Not that the humanx could do anything about it even if they were to detect the movements. The AAnn rights were unassailable where practically everything was concerned. But it was better not to have nosy bureaucrats poking around until many answers had been obtained. So the only humanx within detector range were a few improperly equipped hunters and fishers.
Gently, Engineering lowered the massive container to the bottom of the shaft. A basso grinding from, the big room heralded touchdown. Relays snapped and sliding panels formed a new, permanent roof to the great cage. Outside, automatic work-tugs set about the task of dismantling the camouflaged shaft. Parquit did not permit himself to relax until all four panels of the structure and the accompanying artificial reef had been removed and stored. An unbroken sea flowed over the now-sealed subterranean structure. He smoothed his tail absently.
“Over and done and buried. So. Now the besotten freefliers may flit overhead to their heart’s content!”
“The structure, then, is completely invisible from the air?” asked Carmot.
“Like the rest of our undersea facilities, the containment area appears as normal seabottom when viewed from a height, complete with Pecces and an artificial piscean breeding ground.” The Commander leaned over the railing of the upper observation ramp and yelled into the big room. “Communications!”
From within a maze of screens and dials a slim technic looked up alertly.
“Radar and audor report all negative, Commander.”
“Good!” He turned back to the two scientists. “It only remains to release the creature from its life-support container. Then, Arris, you and your eager subordinates may proceed with the first of your experiments.” He turned to Carmot and began easily. “As a military man, I am of course particularly interested to see for myself proof of your claims as to the thing’s ability to resist powerful laser and other heat . . . .”
Within the shell the Vom rested quietly. It allowed its perceptions to roam freely through the thick metal and plastine and ferroconcrete walls. Still unbearably weak, it could nonetheless differentiate between the atmosphere within its container and that outside a yet larger cell. There the atmosphere became liquid. It was pleasingly high in oxygen content and well-mixed with hydrogen. A short distance above this area the atmosphere turned gaseous once again. An ocean or sea, then.
The Vom detected a host of small intelligences performing typical heat-generating tasks in the liquid around it. Others lay dormant and unmoving. Extending further, it made a tremendous discovery. This liquid atmosphere was violently alive with organisms! The sheer bulk staggered the Vom. It had been so long since life-force had been present nearby in any quantity that the Vom was stunned by the sheer fertility. True, the intelligence of all was low, low, carrying a proportionately smaller amount of life-energy. The volume, however, would come near to making up for that. There was no question as to pure numbers.
For one moment the Vom bravely extended its perceptions to the utmost. At the furthest limit of its terribly fatigued senses was at least one, possibly two large concentrations of high-quality life-force.
The Vom debated. It was still difficult to think clearly. How much longer could it wait before a real feeding was necessary to insure expansion? In order to energize the higher functions, it was life-energy and not bulk protein that was needed. Especially intelligent life-energy.
A small number of AAnn technicians floated in little work-cars above the metal ellipsoid, equipped with strip saws. They positioned themselves preparatory to cutting the shell from the creature. From there it was presumed the being would move about on its own to relax in the cell. There was no reason to think it would behave otherwise.
The Vom considered.
It was hungry now.
Tortured metal screamed. The ellipsoid tore like paper in half a dozen, two dozen places. Long pseudopods black as the Pit extruded from the cracks and snatched the scooter-mounted techs like a frog catching flies. A few barely had enough time to scream. Metal and nye alike were absorbed into that black ichor. The Vom flowed out rapidly in all directions, examining every section of the vault.
Two biologists who had been taking notes nearby the single massive door turned and ran for their souls. They barely beat that flowing black hell. It slammed up against the water-tight barrier like a wave of ink seconds after they’d slipped through to safety. Sensing intelligent construct, the Vom began to analyze the barrier separating it from its food. A moderately complex duralloy construct, the metals yielded to rapid identification. Their tolerances were judged, gauged. A small section of the Vom began to produce heat, focused it on the door.
The duralloy turned red-hot, then white-hot. It began to flow like soapy water.
Parquit reacted first. The mental blast that had been the Vom’s first free-emoting thought—that of a cosmic hunger—had momentarily paralyzed everyone. “Close all doors in that tubeway access! Also all doors in sections six, seven and nine!”
Suddenly the room was a frenzy of activity. Parquit’s commands galvanized the technicians into action.
The first doorway melted through, giving access to the first section of tubeway. The ravenous intelligence consumed the envelopes and life-energy of two more nye. The two scientists had narrowly made the tube before the first door slammed shut behind them. They hadn’t made the second ahead of Parquit’s orders. The life energy the Vom received, however, was less than it might have been, since the minute the monster had breached the first door and flowed for them, one biologist shot his companion and then turned the little needle-ray on himself. They perished differently from the scooter-techs in that they didn’t have time to scream.
Parquit strode up and down the railing, bawling orders at every section.
“Power nexus!” he roared.
Engineer-Physicist Pyorn looked up helplessly from his control desk. “Commander! Consider, the final linkage has never been tested! The possible effects remain theoretical at this point and—”
Parquit looked hard at the Engineer. “To the Dead Star with your linkages, nye! A good time to test them, vya-nar? And if your effects prove theoretical, our deaths will not. Full power! And hold!”
