From the Ocean from teh Stars (18 page)

"If Dr. Roberts has any practical plan, I'll be glad to discuss it with
him. It's certainly a very interesting project."

That, thought Franklin, was the understatement of the year. But he
was not the sort of man who ever waxed too enthusiastic over any enterprise, having long ago decided that this always resulted in eventual dis
appointment. If "Operation Percy" came off, it would be the most excit
ing job he had ever had in his five years as a warden. But it was too good
to be true; something would turn up to cancel the whole project.

It did not. Less than a month later, he was dropping down to the sea
bed in a specially modified deep-water scout. Two hundred feet behind
him, Don Burley was following in a second machine. It was the first time
they had worked together since those far-off days on Heron Island, but
when Franklin had been asked to choose his partner he had automat
ically thought of Don. This was the chance of a lifetime, and Don would
never forgive him if he selected anyone else.

Franklin sometimes wondered if Don resented his own rapid rise in
the service. Five years ago, Don had been a first warden; Franklin, a
completely inexperienced trainee. Now they were both first wardens, and
before long Franklin would probably be promoted again. He did not al
together welcome this, for, though he was ambitious enough, he knew
that the higher he rose in the bureau the less time he would spend at sea. Perhaps Don knew what he was doing; it was very hard to picture him
settling down in an office. . . .

"Better try your lights," said Don's voice from the speaker. "Doc
Roberts wants me to get a photograph of you."

"Right," Franklin replied. "Here goes."

"My—you
do
look pretty! If I was another squid, I'm sure I'd find
you irresistible. Swing broadside a minute. Thanks. Talk about a Christ
mas tree! It's the first time I've ever seen one making ten knots at six
hundred fathoms."

Franklin grinned and switched off the illuminations. This idea of Dr.
Roberts' was simple enough, but it remained to be seen if it would work. In the lightless abyss, many creatures carry constellations of luminous organs which they can switch on or off at will, and the giant squid, with
its enormous eyes, is particularly sensitive to such lights. It uses them not
only to lure its prey into its clutches, but also to attract its mates. If
squids were as intelligent as they were supposed to be, thought Franklin,
Percy would soon see through his disguise. It would be ironic, however,
if a deep-diving sperm whale was deceived and he had an unwanted fight
on his hands.

The rocky bottom was now only five hundred feet below, every detail
of it clearly traced on the short-range sonar scanner. It looked like an
unpromising place for a search; there might be countless caves here in which Percy could hide beyond all hope of detection. On the other hand,
the whales had detected him—to their cost. And anything that Physeter
can do, Franklin told himself, my sub can do just as well.

"We're in luck," said Don. "The water's as clear as I've ever seen it down here. As long as we don't stir up any mud, we'll be able to see a
couple of hundred feet."

That was important; Franklin's luminous lures would be useless if
the water was too turbid for them to be visible. He switched on the ex
ternal TV camera, and quickly located the faint glow of Don's starboard
light, two hundred feet away. Yes, this was extremely good luck; it should
simplify their task enormously.

Franklin tuned in to the nearest beacon and fixed his position with
the utmost accuracy. To make doubly sure, he got Don to do the same,
and they split the difference between them. Then, cruising slowly on
parallel courses, they began their careful search of the sea bed.

It was unusual to find bare rock at such a depth, for the ocean bed is
normally covered with a layer of mud and sediment hundreds or even thousands of feet thick. There must, Franklin decided, be powerful cur
rents scouring this area clear—but there was certainly no current now,
as his drift meter assured him. It was probably seasonal, and associated
with the ten-thousand-foot-deeper cleft of the Miller Canyon, only five
miles away,

Every few seconds, Franklin switched on his pattern of colored lights,
then watched the screen eagerly to see if there was any response. Be
fore long he had half a dozen fantastic deep-sea fish following him— nightmare creatures, two or three feet long, with enormous jaws and
ridiculously attenuated feelers and tendrils trailing from their bodies. The
lure of his lights apparently overcame their fear of his engine vibration,
which was an encouraging sign. Though his speed quickly left them behind, they were continually replaced by new monsters, no two of which
appeared to be exactly the same.

Franklin paid relatively little attention to the TV screen; the longer-
range senses of the sonar, warning him of what lay in the thousand feet
ahead of him, were more important. Not only had he to keep a lookout
for his quarry, but he had to avoid rocks and hillocks which might sud
denly rear up in the track of the sub. He was doing only ten knots, which was slow enough, but it required all his concentration. Sometimes he felt
as if he was flying at treetop height over hilly country in a thick fog
₀

They traveled five uneventful miles, then made a hairpin turn and
came back on a parallel course. If they were doing nothing else, thought
Franklin, at least they were producing a survey of this area in more
detail than it had ever been mapped before. Both he and Don were
operating with their recorders on, so that the profile of the sea bed be
neath them was being automatically mapped.

"Whoever said this was an exciting life?" said Don when they made
their fourth turn. "I've not even seen a baby octopus. Maybe we're scaring the squids away."

"Roberts said they're not very sensitive to vibrations, so I don't think
that's likely. And somehow I feel that Percy isn't the sort who's easily
scared."

"// he exists," said Don skeptically.

"Don't forget those six-inch sucker marks. What do you think made
them—mice?"

