Philosophical considerations faded from his mind as the boundary of his own sector came into view. He switched off all lights on the boat, trimmed it for quiet, slow running, and began a stealthy patrol of the booms. Gliding along in the green-scented darkness, with the stillness of the ocean all around, he almost immediately began to question the wisdom of what he was doing. During the day he had been certain he was right, but now his reasoning seemed at fault. Anybody who wanted to make trouble for him, and was prepared to sail out this far at night to do it, could have made much better use of his time by slashing a few booms. The unlinking of two sections was a comparatively minor annoyance, more on the level of an adolescent prank, and one simply did not find mischievous juveniles roaming the ocean in the darkness.
As Tarrant continued his slow progress to the north he recalled what Will Somerville had said about dolphins, and the idea that they were responsible began to seem increasingly reasonable. Dolphins were very intelligent, possessed of a strong sense of curiosity, and they were notorious for having a misplaced sense of fun. Tarrant had never heard of them interfering with farm equipment before, but it occurred to him that he ought to have spent that day wiring his boom connectors in such a way that they could be opened only with cutters. He gnawed his lower lip for a moment then decided that, as he had come out so far, he might as well make one circuit of the sector before heading back to the shore.
Now feeling slightly self-conscious, Tarrant increased the boat’s speed a little and began estimating how long it would take him to return home. He had told Beth he would not be calling on her that night, but—provided he did not arrive too late—her mother might allow him to have coffee with the family. The extra visit would help establish his credentials as a suitor and bring closer the time when Beth and he would be allowed unchaperoned meetings. He allowed his thoughts to dwell on the heady prospect of some day being alone with Beth, eventually in the secure privacy of a bedroom…. All at once, his furtive night patrol seemed totally ridiculous. He was close to the northern edge of his sector and, seeing the open water ahead, he stepped up the boat’s speed again and swung in a wide curve to the east. His hand was moving towards the switch of the navigation lights when he detected a curious movement a short distance along the northern boom.
The glowball on the fifth connector was bobbing up and down in a way that had nothing to do with the action of the waves. And as he focussed his gaze on the dim light he saw it being momentarily blotted out, as if a body had passed in front of it.
Tarrant immediately cut his motor and let the boat continue its gradual turn on momentum only. He picked up the rifle, turned his spotlight towards the clandestine activity, and waited for the boat’s residual energy to bring him close to the boom. During this silent approach he heard a harsh chirping, unlike any human or animal sound he knew, which came from the direction of the connector. He flexed his neck muscles, trying to dispel a growing sense of unease, and waited until the boat had described a semicircle and was nuzzling against the boom on the opposite side of the disturbance. When it was at rest, giving him a fairly reliable platform, he switched on the big light.
He got an instantaneous vision of three masses of brownish tentacles sprawled over the inflation tubes of the boom. In the centre of each mass a yellowish, plate-sized eye rolled frantically for a moment, then steadied in his direction.
Tarrant was unable to repress a tremulous sigh of fear. He was not a man of the sea, had no affinity with its inhabitants, and to him the creatures in the spotlight’s beam were embodiments of pure dread.
Long seconds dragged by before his mind recovered from the numbing impact and allowed him to make some assessment of what he saw. The creatures were large, far more massive than a man, and his first impression was that they had to be octopuses—then he noticed the rigid, conical bodies sloping down into the water. He knew this to be characteristic of the common squid, but he had never heard of them growing to such frightening size.
So great was Tarrant’s revulsion that he felt it had to be mutual, that the creatures were therefore bound either to attack or flee. Instead—after a sombre, speculative stare—they turned their eyes away from him and their tentacles writhed over the boom connectors, almost as if they were deliberately trying to slip the plastic pins. The combined weight of their bodies flattened the boom tubes and allowed the enriched algae soup to spill into the outer water. Apparently this activity had been going on for some time because the surface was stained green for as far as Tarrant could see. The water itself was strangely agitated, and a closer look showed him that the area was alive with fish attracted by the rich planktonic food which had been poured into it.
While Tarrant watched, two thick tentacles broke through the surface and sank out of sight again, and he knew there were other squid down below, feeding on the fish. The discovery increased his alarm, because it suggested that the monsters were intelligent. They appeared to be acting in concert—some of them spilling bait into the water, while others fed.
Tarrant swore silently and raised the rifle to his shoulder. The light was not good for shooting, but the range was only a few metres and he knew he was not going to miss.
He aimed at the nearest of the three creatures on the boom and squeezed the trigger. The rifle punched back into his shoulder and in the same instant the squid’s huge eye exploded. The creature gave a shrill cry, its tentacles straightened out, quivering, and the glistening brown body slipped down into the water. Both the remaining squid froze into immobility, draped across the boom, their eyes fixed on him with a kind of mournful expectancy. Tarrant, who had anticipated that they would vanish with his first shot, lined up on the nearest and fired again. It fountained black fluid, but remained in place, seemingly defying him to do his worst.
Appalled by this new evidence of the creatures’ alienness, he aimed more carefully at the eye which regarded him from the base of the clustered tentacles. He was tightening his finger on the trigger when there was a raucous, bird-like chirp from somewhere to his right and both squid dropped down into the water. Greenish whorls of algae marked the points where they had disappeared.
Tarrant swung the spotlight around, splashing light over the general area from which the sound had come, but there was nothing to be seen except for the patterns of ripples caused by the feeding fish. He remained still for a moment, then decided to go closer to the boom connector and see if he could find the body of the squid he thought he had fatally injured. People on shore were not going to believe his story unless he had evidence to back it up. He moved the speed control forward a little and the boat began to edge forward, but it felt strangely heavy. Concerned at the idea of being stranded in such circumstances, Tarrant switched on all his lights and inspected the various meters on the control panel. Everything in the power system appeared to be in perfect working order, and yet the boat was sluggish. The next step was to see if anything was fouling the propeller.
Switching off the power, he hung the rifle up by its strap and turned away from the controls to go aft. He had taken one pace when the deck tilted away beneath him and he fell to the side of the boat. A second later the craft rocked in the other direction and he had to catch a stanchion to avoid sliding towards the opposite bulwark. At once the deck rotated again, more violently, until the gunwale beside Tarrant was almost under water; then the swing was reversed. It was obvious to him that the boat was going to capsize unless he did something to prevent the wild oscillations, but as yet he had no clear idea of what was causing them.