_Sacrifice_
At that moment Keith Wells knew fear. Each second they were being
hauled closer to the monster's dim lair. It lay there, dark,
mysterious, fingered by gently swaying, clammy kelp. A hushed solitude
seemed to reign over it, aweing all undersea life from the
vicinity.... Wells turned his head to meet Bowman's eyes, and read in
them a silent question.
What now?
He groaned in the agony of his mind. In a few minutes, all would be
over. Once the _NX-1_ was dragged into that dark cavern there'd be no
chance of escaping to warn the world above, of saving the submarine.
What now? The question brought beads of sweat to his tormented brow.
He, Keith Wells, standing impotently by while his ship, the pride of
the service, was hauled inch by inch to some strange doom!
Racked by these thoughts, he murmured tortured, jerky phrases,
unconscious he was giving voice to the things that flogged his brain.
"What can I do? I've got to save my ship--I've got to get back to
break the news--I've got to tell the world! But how? How--" His
expression changed suddenly. "That's it! That hawser arm between us
must be broken!"
"Yes."
First Officer Hemingway Bowman's clear voice broke in on the older
man's thoughts with that one crisp word. Keith swung to find the
other's eyes fixed levelly on his.
"You're right, Keith. The hawser arm must be broken; with a depth
charge, of course. It's the only way.
"To attach a depth charge," he continued evenly, "a man must leave the
ship. You can't, Keith. It will be me."
* * * * *
The commander did not speak. "I'll put on a sea-suit," Hemmy went on
quickly, eyes lighting. "You tip the submarine and I'll slide out the
conning tower exit port on the lee side, so they can't see me, and
worm forward through the kelp. We're almost holding them even; that'll
be easy. I'll be protected from the paralyzing shock until the last
second, and it may not get me outside; that'll have to be chanced. The
hawser arm's only some ten feet above the sea-floor; I can reach it
with a hook on the charge." He paused.
"I'll attach it; and when it bursts I'll try to get back and grab that
ring on the midships exit port, and you can let me in when we get to
the surface. But if I take too long, Keith--if I miss--you beat it
without me. You understand? Beat it!"
He gazed straight at his friend. "Understand, Keith?"
Commander Keith Wells bowed his head in acquiescence. He was afraid
that if he met Hemmy Bowman's steady eyes he'd make a fool of
himself....
Hemmy glanced at the screen once more, shivering as he saw how near
the black cavern was. Then he moved rapidly, playing the cards
carefully for his gamble with death. He had to: the trumps were in the
other hand.
From the locker where their sea-suits were stowed he grabbed his own,
and with quick fingers ripped the slides and fitted it on. A sheath of
yellow Lestofabrik, its weighted feet and gleaming casque transformed
his slim figure into a giant such as might stalk through a nightmare.
Built cunningly into the helmet was a tiny radio transmitter and
receiver, with a range of a quarter-mile; hugging to the shoulders,
inside nestled the air-making mechanism, its tiny generators already
in motion. Around the helmet was fastened a small removable
undersea-light. The wrists of the suit were very flexible, permitting
the freest motion.
Once in the suit, Hemmy smiled through the still-opened face-shield.
"Got the depth charge ready, Keith? Make it fast--that cavern's
near!... Good!"
* * * * *
Silently the commander fitted the black bomb to his friend's
shoulders. It was timed to fire a minute after being set. A long wire
hook craned from its top, and this hook Bowman would fasten on the
hawser arm.
"Without Sparks, I guess I'll have to communicate with you through
portable," Keith said, and quickly donned one of the tiny portable
sets.
"Right. Ready, Keith."
Bowman started his awkward, crawling progress up the ladder into the
conning tower just above, Keith helping from behind. When they stood
before the exit port on the lee side, Wells shot back its bolts and
the door swung open, revealing the black emptiness of the water
chamber. The commander gazed for a second into Bowman's eyes. The
moment had come.
Keith turned his head away, felt a hand grip his. He wrung it
tightly....
Bowman clumped into the chamber.
The commander closed and locked the door, and he heard the streaming
water pour in as Hemmy turned the valve. Then Wells sped down the
ladder and tilted the diving and course rudders of the submarine.
She swayed daintily over to port; held there. A moment later the
recurring electric tingle brushed him. Had the enemy seen Bowman
leave? Had the ray struck him down?
He glared into the teleview. "Thank God!" he breathed. For Hemmy had
already slid down the _NX-1's_ smooth hull and was safe on the
sea-floor beside her.
"Everything right?" Wells asked, speaking into the microphone of his
portable.
"All O.K.," came the answer. "Going forward now. Kelp thick as hell."
* * * * *
Keith's eyes bored at the screen. This misshapen monster who was his
friend! Almost obscured by bands of thick-leaved kelp the yellow form
moved, hands clearing a pathway through the weeds. Slowly but surely
he made for the bow of the submersible.
"Hard going, Keith. God--the cavern's right ahead!"
It was ghostly to hear Hemmy's warm voice from the lifeless solitude
outside. Breath coming quickly, Wells watched the silent scene--the
cleft in the wall of rock overshadowing everything now. The diver
fought ahead, gaining inch by inch.
