Secrets of the Deep

by Gordon R. Dickson

  Cerberus looked at the little man almost as if he understood him, then looked suddenly back to Robby as the boy, holding the Control Box in the transparent gloved hands of his Outside Suit, sent a mild pleasure impulse to the big seal.

  He had guessed that Waub had not trained Cerberus with pleasure impulses—what animal trainers call “reward ” training, such as giving an animal something he likes to eat after he has performed a trick or duty properly. Robby was willing to bet that Waub had used “punishment” training, sending fear or panic signals into Cerberus’s brain whenever the big seal did not obey a command. That kind of training is like beating a donkey with a stick to make it move. It requires less patience for the trainer, but it only works for the crudest sort of orders and commands, and often it does not work at all.Some animals will never learn that way. They are like brave men who prefer death to slavery.

  So Robby used the other method, which is really the only proper method. He sent little pleasure signals to the big seal,and when Cerberus began to respond, he gradually mixed the pleasure signals with gentle command signals: first for Cerberus to wriggle forward on the ice, then to stop, then to turn right and left. Finally he gave the signal to enter the water.

  Cerberus turned, wriggled to the edge of the ice and suddenly tobogganed down a six-foot slope to enter the sea. He slipped clear out Of sight under the water for a moment; then his head popped up again like an otter’s to look back at them.

  “Go on, Cerberus!” called Robby, as he sent the big seal a signal to swim away from the ice flow, out toward the open ocean. “Go find the Palship. Go.” He opened his suit, tucked the Control Box inside at his belt, and sealed the suit again.

  The heavy dog-like head turned. Facing away from the ice and the land, Cerberus began to swim, leaving the small V-shape of his wake trailing on the heaving water behind him. Straight out into the waters of the more than twelve thousand miles of the Antarctic and Pacific oceans he swam without hesitation, into the mile-deep ocean where the killer whale hunted, and there was no floe ice upon which to climb or among which to hide.

  “It’s a good beast,” said Mr. Lillibulero softly, as they watched the head of the swimming seal lose itself among the waves. “It seems hardly fair to send him out there among the dangers while we stand here, and safe.”

  The skua which had hovered about them all this time swooped down close above their heads, squawking shrilly at them.

  “Safe!” cried the voice of the Director of the Tropicans over them. “You just think you’re safe! Look behind you!”

  Under the Pack Ice

  “Mr. Lillibulero! Look!” shouted Robby. “The skua’s wearing a Control Cap and a transceiver!”

  It was true. The skua was now swooping low enough for them to see; obviously Waub no longer cared whether they knew the bird was controlled or not. It had a collar around its neck and a transceiver and a Control Cap much smaller than any Robby had ever seen before—evidently a model which had been designed for small animals or birds.

  “It’s a matter of small moment, now, Robertson,” said Mr. Lillibulero, looking, not up in the air at the skua, but back the way they had come. He held up one gloved hand to shadow his helmet from the glare of the Antarctic sun. “It’s not just a bird we have to worry about.”

  Robby looked where Mr. Lillibulero was looking. Through a small gap in the tumbled ice, he caught sight of something black that moved and disappeared again.

  “What is it?” Robby looked at his companion. “Tropicans,” he replied. “There’ll be at least half a dozen of them coming after us. I counted five just now, and there’ll be others behind those.”

  Robby stared at him. Mr. Lillibulero turned to look at the boy. There was a sparkle to his green eyes and a grim little smile on his lips.

  “Well, Robertson,” he said, “there’s still the small chance we can keep out of their hands until help arrives, though a slim chance it is. While we’re still free, yon Waub’ll not dare set off his explosives on the penguins and seals he’s already sent out, for fear we’ve sent off some message t’point the finger of guilt at him after he does.”

  “But if all he cares about is Gondwanaland,” said Robby, “won’t he just be thinking of that, and not care if people know or not?”

