Now Schubert took out a large golden key, stuck it into the slot of yet a third covering, this one in the middle of the desk just below the numbers, and opened it. Under it was a large red button.
Schubert held his right index finger a few inches above the red button. For a long moment he stared at the unchanging digital numbers. The full range of emotions flitted across his chubby features: hate, anger, bitterness, sorrow; then softening to passivity; then climbing up the other way to expectation, pleasure, joy, and finally ecstasy.
Eyes wide, nostrils flaring, mouth wide in silent laughter, he brought his finger down on the button.
At that instant, the numbers on the digital sequencer began clicking down: “14:59... 14:58... 14:57...”
The steel shark cage hung suspended by cables just beneath the concrete ceiling, ten feet above the water of the docking channel. Mark lay barely breathing on the floor of the cage, his hands nearly black, his face darkening.
Seated with his back against the close-spaced iron bars, staring blankly, was Lieutenant Commander Roth.
Strong floods lit the cage, the lights burning Mark’s skin and baking his eyes. He moved slightly, raised an arm and dropped it. He was still for a moment. Then he rolled painfully onto his side, struggled to lift himself. He pushed himself up on one arm, reaching the other toward Roth.
His hand fell short by a yard. He managed to get both elbows under himself and started to drag his body forward, inch by inch, closer to Roth.
Finally he raised his right arm and reached. His fingers touched Roth’s wrist, and gradually encircled it. Like claws, Mark’s fingers gripped the bracelet and, with a final surge of energy, ripped it off Roth’s wrist.
Mark watched it drop to the floor of the cage.
Roth blinked. He turned his head slowly and looked down at Mark, bewildered, as if waking from a dream.
Footsteps sounded below. Schubert walked out of a corridor onto the walkway beside the channel. “Truly a pity,” he called up, “that you boys have to be treated in such a demeaningly appropriate manner. You arrived like men, you will leave like fish.”
Mark slid his head to the side of the cage and looked down, his eyes dull.
“Ah, yes, it’s a shame. Such potential. So much you could have done and enjoyed. So much you will miss. You’ll see nothing of the splendid new order of things. And to think you came that close,” he held his index fingers an inch apart, “to being a part of it all.”
Roth leaned against the bars and looked down at Schubert, blinking and moving his head from side to side as if to loosen the tension in his neck.
“Well, I’m sorry you fellows didn’t have the gumption to go the whole way with us. But,” he shrugged, “if you can’t stand the heat, you have to get out of my kitchen.”
His belly quivered from a chuckle. He stepped over to the wall and pushed a button. Two levers popped out of the wall. He pulled one of the levers down. Hydraulic pumping noises came from within the wall. The cables began to lower the cage.
Schubert watched somberly as the cage dropped slowly toward the water of the channel. When it was within two feet of it, he shrugged a final time, turned, and disappeared into the corridor.
The cage continued to creak downward. Mark reached his blackened hands to the bars and pulled himself over to them. The muscles in his arms and shoulders and chest tensed and rippled with strain as he tried to pull the bars apart. But he hadn’t even the strength of a normal man. He fell onto his back, gasping for breath. He turned his head weakly toward Roth. “Help... me...” he moaned pitifully. “Help me... the water... must have water.”
The cage touched the water. The floor dipped under the surface. Water poured between the bars, washing across the floor. Mark tried to roll over to get his face into it. He rose briefly on one elbow, then fell back, his head whacking against the floor.
He lay still. No more hoarse breathing sounds came from his blackened face.
Roth began to stir. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to Mark. He slid his arms under him and tried to roll him over to get bis face into the water. He was too weak. He fell to his side. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “... sorry.”
The cage sank deeper. The water covered Mark. It rose over Roth’s hips. Still Mark did not move. Roth’s eyes were closed. He leaned against the bars of the cage as the water climbed to his chest.
* * *
Schubert sat staring intensely at the digital countdown: “12:34... 12:33... 12:32...”
“Time fiies or drags,” he mused to himself, “whichever you don’t want it to do.”
He leaned back and put a finger alongside his nose. “One wonders, at a time like this, whether one has forgotten anything.” He wrinkled up his mouth and nose and eyes in thought. “Nope. Not a single item has escaped my attention. How nice to know one has been so thorough in such a monumental and demanding task!”
He leaned forward again to stare at the numbers: “11:58... 11:57...”
The cage was now almost completely under the water. Roth, paddling feebly, had risen with it. His head now bumped the top of the cage. The water was at his neck. There was no more room.
He coughed and choked as he tried to keep the water out of his mouth. He tilted his head far back and pressed his face against the top of the cage, to allow a few more moments of breath before the water covered him completely.
Suddenly Mark began to move on the floor. He turned slowly and raised his head. His metallic green eyes had renewed luster.
He saw Roth struggling above him. He darted to the top of the cage and clamped Roth firmly in his arms to stop his thrashing, then put his mouth dose to Roth’s ear. “Listen... Breathe.”
Roth continued to struggle, gasping wetly as water trickled into his mouth and nose.
“Breathe... Trust me... Breathe.”
