The Deep Range - Arthur C. Clarke [54]
“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.”
“If 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 structure; at four hundred feet there was no longer any doubt; at three hundred 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, serpentine 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 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 Franklin’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 damage. 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 stem 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