  “Dinna fool y’rself,” replied Mr. Lillibulero. “In his inner self, Waub knows his Gondwanaland is but a shimmering dream, with but one chance in a million of its coming to be as he says. Inside, even if he won’t admit it to himself, he has thought of what may happen if he sets off all his explosives and nothing but bad comes from it. And that fear will hold him until we’re safely in his hands and he’s sure there’s no proof he was responsible, if things go wrong.”

  The little man smiled at Robby.

  “Did y’notice perhaps,” he said, “that when you were talking to Waub he could not bear any argument against Gondwanaland?”

  Robby nodded.

  “He got mad at me,” said Robby, “when I didn’t believe it right away.”

  “Aye,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “if he was as certain as he makes out t’be, he would have only felt sorry for you that you did not have the wit t’realize what was so obviously true. But when he lost his temper about it, he gave himself away. An honest man may lose his temper when he is attacked unfairly.But he will not do it often, or at the first sign of opposition as Waub does at the first suggestion of a different point of view.”

  “Dad,” said Robby, “likes to argue, but he doesn’t lose his temper.” He thought about it. “Sometimes I do.”

  “As y’get older and more experienced, you will do it less,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “Not that a man should give up the right to anger when the need actually arises and his cause is just. But we should not stand here gabbing, Robertson.Follow me!”

  He turned and led the way at a trot to the left along the strip of level ice on the edge of the ocean. Robby ran with him. In their Outside Suits, running was not the easy job it would have been in ordinary clothing, but nevertheless it was a great deal easier than it would have been in the heavy clothing of early explorers like Scott, Amundsen, Mawson, and Shackleton, or even scientists of the first International Geophysical Year in the mid-twentieth century.

  Accordingly, Robby and Mr. Lillibulero trotted with fair quickness along the ice, and in seconds they were out of view of the Tropicans who had been climbing toward them through the icy badlands they had crossed earlier.

  As soon as they had made about fifty yards down the flat stretch of ice, Mr. Lillibulero turned and led Robby back into the badlands. And as soon as they were well in among this tumbled mass of ice blocks, he stopped, sat down and gestured to Robby to do likewise.

  Robby found a convenient bump of ice and sat on it. He was glad to rest, but he was puzzled also. He looked over at Mr. Lillibulero.

  “Why are we stopping?” he asked. “They’ll just catch up with us that much faster.”

  Mr. Lillibulero pointed up in the air, and Robby looked up to see the skua still sailing not far from them.

  “When y’are being hunted,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “an extra ounce of brain is worth several extra inches of leg, Robertson. Wi’ that bird up there, we canna hope t’simply outrun them. We must get where the skua canna see us and send back word to Waub of where we are and the direction in which we’re heading.”

  “But how can we get where the skua can’t see us?” said Robby.

  “First things first,” replied Mr. Lillibulero. “Before we take care of that, we’ll just tire th’ men behind us out a bit.You and I just had an easy run of it down the open ice next to the water. But now we’re back in among the difficult chunk ice, and those behind us’11 have had to change direction andc over the same distance through these badlands to reach us.They dare not come through t’the open ice and follow us that way, for fear we’ll slip back past them through this tumbled mass of blocks.”

  “Oh,” said Robby. “I see. And following, they’ll get more tired than we will.�
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  “Indeed,” said Mr. Lillibulero. He got back to his feet again. “And now, if y’ave caught y’r breath, we’ll get along again.”

  Robby got up and they went on, through and around the blocks of frozen ice. Now and then they would come to a little open space, but soon they would be back where they had to climb over or wriggle between chunks of ice.

  Robby was getting tired, and Mr. Lillibulero, seeing this,stopped once more and sat down, motioning Robby to do the same. Robby dropped with relief on a level piece of ice as Mr. Lillibulero sat down cross-legged opposite him. The little man seemed to be made of spring steel. Robby had slept and eaten since they had both had to bail out of the flyer. But Mr. Lillibulero had had no sleep and only a handful of candy from the personal kitchen of the Director of the Tropicans; yet he looked as fresh as if he had just got up out of bed.

  “Why don’t you get tired?” Robby asked him now.