Roth’s eyes were wild. He took some quick, shallow breaths.
“Deeply... You must... breathe deeply!”
Roth closed his eyes and drew in one last long breath.
With a sudden powerful lurch, Mark jerked him under the water to the bottom of the cage. Planting his feet firmly on the floor and keeping Roth in front of him, Mark reached around and took the bars in his hands and wrenched them apart, twisting them into an opening just large enough.
He quickly backed through the opening, pulling Roth with him. Clear of the cage, Mark shot for the surface. He broke water and yanked Roth’s head clear. Roth gasped and coughed.
Holding Roth in one arm, Mark swung to the side of the channel, hoisted himself up on the concrete walkway, and pulled Roth up after him.
Water poured off their white suits. Mark’s skin was lightening.
Roth lay flat on his back, his chest heaving. Mark knelt beside him. He glanced quickly around, then fixed his gaze on Roth. He watched him carefully, sensing the status of his recovery, waiting patiently while Roth pulled mouthfuls of air back into his starving lungs.
Schubert left his master control, walked briskly down the corridor and entered the big room where minutes before so many scientists had been hard at work. Now the room was empty, except for the glowing desk monitors and the huge map which hung, brightly lit, in the center of the room.
The room was eerily quiet. Red lights flashed along the walls. Sequencers counted silently down: “10:54... 10:53...”
Schubert turned to the map and stared up at the facsimiles of oceans and the hundreds of missile ships of several nations. The sequencer in the map clicked down: “10:48... 10:47...”
He nodded with satisfaction.
“The report on Mark Harris, Mr. Schubert.” Schubert spun to see George, the supervisor, standing in the doorway holding a sheaf of papers.
He waved to George impatiently. “Come on, come on, let’s have it. A bit late. What took you so long?”
“Chemical anomalies required rescreening.”
“Yes, yes, always something that has to be done over. Gimme it.” He snatched the papers from Geo
rge’s hands. “And our friend’s special adornment?”
“Adornment?”
“The special bracelet, man, don’t be such a dimwit. Must I speak to you like a child?”
“Yes, the bracelet.” George reached into his pocket and took out the bracelet. It was thicker than the one he wore, and not of a single, solid color, but striped green, red, and black.
Schubert grabbed it and held it up to the light, smiled pleasantly, and nodded. “Fine. Excellent. By the way, George...”
George looked at him dully.
“We’re going to be celebrating very shortly.” He lowered his voice confidentially, leaning toward the supervisor. “George, there’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight.”
George gazed ahead stonily.
“All right, all right,” Schubert dropped his smile and fluttered his hand, “that’s it. You’re dismissed.”
George turned and plodded out.
“Well now,” Schubert sat down in a swivel chair and planted his feet up on a desk, “let’s see what we have here.” He fingered the special bracelet in one hand while he thumbed through the pages of the report with the other.
“Hmm... Ahal... Hmm.” His face mirrored the discoveries the pages presented. Finally he turned over the last page of the report, and tossed it on the desk and clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
“Hmm. Afraid of something like that. Should have thought of it myself.”
Abruptly he sat up, reached to press a button, then leaned toward a microphone on the desk.
“Guards. This is Mr. Schubert. Check the shark cage immediately for two bodies. If you don’t find them there, that may meara they’re still alive. Scour every water chamber and tunnel in the habitat. You are looking for the gentlemen we know as Roth and Harris. If they are alive, we may have a waterbreathing man with us. So treat him with care, understand? The one named Harris, I want him alive!”
He leaned back and looked at the bracelet. “Hmm. Useful after all...”
There were splashes in several water tunnels as Schubert’s guards, wearing white scuba gear with white air tanks on their backs and white helmets with bright spotlights strapped on them, dove in for the search. Rubber fins fluttering rapidly, they moved off down the tunnels, turning their heads slowly right and left to cast their beams against the walls.
* * *
Mark slipped out of his clean-room suit. He helped Roth sit up and ripped the top part of his suit off him.
Then he squatted beside Roth, who was sagging with exhaustion, his legs dangling out over the water.
“Listen to me...” Mark put a hand on his shoulder. “Get the others... whoever you can... Take the bands from their wrists... lead them to the submarine.”
Roth shook his head wearily.
“You must... Your friend Hendricks... others... You must find them... get them to the submarine.” He shook Roth’s shoulder.
“No good,” Roth mumbled.
“Yes...”
“The sea lock,” he panted between his words, “the door to the sea. Closed.”
“I will open it.”
“How can you...”
“I can open it... Trust me.”
Roth let his head sag forward. “But Schubert—his signal beam will set off the missiles.” He sucked for breath.
He looked up at the sound of a slight splash, and saw Mark disappear into the water.
“Gotta find the others,” he muttered as he struggled to his feet. “Gotta find them...” He moved off unsteadily down the corridor, supporting himself against the wall with one hand.
Elizabeth took the phone that Commander Johnson handed her. She took a deep breath as she put it to her mouth. “Yes sir.”
“You’ve found nothing,” came the admiral’s resigned voice.
