The Ocean of the Blind Read online

  “I will bend down to get a better view, then. How is that?"

  “Better. This is great stuff.” Rob checked the drone image. “Uh, Henri, why are they all facing toward you?"

  “We must capture it,” says Longpincer. “I don't remember reading about anything like this."

  “How to capture something we can barely make out?” asks Broadtail.

  “Surround it,” suggests Smoothshell. She calls to the others. “Here, quickly! Form a circle!"

  With a lot of clicking questions the other members of the Bitterwater Company gather around—except for Sharpfrill, who is far too absorbed in placing his little colonies of temperature indicators on the vent.

  “Keep pinging steadily,” says Longpincer. “As hard as you can. Who has a net?"

  “Here!” says Raggedclaw.

  “Good. Can you make it out? Get the net on it!"

  The thing starts to swim upward clumsily, churning up lots of sediment and making a faint but audible swishing noise with its tails. Under Longpincer's direction the Company form a box around it, like soldiers escorting a convoy. Raggedclaw gets above it with the net. There is a moment of struggling as the thing tries to dodge aside, then the scientists close in around it.

  It cuts at the net with a sharp claw, and kicks with its limbs. Broadtail feels the claw grate along his shell. Longpincer and Roundhead move in with ropes, and soon the thing's limbs are pinned. It sinks to the bottom.

  “I suggest we take it to my laboratory,” says Longpincer. “I am sure we all wish to study this remarkable creature."

  It continues to struggle, but the netting and ropes are strong enough to hold it. Whatever it is, it's too heavy to carry swimming, so the group must walk along the bottom with their catch while Longpincer swims ahead to fetch servants with a litter to help. They all ping about them constantly, fearful that more of the strange silent creatures are lurking about.

  “Robert! In the name of God, help me!” The laser link was full of static and skips, what with all the interference from nets, Ilmatarans, and sediment. The video image of Henri degenerated into a series of still shots illustrating panic, terror, and desperation.

  “Don't worry!” he called back, although he had no idea what to do. How could he rescue Henri without revealing himself and blowing all the contact protocols to hell? For that matter, even if he did reveal himself, how could he overcome half a dozen full-grown Ilmatarans?

  “Ah, bon Dieu!” Henri started what sounded like praying in French. Rob muted the audio to give himself a chance to think, and because it didn't seem right to listen in.

  He tried to list his options. Call for help? Too far from the station, and it would take an hour or more for a sub to arrive. Go charging in to the rescue? Rob really didn't want to do that, and not just because it was against the contact regs. On the other hand he didn't like to think of himself as a coward, either. Skip that one and come back to it.

  Create a distraction? That might work. He could fire up the hydrophone and make a lot of noise, maybe use the drones as decoys. The Ilmatarans might drop Henri to go investigate, or run away in terror. Worth a shot, anyway.

  He sent the two drones in at top speed, and searched through his computer's sound library for something suitable to broadcast. “Ride of the Valkyries"? Tarzan yells? “O Fortuna"? No time to be clever; he selected the first item in the playlist and started blasting Billie Holiday as loud as the drone speakers could go. Rob left his camera gear with Henri's impeller, and used his own to get a little closer to the group of Ilmatarans carrying Henri.

  Broadtail hears the weird sounds first, and alerts the others. The noise is coming from a pair of swimming creatures he doesn't recognize, approaching fast from the left. The sounds are unlike anything he remembers—a mix of low tones, whistles, rattles, and buzzes. There is an underlying rhythm, and Broadtail is sure this is some kind of animal call, not just noise.

  The swimmers swoop past low overhead, then, amazingly, circle around together for another pass, like trained performing animals. “Do those creatures belong to Longpincer?” Broadtail asks the others.

  “I don't think so,” says Smoothshell. “I don't remember seeing them in his house."

  “Does anyone have a net?"

  “Don't be greedy,” says Roundhead. “This is a valuable specimen. We shouldn't risk it to chase after others."

  Broadtail starts to object, but he realizes Roundhead is right. This thing is obviously more important. Still—"I suggest we return here to search for them after sleeping."

  “Agreed."

  The swimmers continue diving at them and making noise until Longpincer's servants show up to help carry the specimen.

  Rob had hoped the Ilmatarans would scatter in terror when he sent in the drones, but they barely even noticed them—even with the speaker volume maxed out. He couldn't tell if they were too dumb to pay attention, or smart enough to focus on one thing at a time.

  He gunned the impeller, closing in on the little group. Enough subtlety. He could see the lights on Henri's suit about fifty meters away, bobbing and wiggling as the Ilmatarans carried him. Rob slowed to a stop about ten meters from the Ilmatarans. The two big floodlights on the impeller showed them clearly.

  Enough subtlety and sneaking around. He turned on his suit hydrophone. “Hey!” He had his dive knife in his right hand in case of trouble.

  Broadtail is relieved to be rid of the strange beast. He is getting tired and hungry, and wants nothing more than to be back at Longpincer's house snacking on threadfin paste and heat-cured eggs.

  Then he hears a new noise. A whine, accompanied by the burble of turbulent water. Off to the left about three lengths there is some large swimmer. It gives a loud call. The captive creature struggles harder.

