The hills drifted behind. They were the frontier posts, as Jan could see from the charts, of a wide plain which lay at too great a depth for the scanners to reach.
The submarine continued on its gentle downward glide. Now another picture was beginning to form on the screen:
because of the angle of view, it was some tune before Jan could interpret what he saw. Then he realized that they were approaching a submerged mountain, jutting up from the hidden plain.
The picture was dearer now: at this short range the definition of the scanners improved and the view was almost as distinct as if the image was being formed by light-waves. Jan could see fine detail, could watch the strange fish that pursued each other among the rocks. Once a venomous-looking creature with gaping jaws swam slowly across a half-concealed cleft. So swiftly that the eye could not follow the movement, a long tentacle flashed out and dragged the struggling fish down to its doom.
“Nearly there,”.said the pilot. “You’ll be able to see the lab in a minute.”
They were travelling slowly above a spur of rock jutting out from the base of the mountain. The plain beneath was now coming into view: Jan guessed that they were not more than a few hundred metres above the sea-bed. Then he saw, a kilometre or so ahead, a cluster of spheres standing on tripod legs, and joined together by connecting tubes. It looked exactly like the tanks of some chemical plant, and indeed was designed on the same basic principles. The only difference was that here the pressures which had to be resisted were outside, not within.
“What’s that?” gasped Jan suddenly. He pointed a shaky
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finger towards -the nearest sphere. The curious pattern of lines on its surftce had resolved itself into a network of giant tentacles. As the submarine came closer, he could see that they ended in a great, pulpy bag, from which peered a pair of enormous eyes.
“That,” said the pilot indifferently, “is probably Lucifer. Someone’s been feeding him again.” He threw a switch and leaned over the control desk.
“S.2 calling Lab. I’m connecting up. Will you shoo away your pet?”
The reply came promptly.
“Lab to S.2. O.K.-go ahead and make contact. Lucey will get out of the way.”
The curving metal walls began to fill the screen. Jan caught a last glimpse of a giant, sucker-studded arm whipping away at their approach. Then there was a dull clang, and a series of scratching noises as the clamps sought for their locking points on the submarine’s smooth, oval hull. In a few minutes the vessel was pressed tightly against the wall of the base, the two entrance ports had locked together, and were moving forward through the hull of the submarine at the end of a giant hollow screw. Then came the “pressure equalized” signal, the batches unsealed, and the way into Deep Sea Lab One was open.
Jan found Professor Sullivan in a small, untidy room that seemed to combine the attributes of office, workshop and laboratory. He was peeping through a microscope into what looked like a small bomb. Presumably it was a pressure-capsule containing some specimen of deep-sea life, still swimming happily around under its normal tons-to-the-square-centimetre conditions.
‘Well,” said Sullivan, dragging himself away from the eyepiece. “How’s Rupert? And what can we do for you?”
“Rupert’s fine,” replied Jan. “He sends his best wishes, and says he’d love to visit you if it weren’t for his claustrophobia.”
“Then he’d certainly feel a little unhappy down here, with five kilometres of water on top of him. Doesn’t it worry you, by the way?”
Jan shrugged his shoulders.
“No more than being in a stratoliner. If anything went wrong, the result would be the same in either case.”
“That’s the sensible approach, but it’s surprising how few
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people see it that way.” Sullivan toyed with the controls of his microscope, then shot Jan an inquisitive glance.
“I’ll be very glad to show you around,” he said, “but I must confess I was a little surprised when Rupert passed on your
request. I couldn’t understand why one of you spacehounds~.
should be interested in our work. Aren’t you going in the wrong direction?” He gave a chuckle of amusement. “Personally, I’ve never seen why you were in such a hurry to get~ out there. It will be centuries before we’ve got everything ln~ the oceans nicely charted and pigeonholed.”
Jan took a deep breath. He was glad that Sullivan had .~, broached the subject himself; fbr it made his task that much easier. Despite the ichthyologist’s jest, they had a great deal in common. It should not be too hard to build a bridge, to enlist Sullivan’s sympathy and aid. He was a man of imagination, or he would never have invaded this underwater world. But Jan would have to be cautious, for the request he was going to make was, to say the least of it, somewhat unconventional.
There was one fact that gave him confidence. Even if Sullivan refused to cooperate, he would certainly keep Jan’s secret. And here in this quiet little office on thc bed of the Pacific, there seemed no danger that the Overlords-whatever strange powers they possessed-would be able to listen to their conversation.
“Professor Sullivan,” he began, “if you were interested in the ocean, but the Overlords refused to let you go near it, how would you feel?”
“Exceedingly annoyed, no doubt.”
“I’m sure you would. And suppose, one day, you had a chance of achieving your goal, without them knowing, what would you do? Would you take the opportunity?”
Sullivan never hesitated.
“Of course. And argue later.”
Right into my hsnds~ thought Jan. He can’t retreat now-unless he’s afraid of the Overlords. And I doubt if Sullivan is afraid of anything. He leaned forward across the cluttered table and prepared to present his case.
Professor Sullivan was no fool. Before Jan could speak, his lips twisted into a sardonic smile.
“So that’s the game, is it?” he said slowly. “Very, very Interesting! Now you go right ahead and tell me why I should help you-”
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12
earlier age would have regarded Professor Suffivan as an
expensive luxury. His operations cost as much as a small war:
indeed, he could be likened to a general conducting a perpetual campaign against an enemy who never relaxed. Professor Sullivan’s enemy waS the sea, and it fought him with weapons of cold and darkness-and, above all, pressure. In his turn, he countered his adversary with intelligence and engineering skill. He bad won many victories, but the sea was patient: it could wait. One day, Sullivan knew, he would make a mistake.
At least he had the consolation of knowing that he could never drown. It would be far too quick for that
He had refused to commit himself one way or the other when Jan made his request, but he knew what his answer was going to be. Here was the opportunity for a most interesting experiment. It was a pity that he would never know the result; still, that happened often enough in scientific research, and he had initiatedother programmes thatwould take decades to complete.
Professor Sullivan was a brave and an intelligent man, but looking back on his career he was conscious of the fact that it had not brought him the sort of fame that sends a scientist’s name safely down all the centuries. Here was a chance, totally unexpected and all the more attractive for that, of really establishing himself in the history books. It was not an ambition he would ever have admitted to anybody-and, to do him justice, he would still have helped Jan even if his part in the plot remained forever secret
As for Jan, he was now having second thoughts. The momentum of his original discovery had carried him thus far almost without effort. He had made his investigations, but had taken no active steps to turn his dream into reality. In $ few days, however, he must make his choice. If Professor Sullivan agreed to cooperate, there was no way in which he could retreat. He must face the future he had chosen, with all its Implications.
What finally decided him was the thought that, If he neglected this incredible opportunity, he would never forgive himself. All the rest of his life would be spent in vain regrets-and nothing could be worse than that.
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Sullivan’s answer reached him a few hours later, and he knew that the die was cast. Slowly, because there was still plenty of time, he began to put his affairs in order.
“Dear Maia [the letter began]. This is going to be-to put it mildly-rather a surprise for you. When you get this letter, I shall no longer be on Earth. By that I don’t mean that I shall have gone to theMoon, as many others have done. No: I shall be on my way to the home of the Overlords. I shall be the ~rst man ever to leave the Solar System.