Now, save for occasional clumps of weed, he was exposed to the
enemy.... Now the last desperate gauntlet was reached.... Keith felt
his blood pound hotly.
"I'm gaining, Keith. Gaining...."
Bowman had little breath for speech. His tiny form battled on, now
sinking from sight as he dropped into some masked gully, now wrestling
slowly with great swaying strands of kelp, but always struggling
ahead.
"I'm at the bow, Keith! The hawser arm's right in our mooring holes.
I'll go halfway before fastening the charge. Any signs of life from
the devil?"
"None yet, Hemmy. But go slow. Hide all you can, old man, for God's
sake!..."
Right beneath the metal arm, Bowman's dwarfed figure crept doggedly
ahead. Forward, inch by breathless inch. Kelp thickened, washed away;
the two hulking submersibles, captor and captive, surged onward--but
just a little faster went the valiant figure with the black charge on
its back.
The towing monster had its snout in the cavern. The darkness
thickened. Bowman was quarter way!
He plunged desperately. Half way!
"I'm there, Keith! Now for it!"
"Oh, God!" Wells cried. "They see you; they're coming!"
For he had seen strange shapes leaving the enemy submarine.
And at that same moment, Bowman saw them, too.
* * * * *
They came like the blink of a dark eye from a door that had quickly
slid open in the mysterious ship's bow. As tall as a man they were,
and there were two of them, though at first the nature of their
bodies merged with the wreathing kelp made them seem like a dozen.
Bowman stared at them, hypnotized with fear. His legs and arms went
dead, and his whole gallant spirit seemed to slump into lifeless clay.
Now he knew why the fishermen had shrieked "machine-fish." Each one of
them had eight tapering arms, eight restless tentacles. These were
octopi, most hideous scavengers of the ocean floor! And not only
octopi--but octopi sheathed in metal-scaled armor!
As they came closer, he realized this preposterous fact. The dark
substance of their writhing tentacles was not flesh: it was a coat of
metal scales. And the fat central mass which held their eyes and vital
organs and beaked jaw--this mass was completely enveloped by a globe
of glass. From inside, he could see great eyes staring at him. The
monsters came towards him quite slowly, obviously wary, advancing over
the sea-floor in what was a hideous mockery of walking, their forward
tentacles outstretched.
With a sob, Hemmy Bowman pulled himself from his trance. He glanced
back at the _NX-1_. He still had time to retreat. He might be able to
get back inside before these monsters seized him.
But that meant abandoning his job. And already his own submarine was
nosing into the cavern. The choice between the octopi and retreat
stared him in the face. He pulled himself together and jerked his arms
back to action.
* * * * *
Eyes bulging, Keith Wells peered at the dim teleview screen. He saw
the creatures approaching Hemmy. And then, suddenly, he remembered his
radiophone.
"Hemmy! Come back, for God's sake!" he cried. "Come back while you
can--it's hopeless!"
But Bowman had already seized the depth charge from his back and
hooked it on the hawser arm above.
Immediately, with that action, all caution fled from the approaching
monsters. Their tentacles whipped furiously; and in a great arc they
sprang for the tiny figure of the diver.
With a deep breath, Hemmy staggered forward to meet them. "Keith!" he
gasped. "I'll try to hold 'em away from the charge! When it bursts,
zoom! Zoom like hell to the surface!" And then the tentacles had him.
Keith watched, cursing his impotence to help. Hemmy had no weapon; he
was trying to hold them back by the weight of his body; he reached out
and grasped a tentacle and hugged it to him, shoving forward with all
his puny strength. But all his effort was as nothing. One of the
octopi writhed past him and darted onto the depth charge. Its
tentacles tugged at the bomb; pulled furiously.
The time charge exploded. The _NX-1_ rocked like a quivering reed;
Wells was knocked violently to the floor; a vast roar smote his
ear-drums. When he staggered to his feet he found that the octopus
that was pulling at the charge had disappeared--blown into fragments
of flesh and metal. But the hawser arm was broken! The _NX-1_, free,
shot back a full fifty feet under the pull of her reversed screws. A
cry echoed in her commander's ears:
"Go back, Keith! Go like hell!"
He saw the remaining octopus lift Bowman and whip to the exit port of
its submarine. The lid slid into place, closing on the monster and his
friend, and the enemy ship vanished into the black cavern....
* * * * *
Once clear of the opening, Keith set his motors full forward and
brought the diving rudders up. Quickly the ship sped from the haunted
sea-floor to the sun-warmed surface. A last thin call rang in his
radiophone:
"They've got me inside, Keith. It's dark, and filled with water. I
can't see anything, but I--I guess we're going through the cavern....
Forget about me, old boy. So long! So--"
The voice was abruptly cut off.
Keith ripped the instrument from his head. Then, face white and drawn,
he ran to the radio cubby. Standing over Sparks' inert body, he put
through a call to Robert Knapp, on the _Falcon_.
"Knapp?" he said harshly. "This is Wells. I'll be with you in a few
minutes. Yes--yes--I'll tell you the whole story later. But get this
now: Have the day shift all ready to take over the submarine by the
time I pull alongside."
He said no more just then; but rang off, and, looking back, he
muttered savagely:
"But I'll be back, Hemmy--I'll be back!"