"Hey!" said Don. "Have a look at that echo on bearing 250, range
750 feet. Looks like a rock, but I thought it moved then."

Another false alarm, Franklin told himself. No—the echo did seem
a bit fuzzy. By God, it
was
moving!

"Cut speed to half a knot," he ordered. "Drop back behind me—I'll
creep up slowly and switch on my lights."

"It's a weird-looking echo. Keeps changing size all the time."

"That sounds like our boy. Here we go."

The sub was now moving across an endless, slightly tilted plain, still
accompanied by its inquisitive retinue of finned dragons. On the TV
screen all objects were lost in the haze at a distance of about a hundred
and fifty feet; the full power of the ultraviolet projectors could probe the
water no farther than this. Franklin switched off his headlights and all
external illumination, and continued his cautious approach using the
sonar screen alone.

At five hundred feet the echo began to show its unmistakable struc
ture; at four hundred feet there was no longer any doubt; at three hun
dred feet Franklin's escort of fish suddenly fled at high speed as if aware that this was no healthy spot. At two hundred feet he turned on his visual
lures, but he waited a few seconds before switching on the searchlights
and TV.

A forest was walking across the sea bed—a forest of writhing, ser
pentine trunks. The great squid froze for a moment as if impaled by the searchlights; probably it could see them, though they were invisible to
human eyes. Then it gathered up its tentacles with incredible swiftness,

folding itself into a compact, streamlined mass—and shot straight toward
the sub under the full power of its own jet propulsion.

It swerved at the last minute, and Franklin caught a glimpse of a huge
and lidless eye that must have been at least a foot in diameter. A second
later there was a violent blow on the hull, followed by a scraping sound
as of great claws being dragged across metal. Franklin remembered the
scars he had so often seen on the blubbery hides of sperm whales, and
was glad of the thickness of steel that protected him. He could hear the wiring of his external illumination being ripped away; no matter—it had
served its purpose.

It was impossible to tell what the squid was doing; from time to time
the sub rocked violently, but Franklin made no effort to escape. Unless
things got a little too rough, he proposed to stay here and take it.

"Can you see what he's doing?" he asked Don, rather plaintively.

"Yes—he's got his eight arms wrapped around you, and the two big tentacles are waving hopefully at me. And he's going through the most beautiful color changes you can imagine—I can't begin to describe them. I wish I knew whether he's really trying to eat you—or whether he's just
being affectionate."

"Whichever it is, it's not very comfortable. Hurry up and take your
photos so that I can get out of here."

"Right—give me another couple of minutes so I can get a movie
sequence as well. Then I'll try to plant my harpoon."

It seemed a long two minutes, but at last Don had finished. Percy
still showed none of the shyness which Dr. Roberts had rather confidently
predicted, though by this time he could hardly have imagined that Frank
lin's sub was another squid.

Don planted his dart with neatness and precision in the thickest part
of Percy's mantle, where it would lodge securely but would do no dam
age. At the sudden sting, the great mollusk abruptly released its grip, and
Franklin took the opportunity for going full speed ahead. He felt the
horny palps grating over the stern of the sub; then he was free and rising
swiftly up toward the distant sky. He felt rather pleased that he had
managed to escape without using any of the battery of weapons that had
been provided for this very purpose.

Don followed him at once, and they circled five hundred feet above
the sea bed—far beyond visual range. On the sonar screen the rocky
bottom was a sharply defined plane, but now at its center pulsed a tiny, brilliant star. The little beacon—less than six inches long and barely an
inch wide—that had been anchored in Percy was already doing its job.

It would continue to operate for more than a week before its batteries
failed.

"We've tagged him!" cried Don gleefully. "Now he can't hide."

"As long as he doesn't get rid of that dart," said Franklin cautiously. "If he works it out, we'll have to start looking for him all over again."

"I
aimed it," pointed out Don severely. "Bet you ten to one it stays
put."

"If I've learned one thing in this game," said Franklin, "it's not to
accept your bets." He brought the drive up to maximum cruising power,
and pointed the sub's nose to the surface, still more than half a mile
away. "Let's not keep Doc Roberts waiting—the poor man will be crazy
with impatience. Besides, I want to see those pictures myself. It's the first time I've ever played a starring role with a giant squid."

And this, he reminded himself, was only the curtain raiser. The main
feature had still to begin.

☆
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

How nice it is," said Franklin, as he relaxed lazily
in the contour-form chair on the porch, "to have a wife who's not scared
stiff of the job I'm doing."

"There are times when I am," admitted Indra. "I don't like these
deep-water operations. If anything goes wrong down there, you don*t
have a chance."

"You can drown just as easily in ten feet of water as ten thousand."

"That's silly, and you know it. Besides, no warden has ever been
killed by drowning, as far as I've ever heard. The things that happen to
them are never as nice and simple as that."

"I'm sorry I started this conversation," said Franklin ruefully, glanc
ing around to see if Peter was safely out of earshot. "Anyway, you're not
worried about Operation Percy, are you?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm as anxious as everybody else to see you
catch him—and I'm still more interested to see if Dr. Roberts can keep
him alive." She rose to her feet and walked over to the bookshelf recess
into the wall. Plowing through the usual pile of papers and magazines
that had accumulated there, she finally unearthed the volume for which
she was looking.

"Listen to this," she continued, "and remember that it was written