Action Division Three

by Perry Rhodan

  The next time it appeared, it was always to make its attack. It was as though it knew that its first appearance could fill the Ghamese with such unholy terror that for that very reason they would become its helpless victims.

  "I need a kind of harpoon," said Ron.

  "It's there," said Larry without turning. "Everything's there. The only thing we've never had around here is somebody who thinks he's going to catch a Lidiok with harpoon and tackle."

  "Yup, I'm a rarity alright," Ron laughed. He brought out the harpoon and started to fasten it to the line instead of the hook. "When does this fellow show up?"

  "In three or four minutes," Larry answered, "If it hasn't figured out a new strategy."

  "Why do the Ghamese hide themselves behind that enclosure? I always thought a Lidiok was a kind of fish. What can it do against them on land?"

  "Quite simple. It rushes up onto the land, takes hold of as many as it can and rushes back into the water."

  "Aha! As simple as all that? I thought it was as big as a house."

  "That it is," grumbled Larry.

  "But how can a..." Ron started to ask more but was interrupted by Larry, who was by now worked up.

  "Listen, you Terran greenhorn! The last local sighting of a Lidiok was three months ago. It rushed onto the land and ate four of my Ghamese before I could do a thing. I was actually at the opposite end of the island at the time. If you look over there you can still see the trough the monster made in the ground! That wreckage is what's left of a warehouse that collapsed when it hit it. And so-you were saying..."

  He had turned away from the sea toward Ron to tell him this and now Ron was looking over his shoulder.

  "OK, OK, Larry," he muttered reassuringly. "I didn't mean anything by it and now that I see it I'll take you at your word..."

  Larry whirled around: 50 meters ahead of the boat the main fin of the Lidiok had emerged, towering at least five meters above the water.

  "Better keep more to the right!" called Ron.

  He stood in the stern of the boat with the heavy automatic in his hand, its barrel pointed downward.

  Larry wished that he'd tell him what he had in mind to do. So far Ron had only given out orders and it was not easy to figure what he was up to. The Lidiok had become alerted. A portion of its massive head appeared above the surface, showing the 20 cm hemispheres of its giant eyes. Apparently it had decided to hold up its attack on the island until it had investigated this small object that had been coming at it so sharply.

  Larry did not feel any too confident. He knew that the boat and the Lidiok were equally fast at top speed. But he also knew that the Lidiok could shatter the boat with one blow of his mighty tail. He felt that Ron Landry did not understand too much about Lidiok hunting. That was the worst part about it.

  Now the monster was swimming laterally from the boat. Since the boat was even with it, it would have to turn to keep it in view. From a distance of 30 meters Larry could see the thing's watery, treacherous eyes, the broad forehead-like superstructure of its skull and the triangular fin that towered as high as a house above the water.

  "Faster!" yelled Ron. "Before it thinks of something else!"

  Larry shoved the throttle to the limit. The Lidiok turned a bit more but did not seem interested in having the boat follow it Larry knew that after awhile it would turn toward the land to make its attack.

  So far Ron had not taken his eyes from the creature for a second but now he turned about swiftly. In a smooth, deft movement he bent down and snatched the harpoon from the floor of the boat. "Make a sharp turn!" he called to Larry. "Then come in toward it at an angle-at top speed so we can pass its head within one or two meters!"

  Larry did what he was told. While the boat spun the sharp turn in the water he began to suspect what Ron was intending. The fever of the chase began to grip him also. His previous apprehensions of only moments before had vanished. He brought the motor to top speed and the boat seemed to spring from the water rushing with rising momentum toward the preying monster.

  Ron now had his weapon raised for action.

  On the island the Ghamese spectators emerged from hiding. Having finally perceived what the two outworlders were attempting to do, curiosity overcame their instinctive fear. They crouched in the low beach grass with their eyes fixed on the scene before them.

