Cachalot by Foster Alan Dean

Author:Foster, Alan Dean [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Adventure, Mystery
ISBN: 9780345280664
Amazon: B000BP3MUO
Goodreads: 939564
Publisher: Del Rey
Published: 1980-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

XI

For several long, horrifying moments she was utterly alone, suspended in black limbo save for the penetrating beam of her hand light.

Then she made out other swimming, yellow forms and their individual hand beams.

“What was that?” she inquired of everyone in general and no one in particular via her mask broadcast unit. “What happened?”

“Where did they go?” Rachael asked, sounding concerned.

“Did we frighten them?” Merced appeared on her right. The five figures came together.

“Dawn, I thought you said that there are no large predators in here.” Predators did seem a likely explanation for the cephalopods’ reaction. They would douse their lights and scatter for shelter.

“I don’t think there are, Cora.” The girl sounded curious, not defensive, which was why Cora was inclined to believe her.

They were interrupted by a flash of dull light from overhead. Cora wasn’t the only one who experienced an instant of panic before the explanation reached them in the form of a low rumble of thunder, muted by the water.

“Lightning,” she muttered. “Could that scare them?”

“It’s possible,” Dawn agreed. “I’m not enough of a specialist to be able to say.”

“Possible perhaps.” Cora recognized Merced’s thoughtful tone. “But why should other light startle them that way, when they generate such an immense display themselves? Maybe that particular wavelength? …”

As she listened, Cora was distracted by a peculiar tickling inside her head. It was almost familiar. She had the strangest sensation—Then she felt herself being moved forcefully to one side.

But no hand had touched her, not even Sam’s massive ones. As enormous volume of water had been displaced somewhere nearby. Yet Dawn continued to insist on the absence of large predators. Maybe the girl was no specialist, but Cora granted her the benefit of local experience, which she knew was often worth much more than theoretical studies.

But there was something. She sensed it, felt it through her suit. It had moved a mountain of ocean and frightened the milling cephalopods into instant oblivion.

Another flash from above momentarily lit the trans-lucent water, a second dim rumble echoing forever behind. She briefly saw her companions outlined in light blue. Still no sign of anything else. Only gleaming hexalates and nothing more. Whatever had terrified the cephalopods had done the same to all other local motile life.

In the center of Vai’oire was a tall, thin building within which was a dense assemblage of the most complex machinery in the town.

Two men monitored the instruments. They were conscientious and attentive to their tasks. One was presently visiting with a member of the opposite sex in a corridor just off the main chamber. His companion remained behind, until he decided that it was vital he attend momentarily to certain critical bodily demands.

No one saw the dial on one panel swing from one end to the other. No one saw a fluorescent grid suddenly swarm with electronic pollen. The aural alarms went off seconds later. Alert functions were beyond the immediate reach of the busily occupied man in the corridor. Ignoring pants and awkwardness, his partner in the bathroom rushed for the general alarm.

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