Secrets of the Deep

by Gordon R. Dickson

  Mr. Lillibulero was waiting for them.

  “Y’saw him?” were his first words.

  “He’s gone,” said Robby, rather breathlessly, for Balthasar had been moving fast, and he had had to work to hang on against the pressure of the water. “But he was bleeding.We’ve got to get out of the water. There’ll be sharks around.”

  “The rocks?” said Mr. Lillibulero. He was referring to Seal Rocks, a couple of hundred yards off across the shoals. They were called Seal Rocks, not because there were any seals around them, but because Robby thought they looked like the Seal Rocks at San Francisco, where, as everyone knows, there actually are seals.

  “Yes,” said Robby. “You’d better take one of Balthasar’s reins. Hurry!”

  Mr. Lillibulero caught hold, and in a very few minutes they found themselves towed across the shoals and climbing out of the sea on to the smooth water-polished rocks, out of sight of the station.

  “Ah,” said Mr. Lillibulero with satisfaction, as he sat down. “A wee bit of sun’ll do us no harm.”

  Robby found himself feeling the same way.

  Human beings lose the natural heat of their bodies faster in water than in air, and swimming underwater takes quite a bit of work in spite of the fact that it looks so easy in pictures.All this means that they get cold and tired and hungry. Robby and Mr. Lillibulero were just that. But before they let them-selves rest, there were things the little man wanted to know.

  “Y’have something to tell me,” Mr. Lillibulero said, looking shrewdly at Robby.

  “Well...” Robby was embarrassed at remembering how he had almost swum right down the killer’s throat. Then, as usual, he began to feel annoyed with Mr. Lillibulero. “Well,”said Robby again, “I—I saw the killer. He was fighting a—I don’t know what it was. A funny sort of big animal with big claws, or hands.”

  “Och, aye?” said Mr. Lillibulero, his gimlet eyes hard on Robby.

  “Yes, and d’you know what?” went on Robby eagerly,forgetting about being angry as he remembered how strange the peculiar creature had been. “I’ve seen the kind of tracks it made before. I saw some yesterday, close to the station.”

  “And y’don’t know what it is?”

  “It had a head like a catfish,” said Robby. “And it was bigger than Balthasar. And—and it drove off the killer!”

  “What’s that?” said Mr. Lillibulero, pouncing on Robby’s words with the quickness of a killer, himself.

  “It’s true!” said Robby. “I saw it. The killer came inclose and this thing hit the killer twice—like a prize fighter. And the killer began bleeding from the mouth, and swam away.”

  “Ah, now,” said Mr. Lillibulero, veiling his eyes with a thoughtful look. “Is that so?” He picked up a chip of rock that was lying nearby and scratched on the softer rock behind him. As Robby stared, a finely sketched outline of the strange creature took shape on the rock. “Was this what y’saw?”

  “That’s it!” cried Robby. “How do you know what it looks like?”

  “Ah, now . . .” said Mr. Lillibulero and sat for a moment, thinking. Then he turned sharply on Robby. “Can y’keep a secret?”

  “Of course I can!” said Robby.

  “P’raps,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “However, there’s little choice for it. What I’m about to tell y’is a governmental secret, and y’must hold it to y’rself.”

  “I will,” said Robby. “Didn’t I say I would?”

  “Y’did not,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “Not until this moment. What y’said was that y’could keep secrets, not that y’would keep this parteecular one. However, since y’have promised, ’tis this. Y’r father was not the only man to be working on the creatures taken from the ice caves on Mars.”

  “Well, he was the only man who was doing experimental research—” began Robby, and broke off as he felt the emerald glare of Mr. Lillibulero’s eyes like sword blades thrust him through and through. There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “As I was about t’be saying,” went on Mr. Lillibulero, “y’r father was not the only man who was doing experimental research wi’ Martians. A certain well-known marine biologist by the name of Jacob Von Hoffer—”

  “That’s my grandfather... go on, go on,” said Robby, hurriedly, as Mr. Lillibulero’s eyes blazed again.