  The boat's sudden turn and speed surprised the Lidiok. Ron timed their movement precisely. The distance between the pivot-point of the turn and the Lidiok's skull was great enough to permit a powerful approach run, yet it was short enough so that the beast could not do much before Ron reached it.

  Larry was bent far forward now with his hand on the throttle and his feet braced against the floorboards. He knew he'd need firm anchorage if the Lidiok turned savage. He stared in fascination at Ron.

  Ron was far forward, practically on the bowsprit. It would take but a very small jolt to send him flying into the water, where he would be beyond help under the circumstances. In addition to his energy gun, he now had the harpoon in position also. His gaze was fixed immovably on the eyes of the Lidiok as though he hoped to hypnotize it.

  5 meters to go!

  Then Ron let out a cry that was primordial, utterly savage. In the same instant the gun recoiled in his left hand. A brilliant ray of unleashed energy struck the wide, ugly head of the giant. The water began to glow as hissing steam rose upward.

  Ron leaned way back. Although the weapon seemed to drop from his hand inadvertently, it fell precisely into the sharp bow compartment of the boat. He put the whole force of his body behind the harpoon throw and in the midst of the hissing sounds of the water Larry heard a muffled "plop!" Momentarily frozen in alarm he also noted that Ron was about to fly right out of the boat alter the harpoon. His heave had been too wide, or so it seemed. But Ron very calmly yielded to the pull while at the same time falling just aft of the gunwale. He supported himself powerfully then and heaved back. That gained him his balance and he again stood up in his former position.

  By this time the Lidiok had come to realize what was happening although it did not have much left to think with. The impulse beam must have carved a deep molten channel through its skull. But an instinctive reaction against the attack caused the creature to lunge forward. With the last sparks of its consciousness it had perceived the boat's direction of motion as it shot past its head and the Lidiok began to follow the comparatively flimsy craft.

  Larry tried to push the throttle down farther but the motor had no additional reserves of power. He saw the steaming cloud that concealed the Lidiok's great head, no more than 10 meters astern. In its death throes the monster was generating a titanic burst of energy. If Ron's shot didn't take effect within a few seconds the boat was doomed.

  Something slid past Larry's head and came within a hair of making him lose his balance. It was the harpoon line. It was running through Ron's hands and paying out behind them. The Lidiok remained exactly on course.

  Larry was kneeling down beside the motor. He wasn't thinking anymore of the fact that the boat was very close to shore now and that it would strike the land with a heavy impact if he didn't slow down at the right moment. He was going for cover behind the motor block because the Lidiok was gaining with incredible speed.

  Ron shouted something that Larry couldn't understand. His gaze was fixed in fascination on the steam cloud which by now he could almost reach out and touch. He could see the mighty shape of the beast in silhouette behind the steam.

  Then the vapors suddenly fell back. Larry couldn't believe his eyes. He thought that the Lidiok was merely gathering itself for a renewed charge. But the vapors gradually settled and hovered sluggishly over the water while the boat continued its headlong course toward the land. Larry jumped up and began to yell. He threw his arms in the air and shouted senseless words out of sheer joy and relief. But providence granted him only a brief instant of triumph. A murderous shock ran through the boat Larry's feet shot out from under him as he described a high arc th
in the air, finally landing almost at the feet of the watching Ghamese, who were momentarily frozen in fear.

  The grass eased the impact of the fall. He got to his feet although he felt slightly benumbed and confused. Not far away, Ron was also getting up, still holding onto the harpoon line.

  Lying partially on its side the boat had come five meters up onto the beach. It did not appear to be damaged but it had cut a deep trench thin the sand which was now slowly filling with water.

  Nothing more could be seen of the Lidiok. The harpoon line sank into the water a few meters out from shore.

  Ron watched it and grumbled: "I thought we could get it in closer than that!"

  Larry shook his head. "Tell me the truth-you knew more about Lidioks than you've let on!"

  Ron laughed. "Maybe a little bit," he answered. "Back on Earth they had an idea that maybe I'd run into a Lidiok so they put me through a short hypno-course on the subject." He attempted to pull on the line. It lifted slightly out of the water but then suddenly tautened and would not budge farther. "OK," he muttered. "We'll span a few boats together and then pontoon it out."