  Broadtail pings the new arrival. It is very odd indeed. It has a hard cylindrical body like a riftcruiser, but at the back it branches out into a bunch of jointed limbs covered with soft skin. The thing gives another cry and waves a couple of limbs.

  Broadtail moves toward it, trying to figure out what it is. Two creatures, maybe? And what is it doing? Is this a territorial challenge? He keeps his own pincers folded so as not to alarm it.

  “Be careful, Broadtail,” Longpincer calls.

  “Don't worry.” He doesn't approach any closer, but evidently he's already too close. The thing cries out one more time, then charges him. Broadtail doesn't want the other Bitterwater scholars to see him flee, so he splays his legs and braces himself, ready to grapple with this unknown monster.

  But just before it hits him, the thing veers off and disappears into the silent distance. Listening carefully lest it return, Broadtail backs toward the rest of the group and they resume their journey to Longpincer's house.

  Everyone agrees that this expedition is stranger than anything they remember. Longpincer seems pleased.

  Rob stopped his impeller and let the drones catch up. He couldn't think of anything else to do. The Ilmatarans wouldn't be scared off, and there was no way Rob could attack them. Whatever happened to Henri, Rob did not want to be the first human to harm an alien.

  The link with Henri was still open. The video showed him looking quite calm, almost serene.

  “Henri?” he said. “I tried everything I could think of. I can't get you out. There are too many of them."

  “It is all right, Robert,” said Henri, sounding surprisingly cheerful. “I do not think they will harm me. Otherwise why go to all the trouble to capture me alive? Listen: I think they have realized I am an intelligent being like themselves. This is our first contact with the Ilmatarans. I will be humanity's ambassador."

  “You think so?” For once Rob found himself hoping Henri was right.

  “I am certain of it. Keep the link open. The video will show history being made."

  Rob sent in one drone to act as a relay as the Ilmatarans carried Henri into a large rambling building near the Maury 3a vent. As he disappeared inside, Henri managed a grin for the camera.
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  Longpincer approaches the strange creature, laid out on the floor of his study. The others are all gathered around to help and watch. Broadtail has a fresh reel of cord and is making a record of the proceeding. Longpincer begins. “The hide is thick, but flexible, and is a nearly perfect sound absorber. The loudest of pings barely produce any image at all. There are four limbs. The forward pair appear to be for feeding, while the rear limbs apparently function as both walking legs and what one might call a double tail for swimming. Roundhead, do you know of any such creature recorded elsewhere?"

  “I certainly do not recall reading of such a thing. It seems absolutely unique."

  “Please note as much, Broadtail. My first incision is along the underside. Cutting the hide releases a great many bubbles. The hide peels away very easily; there is no connective tissue at all. I feel what seems to be another layer underneath. The creature's interior is remarkably warm."

  “The poor thing,” says Raggedclaw. “I do hate causing it pain."

  “As do we all, I'm sure,” says Longpincer. “I am cutting through the under-layer. It is extremely tough and fibrous. I hear more bubbles. The warmth is extraordinary—like pipe-water a cable or so from the vent."

  “How can it survive such heat?” asks Roundhead.

  “Can you taste any blood, Longpincer?” adds Sharpfrill.

  “No blood that I can taste. Some odd flavors in the water, but I judge that to be from the tissues and space between. I am peeling back the under-layer now. Amazing! Yet another layer beneath it. This one has a very different texture—fleshy rather than fibrous. It is very warm. I can feel a trembling sensation and spasmodic movements."

  “Does anyone remember hearing sounds like that before?” says Smoothshell. “It sounds like no creature I know of."

  “I recall that other thing making similar sounds,” says Broadtail.

  “I now cut through this layer. Ah—now we come to viscera. The blood tastes very odd. Come, everyone, and feel how hot this thing is. And feel this! Some kind of rigid structures within the flesh."

  “It is not moving,” says Roundhead.

  “Now let us examine the head. Someone help me pull off the shell here. Just pull. Good. Thank you, Raggedclaw. What a lot of bubbles! I wonder what this structure is?"

  The trip back was awful. Rob couldn't keep from replaying Henri's death in his mind. He got back to the station hours late, exhausted and half out of his mind. As a small mercy Rob didn't have to tell anyone what had happened—they could watch the video.

  There were consequences, of course. But because the next supply vehicle wasn't due for another twenty months, it all happened in slow motion. Rob knew he'd be going back to Earth, and guessed that he'd never make another interstellar trip again. He didn't go out on dives; instead he took over drone maintenance and general tech work from Sergei, and stayed inside the station.

  Nobody blamed him, at least not exactly. At the end of his debriefing, Dr. Sen did look at Rob over his little Gandhi glasses and say, “I think it was rather irresponsible of you both to go off like that. But I am sure you know that already."

  Sen also deleted the “Death to HK” list from the station's network, but someone must have saved a copy. The next day it was anonymously relayed to Rob's computer with a final method added: “Let a group of Ilmatarans catch him and slice him up."

  Rob didn't think it was funny at all.

  * * *

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