  “I do, Robertson,” the little man replied. “However,being in good physical shape wi’ steady exercise, regular hours of sleep, and good food enables me to stand fatigue better than some. A man can do much or little wi’ his own body as he wants. He can choose t’be in shape, or t’be like yon poor fat grubworm of a Director, barely able t’get out of his chair without help.”

  “He’s pretty studgy,” said Robby. “That’s what I call people like that—studgy. ”

  “If y’mean what I think y’mean by studgy,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “I’ll agree with you, Robertson. And now, we must be going again.”

  Robby would just as soon have sat where he was a few moments longer. But after talking about Waub as Robby had,he could hardly ask to rest longer without running the risk of having the little man think Robby was perhaps a little studgy himself.

  They had covered a good distance now of this rough going but gradually they were being overtaken. Through the ear-phones in his helmet, Robby could hear behind them the shouts of the pursuers, as they occasionally caught a glimpse of Robby and Mr. Lillibulero. Robby’s spirits began to sink.

  He suddenly realized that all this time he had been expecting Mr. Lillibulero to work some sort of miracle that would save them from the men that were after them.

  Now, he began to face the fact that perhaps they had run out of miracles. But, just then, Mr. Lillibulero ducked around a small mountain of ice in their path and stopped suddenly with an exclamation of satisfaction.

  Robby caught himself just in time from running into the little man from behind and peered over Mr. Lillibulero’s shoulder to see what could be making his friend sound so happy. He caught a glimpse of a crack in the ice between two floes that were frozen together. The crack was about a foot and a half wide at its widest, and black sea water showed in the opening.

  “Come, Robertson!” said Mr. Lillibulero. “We’re about to play a trick on our winged spy overhead.” He moved on,glancing up at the skua which had continued to circle between them and their pursuers. “We’ll just wait until we hit a bit more watery territory.”

  “Is the ice getting thin?” said Robby, feeling a small shiver go down his spine at the thought of being trapped at last by the men behind.

  “We’re nearing the far end of this big floe,” said Mr. Lillibulero. “There’ll be more open water from now on.”

  He was a true prophet. Soon they were having to circle around the edges of patches of open water as large as duck ponds. The voices of the men behind became louder as they rapidly began to catch up. Mr. Lillibulero, however, kept right on, only now and then glancing up over his shoulder at the circling skua. He was moving now almost at a trot, and it was all Robby could do to stay close to him.

  For the first time it crossed Robby’s mind to wonder if Mr. Lillibulero would go on and leave him if Robby could no longer keep up. He had always thought of the little man as someone he could always depend on, but now he remembered that Mr. Lillibulero was first and foremost an agent of the International Police. It might well be that he would, at the last, put his duties before his friendship to Robby and go on alone.

  Robby glanced at the little man now as together they dodged the ice blocks, hoping to read some sign of worry or concern in the man’s eyes for the boy who was with him. But Mr. Lillibulero’s eyes were as hard as emeralds and glittered with a fierce light.

  “Faster, Robertson, faster!” he hissed.

  “I—can’t—” panted Robby, stumbling and reeling as they were forced to turn once more to avoid a sea-filled hole in the pack ice. “I—”

  He tried to catch Mr. Lillibulero’s eye, to make him see how exhausted he was. But Mr. Lillibulero had his head twisted, glancing at the skua, which had just now circled back toward the pursuers, showing its tail to Robby and Mr. Lillibulero.

  “Now," snapped the small man. And, without warning, he slapped both their helmets closed, wrapped his arms around Robby and dragged him off the ice and into the open water alongside.

  The water closed over their heads. Robby, too exhausted to struggle, felt the little man, swimming strongly, towing himd own and away.

  A moment later the ice was everywhere over their heads and they were shut away from the air and most of the light,where all directions seemed the same and all openings to the above world were lost to sight.

  Day of Battles

  After Mr. Lillibulero had swum for some little distance, he stopped and they floated up together until they came to rest against the ice, which was as lumpy below as it was above. Mr. Lillibulero put his helmet up against Robby’s helmet.

  “Can y’swim on y’r own now, laddie?” His voice came thinly to Robby’s ears through the double layer of the two transparent helmets. Robby nodded.