  "You want to bring it onto the land?"

  Ron nodded. "Otherwise why would I have gone to all this trouble? I knew that we'd lose it if we killed it out in deeper water. Then we'd have either had to cut the line or be dragged into the deep. I tried to guide it in behind us and it worked. Besides-you were a terrific boatman!"

  "Much obliged," retorted Larry drily. "But I'd like to know..."

  He was interrupted by the Ghamese natives. They had recovered from their state of shock and had begun to hop around, singing for joy. They formed a circle around the two Terrans and started a ritual sort of euphoric roundelay. The singing wasn't especially harmonious but from the words chanted it was plain that they held the two outworlders in high esteem for their heroic deed.

  In spite of being ready to burst with restlessness, Ron Landry forced himself to endure the ceremonies. He squatted in the grass and occasionally gave the dancing Ghamese a friendly nod. He knew that the poorest protocol possible at the moment would be to interrupt these smooth-skinned fishmen in their present activity.

  More than an hour passed before the Ghamese appeared to be satisfied that they had given sufficient expression to their enthusiasm. The circle finally broke up and the little brown-skinned men and women returned to their work.

  Ron got to his feet. They went back to Larry's office. Ron was about to speak when Zatok suddenly appeared at the door.

  "Ah, there you are, garma!" said Ron in the indigenous tongue. "I'm happy to see you. What brings you to us?"

  Zatok was acting strangely in a way that Larry knew was not his custom. He had known Zatok for more than a year now. He had been one of the first of the Ghamese to declare himself willing to live together with the Terrans on Killanak and help them build their station. Larry thought he knew every expression of Zatok's face but at the moment the fellow was acting differently than ever before.

  He seemed to be ashamed or embarrassed. He held his gaze averted and in spite of Ron's friendly overture he did not speak a word. It took him a minute before he finally looked at Larry, then at Ron as he finally spoke.

  "Garma-ma (Plural: Friends)," he began softly, "you have done us a great service. We're thankful to you that you have killed this evil Lidiok and we wish to show our gratitude. We know something that we believe you'd like very much to be informed about I'd like to tell you this. It has to do with five people of your own race..."

  6/ CITY BENEATH THE SEA

  Freighter EMPRESS OF ARKON to Relay 14: Sample secured. Standing by. Over...

  Relay 14 to EMPRESS OF ARKON: Take off at once. Out...

  • • •

  When he finally regained consciousness, Richard Silligan's first sensation was that of the terrible odor around him. He opened his eyes. Somewhere high above him was a bright, smoking red light.

  His memory came back to him slowly. The first thing he recalled was the space boat. They had tried to land on Ghama. They had crashed. They had fallen into the sea and-yes, that was it-a submarine vessel had picked them up. Then Lyn Trenton had flipped his lid and tried to throw his weight around. The Ghamese natives had put them under gas and they had passed out.

  So now?

  He had no idea where he was at present. Vertical stone walls rose up on both sides of him and the red lamp was at least seven meters overhead. He raised up slowly. Not far from him were four dark shapes lying on the floor. They were his companions. They had all been brought to this place together and he was the first to regain his senses.

  Richard got to his feet. He felt somewhat better and above all was filled with curiosity. He recalled that the Ghamese in the submarine-the one called Gherek-had mentioned that they were to be taken to 'the city'. But the Ghamese natives were water people. The larger portion of their settlements were always under water, normally on the coastline of some island land mass so that shafts of fresh air could be brought into the undersea areas.

  Richard wondered if the room they were in now belonged to such a submarine city. He began to explore the walls. He discovered that the chamber was nearly circular in shape, about six meters in diameter and that there were no doors anywhere. If there were a means of exit at all it would have to be above him. He leaned back and stared up at the lamp. A sense of despondency came over him. How could they ever climb up there? If they still had their weapons they might have been able to burn some handholds in the wall. But without them...?