  “Jacob Von Hoffer was engaged in parteecular research wi’certain larger creatures which have been recently discovered—and no word of it supposed to be published—in caves below those which had been previously explored. And the interesting bit about these larger creatures is that the caves in which they live are both bigger and deeper than the caves above. As a result, they are kept warm from some interior volcanic heat of the planet, and they are not caves of ice, as are the caves above, wi’the creatures frozen in them for centuries and aeons,but caves of water.” Mr. Lillibulero stopped and looked at Robby as if to say, now you may speak.

  “What’re . . .” began Robby, and hesitated.

  “No,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “Not whatter—water."

  “I know,” said Robby. “I mean, I know you said water. What I meant was, what’re—I mean what are they?”

  “They, the larger Martian creatures of the lower caves,”said Mr. Lillibulero solemnly, as if handing down a decision of law, “are of various sizes, and types. On the average, they are bigger, and further evolved than the ones in the ice caves.In short, they are the higher, more intelligent and complicated sort of creatures which would not have been able to survive if frozen in ice, the way simpler animals can.”

  “Oh,” said Robby.

  “Somehow,” went on Mr. Lillibulero, “word of what y’r grandfather was doing appears to have leaked out. Three days ago, the largest of the Martians at y’r grandfather’s institute was stolen away, and it was.clearly a matter of abduction by Vandals.”

  Robby stared.

  “But why would Vandals want a Martian?” he said. “Vandals don’t like live things from other worlds, you said. They say they all ought to be destroyed.”

  “Ah. Vandals!” said Mr. Lillibulero, and his eyes snapped abruptly. They grew green and hard as fine emeralds. Robby blinked at the change in the little man’s face, and an unexpected trickle of fear ran slowly down his spine. He would never have suspected that Mr. Lillibulero could look so dangerous. “There’s all kinds of Vandals, laddie.”

  “Dad says they’re all alike. People who just wouldn’t grow up in some way.”

  “Aye, he’s right enough,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “But the way they are takes different forms. There’s no great organization of them, y’see. They’re just a lot of loose gangs, some of them against one thing, and some wanting to smash some-thing else. It’s just when some of the gangs start getting together, that decent folk have to look out. And it happens that’s just what’s come about in the matter of the Martians.”“What do you mean?” asked Robby.

  “I mean,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “that there’s one kind of Vandal worse than all the rest, and that’s the kind that wants power. For fifty years now we’ve had no wars in the world.But there are men among the Vandals who’d like to bring war back because that way they could become powerful and important. Now if this sort of Vandal could get people all worked up and arguing about the Martians, perhaps some fighting would start.”

  “But they don’t really mean to hurt people, do they?” said Robby. “And that ”

  “And that excuses them, y’would say?” Mr. Lillibulero’s voice was no longer friendly. “If someone you loved drowned in the station because Vandals blew it up, would you say it was no blame of theirs because they were only out to destroy the Martians and didn’t mean to hurt the people who were there, too?”

  Robby, who had been just on the edge of continuing the argument, closed his mouth. He had not thought of the matter that way. He stared out to sea, seeing in his mind’s eye the station collapsing as it was blown up, and the tons of water rushing in on his father, and his mother, and himself.

  When he looked ba
ck at Mr. Lillibulero, he was surprised to see that the man’s eyes had clouded over.

  “Och, aye!” said Mr. Lillibulero, gruffly. “The Vandals have caused enough sadness and loneliness in the world to young lads without my talking about more tragedy. But to get back to more important matters. The information I’m about t’give you is top-secret, but it may be it’ll help you to know it for your own protection if the Vandals get their hands on you,as they well might, with us on this rock, and them in the station.

  “The beast y’saw drive off the killer whale was one of y’r grandfather’s Martians.”

  Robby stared.

  “It was!” he said.

  “Aye.”

  “But it was so big!”

  “ ’Tis the biggest Martian creature yet discovered,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “There’re only two in captivity, both in y’r grandfather’s possession. Unfortunately, the Vandals that stole the one you saw also hurt the other one they left behind.That’s why y’r father had to hurry off the way he did. He’ll be trying now to help y’r grandfather and y’r mother save the life of the one that’s left. They call the creatures,” added Mr. Lillibulero, “sea badgers.”

