Bigman didn't hear. He was saying jubilantly, "Terrific, Lucky. That was terrific the way you bluffed him into talking."
"I wasn't bluffing, Bigman," said Lucky, grimly. "I know the key fact involved in this whole mess. So would you, if you stopped to think about it."
Bigman said shakily, "What are you getting at?"
"Do you remember when Dr. Morriss and you and I entered the small room to wait for Lou Evans to be brought to us? Do you remember the first thing that happened?"
"No."
"You started laughing. You said I looked queer and deformed without a mustache. And I felt exactly the same way about you. I said so. Remember?"
"Oh, sure. I remember."
"Did it occur to you to wonder why that was? We'd been watching men with mustaches for hours. Why was it that the thought suddenly occurred to both of us at that particular time?"
"I don't know." "Suppose the thought had occurred to someone else who had telepathic powers. Suppose the sensation of surprise flooded from his mind to ours."
"You mean the mentalist, or one of them, was in the room with us?"
"Wouldn't that explain it?"
"But it's impossible. Dr. Morriss was the only other man…Lucky! You don't mean Dr. Morriss!"
"Morriss had been staring at us for hours. Why should he be suddenly amazed at our not having mustaches?"
"Well, then, was someone hiding?"
"Not hiding," said Lucky. "There was one other living creature in the room, and it was in plain view."
"No," cried Bigman. "Oh, no." He burst into laughter. "Sands of Mars, you can't mean the V-frog?"
"Why not?" said Lucky calmly. "We're probably the first men without mustaches it ever saw. It was surprised."
"But it's impossible."
"Is it? They're all over the city. People collect them, feed them, love them. Now do they really love V-frogs? Or do the V-frogs inspire love by mental control so as to get themselves fed and taken care of?"
"Space, Lucky!" said Bigman. "There's nothing surprising about people liking them. They're cute. People don't have to be hypnotized into thinking that."
"Did you like them spontaneously, Bigman? Nothing made you?"
"I'm sure nothing made me like them. I just liked them."
"You just liked them? Two minutes after you saw your first V-frog, you fed it. Remember that?"
"Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
"Ah, but what did you feed it?"
"What it liked. Peas dipped in axle g…" The little
fellow's voice faded out.
"Exactly. That grease swelled like axle grease. There was no mistaking what it was. How did you come to dip the pea in it? Do you always feed axle grease to pet animals? Did you ever know any animal that ate axle grease?"
"Sands of Mars!" said Bigman weakly.
"Isn't it obvious that the V-frog wanted some, and that since you were handy it maneuvered you into delivering some-that you weren't quite your own master?"
Bigman muttered, "I never guessed. But it's so clear when you explain it. I feel terrible."
"Why?"
"It's a hateful thing, having an animal's thoughts rolling around inside your head. It seems unsanitary." His puckish little face screwed up in an expression of revulsion.
Lucky said, "Unfortunately, it's worse then unsanitary."
He turned back to the instruments.
The interval between pip and return disclosed the distance between the two ships to be less than half a mile when, with surprising suddenness, the radar screen showed, unmistakably, the shadow of Evans's ship.
Lucky's voice went out over the transmitter. "Evans, you're in sight now. Can you move? Is your ship disabled?"
The answer came back clearly in a voice torn with emotion. "Earth help me, Lucky, I did my best to warn you. You're trapped! Trapped as I'm trapped."
And as though to punctuate the councilman's wail, a blast of force struck the subship Hilda, knocking it to one side and jarring its main motors out of commission!
9. Out Of The Deep
In bigman's memory afterward, the events of the next hours were as though viewed through the reverse end of a telescope, a faraway nightmare of confused events.
Bigman had been slammed against the wall by the sudden thrust of force. For what seemed long moments, but was probably little more than a second in actuality, he lay spread-eagled and gasping.
Lucky, still at the controls, shouted, "The main generators are out."
Bigman was struggling to Ms feet against the crazy slope of the deck. "What happened?"
"We were hit. Obviously. But I don't know how badly."
Bigman said, "The lights are on."
"I know. The emergency generators have cut in."
"How about the main drive?"
"I'm not sure. It's what I'm trying to test."
The engines coughed hoarsely somewhere below and behind. The smooth purr was gone, and in its place a consumptive rattle sounded that set Bigman's teeth on edge.
The Hilda shook herself, like a hurt animal, and turned upright. The engines died again.
The radio receiver was echoing mournfully, and now Bigman gathered his senses sufficiently to try to reach it.
"Starr," it said. "Lucky Starr! Evans at this end. Acknowledge signals."
Lucky got there first. "Lucky speaking. What hit us?"
"It doesn't matter," came the tired voice. "It won't bother you any more. It will be satisfied to let you sit here and die. Why didn't you stay away? I asked you to."
"Is your ship disabled, Evans?"
"It's been stalled for twelve hours. No light, no power-just a little juice I can pump into the radio, and that's fading. Air purifiers are smashed, and the air supply is low. So long, Lucky."
"Can you get out?"
"The lock mechanism isn't working. I've got a subsea suit, but if I try to cut my way out, I'll be smashed."
Bigman knew what Lou Evans meant, and he shuddered. Locks on subsea vessels were designed to let water into the interlock chamber slowly, very slowly. To cut a lock open at the bottom of the sea in an attempt to get out of a ship would mean the entry of water under hundreds of tons of pressure. A human being, even inside a steel suit, would be crushed like an empty tin can under a pile driver.
Lucky said, "We can still navigate. I'm coming to get you. We'll join locks."
"Thanks, but why? If you move, you'll be hit again; and even if you aren't, what's the difference whether I die quickly here or a little more slowly in your ship?"
Lucky retorted angrily, "We'll die if we have to, but not one second earlier than we have to. Everyone has to die someday; there's no escaping that, but quitting isn't compulsory."
He turned to Bigman. "Get down into the engine room and check the damage. I want to know if it can be repaired."
In the engine room, fumbling with the "hot" micro-pile by means of long-distance manipulators, which luckily were still in order, Bigman could feel the ship inching painfully along the sea bottom and could hear the husky rasping of the motors. Once he heard a distant boom, followed by a groaning rattle through the framework of the Hilda as though a large projectile had hit sea bottom a hundred yards away.
He felt the ship stop, the motor noise drop to a hoarse rumble. In imagination, he could see the Hilda's lock extension bore out and close in on the other hull, welding itself tightly to it. He could sense the water between the ships being pumped out of that tube between them and, in actual fact, he saw the lights in the engine room dim as the energy drain on the emergency generators rose to dangerous heights. Lou Evans would be able to step from his ship to the Hilda through dry air with no need of artificial protection.
Bigman came up to the control room and found Lou Evans with Lucky. His face was drawn and worn under its blond stubble. He managed a shaky smile in Bigman's direction.
Lucky was saying, "Go on, Lou."