“Exalted commands,” Pyorn muttered faintly. He broke back two plated switches, one yellow, the other brown. Pressing both in sequence, he uttered a quiet prayer to the dust demons to hold the newly installed systematization together.
The Vom recoiled in terrible pain. The entire vault, excepting a large section of the center flooring, had suddenly and unexpectedly come alive with several million volts. The access tunnel was similarly charged. In its weakened condition, the powerful overload was more than its unprepared cells could distribute. It shrank back on itself towards the one section of the vault that was uncharged. All movement was agony. Misjudged, misjudgment! It cried. One by one centers shut down to avoid being burned out forever. Those which tried to distribute the charge had some success before failing. Those on the organic periphery went first.
Unfortunately, very unfortunately, it did not quite die.
“Full off, back down slowly,” Parquit ordered after several minutes had elapsed. The Vom had long since ceased all movement of any kind, but the Commander was not about to be undercautious. Obediently, Pyorn closed down the system. The Engineer examined dials and meters intently.
“All sections holding Commander.” There was a hint of pride in the voice, which Parquit, under the circumstances, did not reprimand.
“Compliments,” he said curtly. To the two scientists, “Follow me, please, sanderings.” They descended to the floor of the great control center. Parquit singled out an elderly AAnn seated alone amid thousands of tiny glass cages with captive dials.
“Well, Amostom, is it ruled a final dueling?”
“I cannot say yet, Commander. According to life-support monitor . . .” he gestured at the meters and such, “ . . . the thing still lives.”
“Impossible,” Arris said quietly.
“Strange w
ords to come from a xenobiologist,” replied the Commander.
“Exalted, there isn’t a living creature that can take half the voltage that was poured into that vault for more than a few milliseconds. Even then, the aquatic being in question has all its higher neurological functions crisped. The thing must at least be paralyzed beyond possibility of recovery, a point where ‘death’ becomes an exercise in convenient semantics.”
“Well,” Parquit said grimly, “you may be right, there. If not, your scheme of tolerance will be forced to revise itself to include a variable.” He turned to stare at the monitors which relayed images from the vault.
“If it is still alive, it shows no sign of it. All visible motion has halted.”
“I beg to question, Commander, but there is no ‘if’ involved,” interrupted Amostom from his seat. The elderly nye made a sweeping motion with hands and tail. “The readings are plain for those who have the openness to read them. The thing lives. Weakened, granted, but it lives.”
“How ‘weakened’?” asked Parquit.
Amostom performed the AAnn shrug-equivalent. “By any reasonable standards, I should guess near to death. Indeed, it may, as the good Arris observes, never recover. But then, little of it observes normal or reasonable standards. By its own—who knows?”
The Commander grunted and turned back to the largest tridee monitor. It remained focused on the quiescent black mass.
“Well, we shall have to find out. A good external stimulus ought to be the best way. And we have one that has proven itself effective.” He gestured to Carmot and Arris to follow.
“Your pardon, Commander,” said the Observer-First, “but where are we going?”
Parquit looked back over a mailed shoulder. “Inside the vault, of course. What kind of stimuli did you think I had in mind?”
Carmot had not moved. “I hardly think that is wise, Commander.”
“Perhaps. But useful, certainly.” Parquit looked the small scientist over carefully. “Is it possible the nye have a coward in their midst?”
Carmot flushed. “A heightened instinct for preservation in the face of death is not cowardice.”
“Very facile. I will not force you.”
“Then of course I must come,” said Carmot.
The clumsy armored suits held their speed to a crawl. Designed for use in the weightless vacuum of space, they were terribly awkward on land. In ordering the use of the bulky suits, Parquit privately doubted that they would afford much in the way of protection should the creature decide to go on another rampage. If it was capable of further rampaging, he reminded himself. Amostom’s analysis left an uncomfortably large amount of room for disarming speculation.
Psychologically, however, the armor was valuable for such as the Observer-First. For a race of reptiles equipped with their own body armor by nature, armor of all types exerted an almost religious appeal.
Within the vault, the restored lighting (cut out when the emergency power was cut on) was sharp. Colors, shadows, even the walls showed grayish in the even lighting. The jagged debris of the creature’s interspace ellipsoid lay strewn about the room, twisted and torn like so much parchment.
The enigma in vivo rested in the center of the room. A huge, silent mountain of ebony opalescence and awesome power. It represented a universe of unanswered questions.
Together with a heavily armed escort, which was present primarily for psychological effect, a small group of volunteer scientists accompanied the three.
A single soldier preceded the small party. He walked slowly up to the unmoving hulk. A few nye held their breath. The soldier walked slowly around the base of the creature, tapping it at various points with the stock of his powerifle. After several minutes of this he flicked his tail at the waiting party.
A low sussuration, part relief and part burgeoning curiosity, began to emanate from the group of scientists as they spread through the vault. The atmosphere seemed to grow ten degrees warmer. Two were already deep in a heated discussion by the base of the melted watertight door.