  “Good,” came Mr. Lillibulero’s thin voice. “I’ll explain to y’now what I’ve got in mind. We’re going to double back under the ice and get behind them. Unless they’ve thought to put a guard under the ice or bring a boat or ship into position under it, we can play hide-and-seek wi’ them for a while yet.”

  Robby nodded for a second time.

  “Good,” said Mr. Lillibulero again. “Follow me, then. First we’ll swim on out to the edge of the ice, and follow tha tso we’ll not get lost. When it seems safe, we’ll come back out, up on the ice, and hide amongst the ice blocks again.”

  He turned and swam off, with Robby after him. Swimming easily under the ice was an entirely different thing from scrambling laboriously over it. Soon they began to see lightness in the water ahead of them, and shortly they came to the beginning of sunlit water.

  Looking up, they saw the edge of the ice floe, like a bumpy ceiling, broken off abruptly. Mr. Lillibulero pointed with his arm and began to swim back in the direction they had come on top of the ice. Suddenly, Mr. Lillibulero stopped swimming, and put out an arm through the water to stop Robby. They hung together just under the edge of the floe.Mr. Lillibulero pointed ahead.

  Robby looked. So far in front of them that it was just barely possible for him to make it out, he saw something that at first looked like a looming, gray shadow under water just at the edge of the floe. It was drifting toward them.

  Mr. Lillibulero’s helmet made a quiet, underwater tick as it touched Robby’s helmet.

  “It’s the yacht.” Mr. Lillibulero’s voice came to Robby’s ears. “They’ve brought their Headquarters itself t’help capture us. We’ll have to turn back, Robertson.”

  He turned and began to lead back the way they had come. Robby swam behind him. After a while he looked back and he could no longer see the yacht behind them. He looked sideways at Mr. Lillibulero and swam close to put his helmet against the little man’s helmet.

  “They’ve gone away,” said Robby. “Look!”

  Inside his helmet, Mr. Lillibulero’s head shook in disagreement. “They’ll be holding the ship down to the speed of their men on top of the ice,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “and staying a little distance behind so that they can listen through the ice for sounds to show we’ve slipped back past the searchers on top of the floe.”
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  He turned his helmet away, beckoning Robby, and swam on. After some time, patches of light began to show through the darkness to their right, where up until now the floe had been a solid roof.

  They were coming to the part of the ice where they had first started swimming. The patches of light meant open stretches in the ice, where the sunlight could strike down and illuminate the water. Mr. Lillibulero swam on a little further,and then turned and headed toward the light patches. He picked one and approached it cautiously. Then his head broke through the shimmering ceiling of the water into the air, he looked about for a second, then motioned Robby to follow him, and climbed out onto a level edge of ice only a few inches above the water, but sloping up and back.

  He could not have picked a better place for them to come up out of the water. They were in a little pocket in the ice with sloping walls all around them. Mr. Lillibulero motioned Robby to stay where he was and the little man crept up one side of the cup and looked back the way they had come. He ducked quickly back, however, and without a word came down and climbed the opposite wall to dart a quick glance out before returning to Robby, who was sitting on the ice by the open water, adjusting the heat controls to his helmet so that the water still on it would not freeze in the cold air.

  Mr. Lillibulero sat down facing Robby and opened his helmet a crack. Robby did the same.

  “Well, Robertson,” said Mr. Lillibulero, “it’s probably best y’should know the facts. And the facts are that they have us trapped. The ice beyond us goes only a few yards further and then the floe ends. And th’ bunch that’s been following us on the ice is getting close. What’s been happening wi’that leopard seal of yours?”

  Robby unsealed his Outside Suit and unhooked the Control Box from his belt. He held it up and stared at the tiny vision screen in it. He worked its controls for a moment, and then he turned to the little man.

  “Mr. Lillibulero!” he said. “It’s not working! It’s gone dead!”

  “Dead?” Mr. Lillibulero’s voice was quiet, but his eyes had a hard, green light. “Y’mean it’s not working?”