  “Sea badgers?” said Robby.

  “Aye. Y’see, they’re not the terrible monsters the Vandals would like to believe, for all their size. In fact, they’re vegetarian, and live on the plants that grow in the Martian sea caves. Their mouths are built for grinding up the plants they find, by the bushel, and those big arms and hands are for digging from one underground sea cave to the other, in search of food. That’s why they call them sea badgers—because the badger, you know, is a famous digger.”

  “Moles are very good at it, too,” said Robby.

  “And clams,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “However, we have no earthly digging creature the size or strength of the Martian sea badger. He can literally burrow through rock. Which,”went on Mr. Lillibulero, “brings me back to the rest of the information I was about to disclose.”

  “What?” asked Robby.

  “Down at the Intelligence Bureau we’ve known what the plan of one group of Vandals has been for some time. We learned of it shortly after it came to our attention that news of the Martian sea badgers had leaked out. The leader of this parteecular group—they call him the Captain—planned to capture a killer whale, turn it loose at some crowded beach, and later blame the havoc it caused on one of the sea badgers, escaped and loose upon the world.”

  “That was where the killer whale came from!” said Robby.“They must have been towing it in the pod—and the sea badger was locked in the cargo section of the submersible!”

  “Aye. From which he dug himself out, obviously,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “and either attacked the killer whale in the pod, or was attacked by him.”

  "I think he was attacked,” said Robby. “The killer whale was doing all the attacking in the fight I saw.”

  “Well, whichever way it was,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “they all ended up here—for what reason I’m not quite sure. It maybe they were running short of Martian vegetation to feed the sea badger. Maybe it was ill, and they planned to kidnap y’r father to nurse it. A dead sea badger would not back up their lies about it, particularly if it had been dead some time.”

  “Well, the killer whale’s gone now,” said Robby.

  “Aye. But there’s the sea badger yet to worry about,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “Or, at least, I must worry about it, that being m’duty. However, there’s nothing to be done for the moment until we dry out and rest a wee bit. So pick y’rself a bit of shade, Robertson, and stretch out. And I’ll do the same.”

  “I wish I had something to eat,” said Robby.

  “I could do with a bite, myself,” admitted Mr. Lillibulero. “Unfortunately, we’ve nothing.”

  Robby sighed and took off his lung and crept in under an overhang of rock that cast a little shade. He pillowed his head on the lung and went immediately to sleep. Around the rocks Balthasar swam on patrol, and Mr. Lillibulero lay gazing at the rock overhead, deep in thought.

  Into the Dark Tunnel

  Robby was dreaming again. This time he was at an amusement park, standing by a hot-dog stand.

  “Hot dogs! Free hot dogs!” the man behind the stand was chanting. “Hot, fresh, juicy, delicious hot dogs! Have a hot dog, kid?”

  “Thanks,” said Robby. He took the hot dog the man gave him and ate it in three bites.

  “Hey, let’s see you do that again!” said the man, as people began to crowd around. “Look at this, folks.” He handed Robby another hot dog, and they all watched in amazement as Robby ate it in two bites. Murmurs of admiration went up.

  “Hey, kid, how’d you like to work for me?” said the man, leaning over the counter to whisper in Robby’s ear. “All the hot dogs you can eat and two dollars an hour. Show the folks how hot dogs ought to be eaten and drum up business?”

  “I don’t mind—for an hour or two,” said Robby.

  “You’ll have to start out by eating a dozen hot dogs in a row,” warned the man.

  “Huh!” said Robby. “What’s a dozen hot dogs? Give me two dozen.” The man served them up piping hot, and Robby polished them off without batting an eye.

  “Gee, kid, how do you do it?” asked a man in the crowd.

  “I’ve got a secret bite,” Robby told them. “I call it the Robby Snap. It’s the way I bring my teeth together. There’s no use your trying it,” he went on, as half a dozen people in the crowd rushed to order hot dogs, “nobody else in the world can do it, and it’s quite dangerous if you let your teeth slip. I learned it by watching killer whales and sharks in action.”