Others were soon plying about the edge of the monster. Still others were pouring over the shredded remnants of the transportation ellipsoid that lay scattered about the vault.
Parquit still found it difficult to think of the mountain-quiet mass as alive in any sense of the word. Its one brief display of insensate violence and explosive motion had taken on the aspect of a bad dream, was receding into memory.
He passed one elderly observer calmly dictating notes into his belt recorder. The oldster was examining a fused lump of metal which lay close to the base of the creature. It was easy enough to identify—a partially digested arm and part of a shoulder protruded from the metal. The lump was the remains of one of the little inspection-repair scooters that had carried the nye who were to release the creature from its metal shell—and the remains of the scooter operator.
The Commander spotted Arris studying the point where the black hill touched the floor, He strolled over and the xenobiologist waved in greeting.
“Initial deductions?” Parquit asked smoothly.
“I am still trying to adjust to the fact that this is indeed a living thing and not a mountain of inorganic sludge, Commander.” The scientist tapped the black substance with a clawed foot. “I find it difficult to relate to something so enormous on any kind of personal level.”
“A feeling we all share. Still, I could do with some first impressions.”
“Well, if Amostom’s instruments are correct, then we can assume the thing capable of unknown actions at any time. Yet I would tend to believe we may have pulled its spines. Its intelligence remains an unknown—the most important one, I should think.”
“You believe it is of a high enough order to learn from its experience, then?”
“Its present lack of action might be read as such. But I hesitate to ascribe intelligence to an action which may be dictated solely by bodily demands and be thereby entirely involuntary. I don’t think in any case that it will risk another encounter with Pyorn’s electric charges. Not when it has been so obviously damaged by the first.” The xenobiologist scratched his leathery hide with one claw. “With your permission, Commander, I’d like to be about our schedule of experimentation. Suitable precautions will be observed.”
“I should expect so. Yes, certainly. Begin at once.” Parquit caught sight of Carmot standing off to one side and walked over. The Observer was careful to avoid contact with the monster.
“You’ve been very quiet, Observer. What do you observe?”
Carmot turned a drawn face to the Commander. “I observe that an appalling display of force resulting in destruction and fatalities is insufficient to install suspicion in the nye. We all underestimate this unspeakable mass of alien obscenity.”
He returned his gaze to the thing in question. “The display of electronic destruction put on by our engineers was quite impressive. It is possible that we may have exhausted the thing’s resources that its moment of terror was a last desperate attempt to avoid imprisonment and perhaps dissection.” He looked at Parquit evenly. “But I would not bet a southing on it.”
Carmot’s pessimism did not overly bother Parquit. Rather, it was the Observer’s unflattering intimations of ignorance on the part of the AAnn. Not fitting for one in the service of the Emperor.
“You would have us attempt to destroy it now, after the nye it has cost?” Parquit said sharply.
“Yes!” the Observer replied, with more violence than the Commander had ever seen him express. “Now, immediately! Before it regains the strength it showed. And for the very reason you yourself just said!”
Parquit was taken aback. “I said?”
“Truly! ‘Attempt to destroy it,’ you said. You cannot even conceal your own uncertainties, Commander.”
“That may be,” replied Parquit quietly. “But it is also for that very reason that we must continue to study it. Its ability to survive extraordinary assaults demands that we try to learn how this is accomplished.
It promises us secrets to be learned nowhere else. I will not surrender these prospects to insubstantialities and personal fears.”
Carmot sighed. “Let us hope they remain only that.” The diminutive Observer turned back to his inspection of the dull hulk. Instinct betrays one, he thought perversely as he wildly wondered what the thing’s flesh would taste like. The oddest thoughts occurred to one at the oddest times.
His nursery was light-years and real years away. He wished he were in it.
The Vom rested quietly. It was aware of the small army of intelligences poking and prodding at it. It was aware of instruments sending questing energies throughout its structure and it did not resist, although certain information was allowed to be picked up subtly changed, carefully mottled. It did not even resist when one cluster of figures set about removing a small section of physical self, an unforgivable insult. In time past the very thought would have meant slow death for the thinker. Now, the Vom did not react. It could do penance.
The mistake it had just made required a good deal of it.
Very well, it would continue to present an aspect of docility that bordered on death. Also, it had much thinking to do.
So, and so. It had underjudged its captors. It reminded itself that under certain conditions a large number of small intelligences could act as efficiently as a single great one. Demonstrably, they could sometimes surpass it. It had relied too much on its unmatched body to carry the attack through. In forgetting to reason it had forgotten everything. It had been fortunate, yes, fortunate to have survived. After retaining life for millennia of near-starvation, it had nearly invited extinction by a single rash act.
It perceived that a group of the small intelligences had been gathering large groups of lower beings to one side, outside its first retainer. The Vom could not read minds now, but it was an astute interpreter of emotions and actions. It detected the long tubes leading into the vault from outside and the devices whose function would be to remove much of the tame water. So its captors were going to supply it with organics. It contented itself and calculated the time needed to regain its former plateau—the various sections reported: surprisingly little. In addition to many other things, the Vom had forgotten its own recuperative powers.
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