“No sir. Nothing. I’m sorry, Admiral...”
“No need to tell me that, Dr. Merrill. I know. We all are. Are you ready to abandon the search then?”
“Yes... yes... we are.”
“I’m not ordering you to.”
“I understand.”
“As far as I’m concerned, this is still your mission. If you wish to continue the probes, I will support you.”
“Thank. you, sir. But I guess,” tears slid down her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, “I guess there’s no sense in continuing. I’ve already so informed Commander Johnson.
“It’s a tragedy, Doctor, for all of us.”
“Yes, it’s a great loss. Mark was...”
“Not just Mark Harris or the Sea Quest. I understand that Commander Roth was a good friend of yours.”
“Yes.”
“If I didn’t tell you before, I’m terribly sorry you’ve lost your friend.”
“Thank you. That’s all then?”
“Yes. I’ll see you back here. Stay tough.”
“I’m okay.”
Admiral Pierce hung up the phone quietly, then smashed a fist into the side of the desk.
“Anything I can do, sir?”
“No, Ainsley, thank you. You’ve shaped up well, supported me all you can. There’s nothing you can do.”
“I guess I’m learning a little bit about command, sir.”
“Yeah.” The admirai slumped in his chair and stared out the, window. “But it’s situations like this you can’t really prepare for. You don’t know how you’re gonna handle yourself. You don’t know until you’re in the middle of it. Then you learn how good a commander you are.”
“If I may say, sir, you’ve done everything possible, really stuck by your people in the field.”
“Yeah. For all the good it did. Everybody did everything they could. Trouble is, we just don’t know enough about the bottom of the ocean.”
Roth moved cautiously along the tunnel, gradually recovering his strength and bearings. He stopped abruptly when he heard the sound of running feet coming from a side tunnel off to the left.
He looked around frantically for a place to hide. There was none, not even the smallest niche in the smooth concrete walls.
He plastered himself against the wall, waiting. Two guards emerged from the side tunnel and fortunately turned the other way and continued running.
He waited a moment, then turned down the tunnel from which they had come.
He saw an open door and edged up to it, peeking around the jamb. The small room was empty. On one wall was a digital sequencer ticking down: “10:26... 10:25...”
He slipped past the door and continued on, quickening his pace.
Ten minutes, he thought, ten minutes left in a lifetime.
Mark swam slowly through the dimly lit water tunnel, peering ahead, careful to make no sound or disturb the water more than necessary. His undulating movements allowed him to glide without causing a ripple on the surface.
Suddenly he froze, sensing something. He dove for the bottom and flattened himself against it like a flounder.
Three guards in scuba gear appeared out of the distance ahead of and above him, their lights arcing back and forth from one side to the other. They swam swiftly over him and disappeared behind.
Mark rose and resumed gliding forward.
What he could not know was that the guards that had just swum past had completed their assigned circuit twenty yards further on, and had turned and were retracing their path.
Mark passed the entrance to a side channel on his left and continued forward several yards, until he glimpsed two more light beams approaching him from in front.
He turned and swam back toward the entrance to the side tunnel he had just passed.
But now the first set of guards was already at that entrance. He was caught between Schubert’s advancing hunters.
They spotted him, closed on him, lunged for him—two from one side, three from the other.
Mark dove for the bottom, trying to slip under them. Suddenly a net dropped over him. He spun and kicked up one side of it, slipping under the edge. The guards swi
rled the net, trying to snare him again. He was slippery as an eel, darting around faster than the guards could follow him.
Shooting up suddenly, he grabbed the net and hurled it over their heads, snapped it tight, banging their heads together. Then he sped off down the side channel, flashing under the floodlights that pierced the water.
Roth found the Russian, British, and American scientists seated together in a small room, staring at the sequencer on the wall: “8:15... 8:14...”
He quickly stripped off their bracelets. “Where’s Commander Hendricksr he whispered.
They gazed at him, blinking.
“Hendricks! Where is her
They all shook their heads.
“Come on!”
He herded them out into the hallway and shoved them in front of him, moving in the general direction of the submarine dock. They stumbled often. He prodded them more, while mindful of the fact that they were moving as fast as they could, trying to refocus their minds after having the bracelets removed.
Two guards appeared suddenly from a junction of corridors just ahead. The three scientists combined to latch onto one guard. Roth leaped at the other and felled him with a quick karate chop to the side of the neck. Then he similarly dispatched the second one.
The action seemed to speed the scientists’ reorientation, and now they moved more quickly toward the sea-lock tunnel.
Mark slipped out of the water, sprang to his feet, and dashed soundlessly on bare feet toward the closed doors of the huge control room.
As he neared them, the doors slid open.
He moved cautiously through them into the cavemous room. He prowled along the banks of panels and control units. They buzzed and hummed and pulsed
with signals. Above them on the various sequencers
the numbers silently tolled down: “8:10... 8:09..”
He leaned over the control units and ran his hands along the desks, searching for crucial buttons or levers.
“Ah, Mark Harrisl”
Mark swung around to see Schubert step from behind the huge map of the oceans.
Man From Atlantis Page 15