Thomas found himself in silent agreement. The kelp around them was watching and waiting. He felt like the child of that faraway day at Moonbase when he had entered the crèche school for the first time. There was a truth revealed here which most educators ignored: You could learn dangerous things.

“If it’s watching us, where are its eyes?” Waela whispered.

Thomas thought this a nonsense question. The kelp could possess senses which Shipmen had never imagined. You might just as well ask about Ship’s eyes. But he could not deny that sense of watchfulness around the sub. The presence which the kelp projected onto the intruders was an almost palpable thing.

The recorder buzzed beside him and he saw the green lights which signaled the shift to replay. Now, the extruded bubbles on the carrier surface were playing back something, he had no idea what. Exterior sensors revealed only a glow of many colors reflecting off particles in the water.

He could see no discernible change in the light play from the kelp.

“Ignoring us.” That was Waela.

“Too soon to say,” Panille objected. “What’s the response time of the kelp? Or maybe we’re not even speaking to it yet.”

“Try the pattern display,” Waela said.

Thomas nodded, punched for the prepared program. This had been the alternate approach. The small screen above the recorder board began to show what was being displayed on the sub’s hull: first Pythagorean squares, then the counting of the sticks, the galactic spiral, the pebble game . . .

No response from the kelp,

The dim shapes of swimmers among the kelp did not change their movements dramatically. All appeared to be the same.

Waela, studying her own screens, asked: “Am I mistaken or are the lights brighter?”

“A bit brighter perhaps,” Thomas said.

“They are brighter,” Panille said. “It seems to me that the water is . . . murkier. If . . . Look at the anchor cable!”

Thomas flicked to the view Panille’s screen displayed, saw the sensors signaling the approach of some large object from above.

“The cable’s gone slack,” Waela said. “It’s sinking!”

As she spoke, they all saw the first remnants of the LTA bag settling around them into the range of the dive lights—dull orange reflections from the fabric, black edges. It pulled a curtain over the bubble dome above them. This disturbed the creatures among the kelp and ignited a wild flickering in the kelp lights which vanished as the curtain settled around the sub.

“Lightning hit the bag,” Waela said. “It . . .”

“Stand by to drop the carrier and blow all tanks,” Thomas said. He reached for the controls, fighting to suppress panic.

“Wait!” Panille called. “Wait for all of the bag to settle. We could be trapped in it, but the sub can cut a way through it.”

I should’ve thought of that, Thomas thought. The bag could trap us down here.

Chapter 42

Chapter 42