Demerest scarcely heard him. Ocean-Deep could be seen now. Javan had turned on the floodlights and far below was the muddy floor of the Puerto Rican Trench. Resting on that floor like a cluster of equally muddy pearls was the spherical conglomerate of Ocean-Deep.
Each unit was a sphere such as the one in which Demerest was now sinking toward contact, but much larger, and as Ocean-Deep expanded-expanded-expanded, new spheres were added.
Demerest thought: They're only five and a half miles from home, not a quarter of a million.
"How are we going to get through?" asked Demerest.
The 'scaphe had made contact. Demerest heard the dull sound of metal against metal but then for minutes there had been nothing more than a kind of occasional scrape as Javan bent over his instruments in rapt concentration.
"Don't worry about that," Javan said at last, in belated answer. "There's no problem. The delay now is only because I have to make sure we fit tightly. There's an electromagnet joint that holds at every point of a perfect circle. When the instruments read correctly, that means we fit over the entrance door."
"Which then opens?"
"It would if there were air on the other side, but there isn't. There's sea water, and that has to be driven out. Then we enter."
Demerest did not miss this point. He had come here on this, the last day of his life, to give that same life meaning and he intended to miss nothing.
He said, "Why the added step? Why not keep the air lock, if that's what it is, a real air lock, and have air in it at an times?"
"They tell me it's a matter of safety," said Javan. "Your specialty. The interface has equal pressure on both sides at all times, except when men are moving across. This door is the weakest point of the whole system, because it opens and closes; it has joints; it has seams. You know what I mean?"
"I do," murmured Demerest. There was a logical flaw here and that meant there was a possible chink through which-but later.
He said, "Why are we waiting now?"
"The lock is being emptied. The water is being forced out."
"By air."
"Hell, no. They can't afford to waste air like that. It would take a thousand atmospheres to empty the chamber of its water, and filling the chamber with air at that density, even temporarily, is more air than they can afford to expend. Steam is what does it."
"Of course. Yes."
Javan said cheerfully, "You heat the water. No pressure in the world can stop water from turning to steam at a temperature of more than 374° C. And the steam forces the sea water out through a one-way valve."
"Another weak point," said Demerest. "I suppose so. It's never failed yet. The water in the lock is being pushed out now. When hot steam starts bubbling out the valve, the process automatically stops and the lock is fun of overheated steam."
"And then?"
"And then we have a whole ocean to cool it with. The temperature drops and the steam condenses. Once that happens, ordinary air can be let in at a pressure of one atmosphere and then the door opens."
"How long must we wait?"
"Not long. If there were anything wrong, there'd be sirens sounding. At least, so they say. I never heard one in action."
There was silence for a few minutes, and then there was a sudden sharp clap and a simultaneous jerk.
Javan said, "Sorry, I should have warned you. I'm so used to it I forgot. When the door opens, a thousand atmospheres of pressure on the other side forces us hard against the metal of Ocean-Deep. No electromagnetic force can hold us hard enough to prevent that last hundredth-of-an-inch slam."
Demerest unclenched his fist and released his breath. He said, "Is everything all right?"
"The walls didn't crack, if that's what you mean. It sounds like doom, though, doesn't it? It sounds even worse when I've got to leave and the air lock fills up again. Be prepared for that."
But Demerest was suddenly weary. Let's get on with it, he thought. I don't want to drag it out. He said, "Do we go through now?"
"We go through."
The opening in the 'scaphe wall was round and small; even smaller than the one through which they had originally entered. Javan went through it sinuously, muttering that it always made him feel like a cork in a bottle.
Demerest had not smiled since he entered the 'scaphe. Nor did he really smile now, but a comer of his mouth quirked as he thought that a skinny Moon-man would have no trouble.
He went through also, feeling Javan's hands firmly at his waist, helping him through.
Javan said, "It's dark in here. No point in introducing an additional weakness by wiring for lighting. But that's why flashlights were invented."
Demerest found himself on a perforated walk, its stainless metallic surface gleaming dully. And through the perforations he could make out the wavering surface of water.
He said, "The chamber hasn't been emptied."
"You can't do any better, Mr. Demerest. If you're going to use steam to empty it, you're left with that steam, and to get the pressures necessary to do the emptying that steam must be compressed to a~ut one-third the density of liquid water. When it condenses, the chamber remains one-third full of water-but it's water at just one-atmosphere pressure… Come on, Mr. Demerest."
John Bergen's face wasn't entirely unknown to Demerest. Recognition was immediate. Bergen, as head of Ocean-Deep for nearly a decade now, was a familiar face on the TV screens of Earth-just as the leaders of Luna City had become familiar.
Demerest had seen the head of Ocean-Deep both flat and in three dimensions, in black-and-white and in color. Seeing him in life added little.
Like Javan, Bergen was short and thickset; opposite in structure to the traditional (already traditional?) Lunar pattern of physiology. He was fairer than Javan by a good deal and his face was noticeably asymmetrical, with his somewhat thick nose leaning just a little to the right.
He was not handsome. No Moon-man would think he was, but then Bergen smiled and there was a sunniness about it as he held out his large hand.
Demerest placed his own thin one within, steeling himself for a hard grip, but it did not come. Bergen took the hand and let it go, then said, "I'm glad you're here. We don't have much in the way of luxury, nothing that will make our hospitality stand out, we can't even declare a holiday in your honor-but the spirit is there. Welcome!"
"Thank you," said Demerest softly. He remained unsmiling now, too. He was facing the enemy and he knew it. Surely Bergen must know it also and, since he did, that smile of his was hypocrisy.
And at that moment a clang like metal against metal sounded deafeningly and the chamber shuddered. Demerest leaped back and staggered against the wall.
Bergen did not budge. He said quietly, "That was the bathyscaphe unhitching and the waterclap of the air lock filling. Javan ought to have warned you."
Demerest panted and tried to make his racing heart slow. He said, "Javan did warn me. I was caught by surprise anyway."
Bergen said, "Well, it won't happen again for a while. We don't often have visitors, you know. We're not equipped for it and so we fight off all kinds of big wheels who think a trip down here would be good for their careers. Politicians of all kinds, chiefly. Your own case is different of course."
Is it? thought Demerest. It had been hard enough to get permission to make the trip down. His superiors back at Luna City had not approved in the first place and had scouted the idea that a diplomatic interchange would be of any use. ("Diplomatic interchange" was what they had called it.) And when he had overborne them, there had been Ocean-Deep's own reluctance to receive him.