  “Whew!” said the man behind the counter. “I’m having to make so many hot dogs so fast that it’s getting too hot around here. I’m going to have to close down. Whew, it’s hot.”

  And it was getting hot. Robby tried to wipe his forehead and scratched his hand on a rock. Surprised, he blinked open his eyes—and woke up.

  The sun had moved in the sky, and the shade he had been lying in had disappeared. So had the dozens of dream hot dogs in his stomach. He felt thirsty, dizzy, headachy, in a bad humour, and very, very hollow inside. He sat up, rubbing his sticky eyes.

  Mr. Lillibulero was seated cross-legged like a Buddha, a few feet away. In front of him were a couple of white plastic jugs and several white plio-film cartons. Robby recognized them at once. They were the standard emergency rations every lifeboat and small sea—or aircraft had to carry under law.

  “Where’d you get those?” said Robby.

  “From the craft in y’r boathouse,” replied Mr. Lillibulero.“I swam over and slipped in while y’were sleeping.” He passed a jug and a couple of the cartons to Robby.

  “Thanks,” muttered Robby, looking sourly at the two objects in his hands. He knew very well what went into boat emergency rations, and was not too pleased at the prospect of eating them. What he really wanted was a triple-decker peanut-butter sandwich and an enormous tumbler of ice-cold milk.

  But there was no denying that he was thirsty, so he broke the seal on the white jug and took a swallow. The water inside was warm, and it had that particular flat taste that water gets when it has been sitting so long that all the air has gone out of it. But it flowed down Robby’s dry throat like lemonade. He took the jug away from his mouth and looked at it in astonishment.

  After drinking the water, Robby suddenly discovered how hungry he was. He broke open the carton and dug into the rations. And these, like the water, were surprisingly delicious. To him the hard, nourishing biscuits tasted like fine,crusty French bread, the chewy bar of compressed meat tasted better than fresh-grilled steak, and the cube of rich chocolate outdid all the sweets and desserts he had ever eaten.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Lillibulero had been sitting with his elbow in one hand and his chin in the other. His green eyes, veiled once more in thought, glowed like beryls set in some sooty idol. Robby opened his mouth to speak and then, wisely,thought better of it. He waited.


  After a moment, Mr. Lillibulero’s expression became bright and piercing again, and he glanced over at Robby.

  “Ah, Robertson,” he said. “I’ve come to a wee decision,here. Are y’through eating?”

  “I think so,” said Robby, and took another swallow of water. “Yes,” he said.

  “Ah then, pay attention,” said the little man. “We find ourselves at th’moment in a very preecarious position, y’understand. ‘Caught between the devil and the deep blue sea’ might weel describe it. On the one hand, prudence bids me try to swim to the mainland. On the other hand, duty calls me to remain here. And in spite of y’r Balthasar (fine beast though the creature is, I’ve n’doubt) I hesitate to let y’try to make the beach, y’rself.”

  “I could ” began Robby.

  “Dinna interrupt,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “As I was in the process of saying, my duty orders me to remain here. I must try to find and, if possible, recapture yon sea badger. There may be a bit of danger involved in th’job, and I hesitate t’expose y’to it. There y’see my dilemma—there’s danger foryou if I part with you, and danger if we stay together.”

  “I can take care of ”

  “Nobody,” said Mr. Lillibulero decisively, “can take care of himself in all situations. M’self, now, I’ve had a bit of expeerience wi’tight spots, but I wouldna say I could always take care of m’self. However, t’get back to the point. Since y’know this parteecular underwater area as well as y’do, and have y’r friend Balthasar for company, it appears t’be the lesser of two evils t’keep you with me. Accordingly, I’ve decided that we hunt the sea badger t’gether.”

  He paused and frowned at Robby.

  “Y’will, of course, obey orders at all times, and wi’out stopping to ask why.”

  Robby, who had been just about to get excited over the prospect of hunting the sea badger, found himself irritated,instead. The idea of Mr. Lillibulero treating him like a baby was more than he could stand, particularly when he thought of how much better he must know the creatures of the sea,and the area around the underwater station, than the little man possibly could.