At oh-five-hundred he got up, shaved and dressed, and went to the Control Center. He spoke to the security guards at the door, crossed the anteroom and went in.
"That’s all right, Davis, you’re relieved. Go and get some sleep, or whatever you like.”
“Sir?”
“I said you’re relieved. Go home; that’s an order.”
The young man stood up slowly and left the room. Bliss went and tapped the communications man on the shoulder; he looked up, raising the earphones. “You’re relieved,” Bliss said. “Go on, get out.”
When they were both gone, Bliss locked the door and sat down for the last time in the command chair.
Never in his professional career had he had to make a decision like this. It was not his style at all; he was an administrator, not one of your Yankee skippers quelling mutinies with a marlinspike or bringing his ship through a gale around Cape Hom. But he was squarely against it now: there were no longer two choices, only one.
He looked at the inertial guidance display on the console. Their position was a little more than three miles due east of Rota. He waited and watched the chronometer, then pressed the buttons to bring Sea Venture to the surface.
Great tub that she was, she would break up like a house of cards if he ran her ashore in this weather. He had a glimpse of bulkheads collapsing, water rushing down the corridors like a gray fist.
As he waited, he felt a vague dissatisfaction, a feeling of something unfinished. It was too bad about the radio; he would have liked to try to get a call through to his wife, just to say good-bye.
53
As the great vessel rose, waves fell over her like mountains. She dipped and shuddered, and her massive fabric groaned. Cups fell off tables, then vases from stands. Throughout Sea Venture, people sat up in bed, gasped questions at each other. The motion of the vessel around them was like a betrayal, like an earthquake. The sounds were like nothing they had ever heard. Then the loudspeakers in the corridors came to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Chief Bliss. We are experiencing some turbulence as a result of surfacing to avoid a submerged obstacle. We will be descending to a safe depth shortly. There is no cause for alarm, and the lifeboats will not be used. I repeat, the lifeboats will not be used. Thank you and good night.”
Malcolm got up and began to dress.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“If I have to drown, I don’t want to do it in bed.”
After a moment she laughed. “Come here a minute first,” she said. “You know, I never realized before how much I love you.”
Emily and Jim sat looking at each other. Jim’s face was pale; there were beads of sweat on his forehead. “Em,” he said, “I’m sorry, you know—for everything.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “Maybe—”
“What?”
“Maybe this is a good time to forgive each other.”
McNulty woke up with a feeling of panic. At first he did not know where he was. The room was dark except for a night-light; the bed was lurching under him, and a deep tortured sound came from the walls.
He got up, stumbled to the light switch, and found his pants in the closet. In the corridor he met Hal Winter, his head still bandaged. “Dr. McNulty, what’s happening?”
“Don't know,” said McNulty. “Get me a chair, will you—I’m not sure I can walk.”
Winter brought a powered wheelchair and helped him into it. “Where are you going?”
“Control.”
“I’m coming with you.”
In the anteroom they found two deputies, Ferguson and Davis, Walter Taggart, the head of engineering, several security guards, and a swarm of other people. Ben Higpen, Yetta Bernstein, and Captain Hartman entered a few moments later.
Ferguson was talking on a telephone. After a moment he put it down and turned to McNulty. “He won’t listen,” he said.
“Who?”
“The Chief. He’s in there with the door locked.”
“Let me talk to him.”
Ferguson got up and moved his chair to make room. “Just press the button—I’ve got the speaker on.”
McNulty rolled his wheelchair up. “Chief, this is McNulty. Mind telling me what you’re up to?”
“I’m sorry about this, Doctor,” said a voice, “but there’s no other way to do it. If we keep on, they’ll float us, or disable us, and take the passengers off. We haven’t a prayer of getting rid of that thing: you know it and I know it. The only way is to take it to the bottom with us. I’m really sorry. Please tell the others not to try to break in; I’m armed, and I’ll shoot if they do.”
At Ferguson’s gesture, McNulty turned off the phone. The deputy said, “Mr. Taggart, can you get down into the controls and cut them?”
“Not in time to do any good. I’d say force the door and take our chances. He may be bluffing about the gun.”
“What if he isn’t? Suppose he fires a couple of shots into the control panel?” Ferguson turned on the phone again. “Chief, we’d appreciate a chance to talk about this. Will you open the door, please?”
“Not likely. You know I’m right, all of you.”
McNulty put his head in his hands. “He is right,” he muttered. Watery images were going through his head: the cold, and the Fish lips nuzzling against his dead face. . . .
Suddenly he sat up. “Oh, God,” he said. “The fish!”
“Take it easy, Doctor,” said Ferguson, and put a hand on his shoulder.
“No, no, you don’t understand— Let me talk to him.” He grabbed the phone and said, “Mr. Bliss, there’s something you don’t know.”
“There’s a great deal I don’t know, but I expect I’ll find out shortly.”
McNulty kept talking. “You remember, after Randy Geller collapsed, there was a three-hour period before the next person felt faint?”
There was a pause. “No, I don’t recall. What about it?”
“He was found beside an aquarium in the marine lab. The fish, don’t you understand—the fish!”
There was a silence. “Are you suggesting—?”
“That’s where it spent those three hours, it’s got to be. It doesn’t have to live in human beings. If you sink us, you won’t be killing the thing, you’ll be letting it loose.”
After a long pause Bliss’s voice said, “Descending to one hundred feet.”
Slowly the motion of the vessel steadied; the groaning died away. The door opened and Bliss emerged. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed. “Mr. Ferguson, take over,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” Ferguson passed him with a sympathetic look, as if he wanted to say more but could not find the words. The comm person followed him in.
Bliss sat down heavily and put his hands between his knees. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve made a mess of it. I knew I would.” He looked at McNulty. “We’re done for, aren’t we? There’s no way to get rid of the thing.”
McNulty felt that it was an intolerable effort to speak. "This man needs to lie down awhile, and so do I,” he said. He turned to the nearest face. “Will you call the annex and get somebody to give him a Dalmane?”
After that someone trundled him into the elevator and back down to the hospital bed, and in no time at all he was awake again. Janice was saying, “Doctor, how about a little breakfast?” The idea disgusted him, but he drank the orange juice, managed to get down a few spoonsful of oatmeal. Janice started to help him to the bathroom, but “I can walk,” he said gruffly, and he could.