restless. We have been. I imagine that now they'll wait for us
to make space-ships and start up interplanetary trade."
Davis said, "Very true. There's going to be the devil of a mess, though.
Morton will still have to explain the accuracy of his prediction about
the bolides' landings. I suspect he'll be censured for assuming anything
as unlikely as the truth has turned out to be."
Terry did not answer. Deirdre was saying something, and he did not hear
at all.
"There are still loose ends," added Davis. "For instance, how do you
suppose they controlled those squids down below? What did they use for
eyesight? How the devil would Jovians and Venusians agree on a meeting
place in our oceans?"
Terry answered what Deirdre'd said. She smiled at him. They'd forgotten
that Davis was there.