  Something was rustling nearby. When he whirled around he saw that one of the shapes on the floor had started to stir. Somebody groaned aloud and Richard recognized the voice. It was Ez Rykher. He kneeled down in order to help him up.

  Rykher got up with astonishing swiftness. "Ye gods," he groaned, "do I ever feel cratchy! What have they done with us?"

  As he began to stagger sideways, Richard caught him under his arms. "They put us under some kind of knockout gas," he answered. "The effects wear off pretty fast-it's just the first few minutes you have to fight it."

  Rykher struggled valiantly to stay on his feet. He was the oldest one in the group, thought Richard, but so far he had come up with the best ideas, and if Lyn Trenton could follow his example he would gain more respect from others.

  "Where's the way out of here?" Ez wanted to know.

  "No place," answered Richard. "Except maybe straight up!"

  The old man looked above him. "Too high!" he muttered, disappointedly. "Way too high!"

  One after the other the rest of the survivors came to. First Tony Laughlin, then Dynah Langmuir and finally Lyn Trenton. The latter felt so bad that he was moved to submissiveness.

  He finally came and spoke to Richard, "I've been thinking this thing over, Dick. I guess I've acted pretty stupidly. Forget it and let me join forces with you."

  Richard concealed his surprise behind a smile. "That's OK with me," he answered. "But why not start now? How are you for high-jumps, Lyn-like up there, for instance?"

  Trenton looked up. Each of them had so far only stared at the lamp above them without any idea of how it might help them to get out of their predicament. However, Trenton observed it a little longer and as he dropped his gaze finally he seemed to have something in mind.

  "What are these spacesuits made of?" he asked suddenly.

  "Anybody's guess," retorted Richard. "Chemicals? I don't know. Most likely they're synthetic."

  "Can they be torn into pieces?"

  "Not on your life! Maybe with a good knife you could get through the stuff."

  "Do you have one?"

  "I think I should have..."

  He began to search through his pockets and finally he produced a small pocketknife. This type of spacesuit was also equipped with a large jackknife but the Ghamese captors had taken them away. Apparently, however, they had not considered the smaller penknife to be of any importance.

  Now Trenton pointed upward again. "That lamp has to be suspended
by something," he said. "On a line or a cord of some kind. If we also had a cord and tied something heavy to it, we could swing it upward and maybe snare that lamp. Then if we're lucky, what's holding it could also hold us while we climb up."

  Richard rocked his head slightly from side to side, considering. He didn't give the idea much chance of success hut any measure of hope was better than none at all. "Alright," he decided, "we'll give it a try."

  Everybody caught on to Lyn Trenton's plan and started to work with enthusiasm. Of course there was only one knife but each survivor got busy looking for anything on his person which could be used for making a strong enough rope. Ez Rykher contributed his suit jacket and shirt and Tony Laughlin surrendered the jacket of his uniform. There was nothing much Dynah Langmuir could offer without denuding herself; however to the astonishment of the men she knew how to tie old-fashioned ship's knots, which required little material yet held fast. The length of rope made out of such pieces, however, only reached about four meters and of course the rest of it had to be fashioned out of strips from the spacesuits. If that didn't succeed, then they would have labored in vain.

  Silligan took off his spacesuit and began working on it where he thought he might have the best chance-where the outside pockets had been sweated onto the tough material. They were not integral to the actual suit envelope, being designed to carry such objects as could be used safely under outer space conditions. Richard worked for some time without results until he discovered a way to separate the seams. If he worked the blade back and forth fast enough so that the factor of heat was added, the process began to become effective. It still took him another half hour before he could cut off the pocket flap but it was only 20 cm long, not even a pitiable 20th of the length they still needed.

  But they did not tire. Richard handed the knife over to Ez Rykher and the old man demonstrated that he was very familiar with the use of such a primitive instrument. Within another hour and a half he produced an additional 80 cm of rope length.