Involution Ocean

“No more, Newhouse. Pull your mask cm tight; do you want to ruin your lungs?”

“But I only—'

“Go to sleep. And try to remember you’re an innocent man.” Desperandum turned off his lantern and thumped off into the darkness. .

I went below. My lungs burned, and sleep was slow in coming.

* * *

I was up at dawn for breakfast. The two men were missed at mess. There was a perfunctory search of the ves­sel, and hypocritical displays of deep concern from the cap­tain and myself. Desperandum amazed me; his perform­ance was so authentic that it seemed to hint at a split personality—no uncommon occurrence In a man of his age.

The situation could have been much worse; the two missing men had not been popular. No one cared for Mur­phig much; his mannerisms were peculiar, and he had come from the wrong social class for a sailor. Calothrick was even less liked; he was a cipher, a sinner, and an off-worlder to boot. In fact, many of the crew seemed to regret that Dalusa had not vanished as well; they had always de­spised her as a parody of womanhood. No doubt the sailors were profoundly disturbed by the “accident,” as it came to be called, but they didn’t talk about it much. They didn’t talk about anything much.

Desperandum’s official theory was that they had fought and fallen overboard, and everyone paid lip service to this idea.

The anxiety caused by the mishap may have accounted for the crew’s feverish energy that day. Desperandum soon had them working on the whale. They seemed inspired by the captain’s unflagging vitality and they worked like man­iacs on this incomprehensible task.

The methodical nature of the process showed the long thought behind it. First the whale was completely hollowed out and its insides cleansed and salted to prevent decay. Its gullet was cleaned out and plugged. Its eyes were dug out with harpoons and replaced with foot-thick lenses of trans­parent plastic coated with a clear, slippery substance that would retard dust abrasion . . . for a while, at least.

While this was being done Desperandum went into the hold and unlocked his hidden bulkhead. The engine, the tank of oxygen, the tub of glue, and the batteries were all dragged onto the deck.

Desperandum hauled the engine into the body cavity of the whale. Three men bored a long hole inside the whale lengthwise through the tail of the monster. The blacksmiths forged a long propeller shaft for Desperandum, and they thrust it through the hole. While the blacksmiths welded on the propeller Desperandum attached the batteries and started it up. The propeller whirred like a buzz saw.

Satisfied, Desperandum began work on the fins. They were attached to long iron levers inside the animal. The crew members were hardly able to budge them, but Des­perandum’s double-gravity strength allowed him to wiggle them almost as well as the whale.

Desperandum painted all the outside seals with glue, making them absolutely airtight. He had some problems with the propeller shaft, and the friction would soon wear away even the stout plastic washers and gaskets. But he seemed satisfied.

As we worked together on the day’s last meal, Dalusa and I were both remote and uneasy. She had to step aside from the tiny droplets of grease as I fried some meat, and she spoke in her momentary idleness.

“What is he doing, John? What is the captain doing?”

“Dalusa,” I said, “I couldn’t believe it at first, but its obvious by now that the damned thing’s a submarine,” and I explained to her the nature of submarines.

“To go beneath the surface? Will he use it?”

“He’s been thinking about it a long time,” I said, “and I think he’s going to ask me to go with him. In fact, I’m almost sure of it.”

“You? Both of you?”

“I think so.” I said with false cheerfulness. °

“But John, why?” she said, alarmed.

I answered offhandedly, “Someone has to take care of the old fellow, don’t you agree? He’s too careless. Why not me? I understand him, and I’m not afraid.”

“But John, it could be dangerous.”

“Oh, certainly,” I said. “I wouldn’t have done it myself. But the captain has his heart set on it, and I have an obli­gation to go if he asks.”

“But you might be killed, John! What then?”

“It’s never happened before,” I said, but the utter blankness of Dalusa’s response showed that my wit had been lost in translation. “It’s a little risky,” I said, “but I’m a resourseful sort—more so than the captain thinks.”

“Oh, John, don’t go! The thing that took the crewman . last night still might be waiting. Tell the captain to not go!”

“What thing that took the crewmen? Dalusa, don’t be absurd. They fell overboard. There’s nothing waiting down there.” I regretted the words as soon as they were spo­ken—they struck a chill into me. Dalusa seemed to perk up, though.

“I don’t understand mankind,” she said. “But this is hu­man, yes? To help someone who needs you, even if it’s dangerous—even if it hurts?”

“Yes.” I said, nodding sagely. “That’s part of it.”

“Then, John, goodt I can do that. I’m not afraid, either. Some day I will do that, too, and you can be proud of me—like I’m proud of you, John.”

“All right, sweetheart,” I said. I sniffed. “I think your pastry’s burning,” I said, and after that I saw to it that we talked of other things.

That night Desperandum called me into his cabin.

“This is it, Newhouse!” he told me excitedly. “I’m going down to see it with my own eyes! I want firsthand contact with the data!”

“That’s wonderful, Captain,” I said. “A remarkable feat of engineering. It’s hollow, though. How will you get it to sink?”

“The crew is storing ballast in it this very minute.”

“Then how will you get back to the surface?”

“Easily. Just like flying an airplane. It’s also heavier than the medium that supports it, you see? And I have a power­ful engine.”

“Then how will you get out?”

“I have my axe on board. I’ll rendezvous with the Lun­glance and cut my way out in a matter of seconds.”

“And the sharks, Captain?”

“They can’t follow me into the depths. I’ve examined their metabolisms; they’re not built for it. This whale is built for better things than they.”

“How will you breathe?”

“I have my oxygen mask!” the captain shouted. “I have it all planned!”

“It’s an amazing piece of work, Captain,” I told him’ soothingly.

Desperandum looked at me sharply. He got up from his worktable and went to the cabin door. He opened it quickly and looked out, but there toas no one there. He shut the door and bolted it.

“I’m glad, to see you show so much enthusiasm for the venture,” he said. “Because I want you to come with me.”

I had expected this and I made a determined effort to talk my way out of it. “Captain, sir,” I said, “who financed this expedition? Who worked tirelessly to promote it? Who chose the experiments, carried them out, recorded them? Who made a lasting contribution to human knowledge, gave new insights into the ecology of an entire planet? It was you. My contributions were minimal, not worth men­tioning. No, Captain; you honor me too much, you flatter me beyond my worth. What would they say of me? That my reputation was made at the expense of a better man. I’m just a ship’s cook, a wanderer far from home, but I have too much pride to sink to such a thing.” Aghast at my unconscious pun, I hurried on. “The glory should all be yours, Captain. It belongs not to me, but to Nils Desperan­dum.”