Humanx - Cachalot Part 58

Its hull was reinforced duralloy, the same material that made up the skin of starships.

It could dive all the way to the bottom of the can- yon, and considerably farther if need be. Usually it

carried no weapons, being a creature of science and not of war. But along with the usual complement of exploratory devices, it also carried several small but ^ powerfully shaped charges for rock detonation. One ( such charge properly placed could dent the submers- ibie's own incredibly tough epidermis. Several prop- erly placed could breach it. Or any similar hull.

Hwoshien insisted on joining the exploration. Sam Mataroreva would go along in his capacity as the local authority's princ.i.p.al representative. Merced, Cora, and Rachael all were able to handle deep- diving submersibles, and in any case, had not come so far to be denied a look at their tormentors. The only argument over procedure arose when Rachael insisted on taking her neurophon. There was some acrimonious discussion between her and her mother in which "neuronics" and "neurotic" became con- fused, but eventually Rachael had her way.

Cora had gained no support from her companions.

The submersible was surprisingly roomy, designed for a crew of six. While it could not be called s.p.a.cious, the five of them managed to move about without b.u.mping into one another. And the gentle music pro- vided by Rachael was welcomed by most as they commenced a long descent into total darkness.

Mataroreva and Cora operated the controls. At three hundred meters Wenkoseemansa and Lateboht gave wishes and farewells before turning back. A cl.u.s.ter of large catodons continued to descend with the craft, turning back one by one as the air left them.

But by now the submersible had long since entered the realm of night.

Instrumentation continually probed the depths be- low, and continued to reveal nothing. Powerful lights flashed only on startled fish and other denizens of the dark.

Lumpjaw strained muscles and lung capacity to ac- company them to nearly twenty-one hundred meters

246.

CACHALOT.

CACHALOT.

247.

before he was forced to turn surfaceward. He startled them all by wishing them unmistakable, if indirect, good luck. It was the first kind word one of the great whales had spoken to them since Cora had been on Cachalot. Extraordinary circ.u.mstances, she re- flected, always prompted extraordinary reactions.

Darkness reached its limits, pressure did not. Yet despite the inhospitable surroundings, life continued to thrive, further testament to the burgeoning fe- cundity of Cachalot's world-ocean. Fantastically il- luminated life-forms swarmed around the submersible, alternately drawn to or frightened and confused by its

lights.

"Four thousand meters." Merced hovered near

Cora's shoulders, studying the console.

An incredible ribbon of pale blue and green lumi- nescence spasmed a path past the thick ports. It seemed endless, though she estimated its length at about twenty-five meters. It was perhaps five centi- meters thick save near the bulging jaws that were filled with dozens of thin needle teeth.

Star-dotted balloons drifted by, avoiding relatives with stomachs larger than mouths. Others possessed more teeth than seemed reasonable for such small creatures, while a couple mooned at the sub with eyes larger than the rest of their bodies.

At forty-five hundred meters Cora thought she heard distant antique church bells. At forty-eight hun- dred meters the ringing had become a steady hum.

At five thousand meters it was as if she had people seated on either side of her, whispering frantic non- sense into her ears. The sounds were not words, nor were they spoken by people.

"Trying to control us, whoever they are," Merced declared. "Irritating, but nothing more. Like listening to loud music for too long."

"I agree." Mataroreva eased back on his controls.

"It's not working for them, though."

Five thousand six hundred meters.

"We're practically on bottom here," Mataroreva grumbled. "Our scan's been omnidirectional since we started down. Even if they were hiding in some cave or beneath an overhang, we'd have detected them by now. There's nothing here."

"That's right," Cora agreed readily, sounding tired.

"Whoever they are, they must have fled when they realized they couldn't control us. Might as well sur- face and try another place."

"I fear you are both correct." Hwoshien was under- standably disappointed. "We gave it a good try.

Perhaps other baleens can relocate them for us."

Mataroreva reached to adjust a control to begin their upward climb. Just before he fingered it, a small hand locked on his wrist. He looked back in surprise at Merced. The little scientist wore a very puzzled expression.

"Wait a minute, now. Don't you think this retreat is a bit premature? I'd hardly say we're practically on the bottom. We've another several thousand meters below us. Let's go at least another thousand before we give up here."

Mataroreva regarded him as one would an idiot child. "I said that we're nearly down."

Merced continued to eye him uncertainly.

" 'Nearly'?" He used his free hand to indicate the computer picture of the bottom and the figures nearby. "We're at fifty-six hundred. Scanner shows this abyssal canyon drops to eight thousand in places.

We're only a little over two-thirds of the way down."

Mataroreva sounded distinctly irritated. "You heard what I said about our omnidirectional scanners.

I say we've already done the best we could. We'd only be wasting time here if we go farther. Better to try another spot."

Merced looked at Cora. "You feel the same way?"

"Of course!" She had never liked the researcher.

248 .

His present inexplicable obstinacy increased that dis- like.

"And you, and you?"

Rachael nodded solemnly. Hwoshien said, "We've done as well as could be expected. If there ever was anything here, it's obviously gone now. We frightened

it off."

Merced let go of Mataroreva, moved carefully to- ward the rear of the chamber. Cora wondered if his shy control was beginning to crack. She found herself looking around for some kind of weapon.

" 'If there ever was anything here'?" Merced said, echoing the Commissioner's accent as well as his words. "Not only was there something, but I'll wager

it's still present."

"What the h.e.l.l are you raving about?" Mataroreva started to get up from his seat. "Listen, I don't know what's going on inside your head, Pucara, but maybe

you'd better-"

From an inside pocket Merced produced a very tiny but efficient-looking gun. "These darts are mini- atures of the ones Hazaribagh's people threatened us with, but they'll still put a grown man flat on his back.

I'd rather not shoot anyone."