The submarine began to rock violently. It was obvious that the squid was turning nasty, was trying to bend the submarine in two. For several seconds one of the squid’s arms showed in the porthole—a violet hose as fat as a telephone pole, studded with greedily waving suckers. Black hooks sticking out of the suckers kicked against the spectrolite.
“What a beauty,” Belov cooed. “Listen, Kondratev, can’t we surface with it?”
Kondratev threw back his head and, narrowing his eyes, looked up at Belov. “Surface?” he said. “Maybe. He won’t unlatch from us now. How much did you say he could weigh?”
“About seventy metric tons,” Belov said uncertainly.
Kondratev whistled and once again turned to the board.
“But that’s in air,” Belov added hurriedly. “In water—”
“Still no less than ten tons,” said Kondratev. “We couldn’t make it. Get ready—we’re going to rotate.”
Akiko hurriedly squatted down, without taking her eyes from the porthole. She was afraid of missing something interesting.
If it weren’t for the trainees, Kondratev thought, I would have finished with this vermin long ago, and would be looking for its relatives. He did not doubt that somewhere on the bottom of the depression were hiding the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren of the monster—potential, and perhaps already actual, pirates on the whale migration lanes.
The submarine rotated into horizontal position.
“It’s stuffy,” muttered Belov.
“Hang on tighter,” said Kondratev. “Ready? Here we go!” He turned the speed handle as far as it would turn. Full speed, thirty knots. The turbines howled piercingly. Behind, something banged, and they heard a muffled yelp. Poor Belov, thought Kondratev. He dropped the speed and swung the helm about. The submarine went around in a semicircle and again pointed toward the squid.
“Now look,” said Kondratev,
The squid hung twenty yards in front of the submarine’s bow—pale, strangely flat, with drooping, writhing tentacles and a drooping body. It looked like a spider burned by a match. Its eyes were squinting thoughtfully off below and to one side, as if it were mulling something over. Kondratev had never seen a live squid so close, and he examined it with curiosity and loathing. It really was an unusually large specimen. Perhaps one of the largest in the world. But at that moment nothing about it gave the impression of a powerful and fearsome predator. For some reason Kondratev recalled the bundles of softened whale intestines in the enormous steeping vats of the whale-butchering complex in Petropavlovsk.
Several minutes went by. Belov lay with his stomach pressing on Kondratev’s shoulders, and aimed the whirring movie camera. Akiko muttered something into the dictaphone in Japanese without taking her eyes off the squid. Kondratev’s neck started to ache, and furthermore he was afraid that the squid would regain consciousness and would clear out, or else would throw itself on the submarine again, and then they would have to start over from the beginning.
“Aren’t you about done yet?” inquired Kondratev.
“And how!” Belov answered strongly but irrelevantly.
The squid came to. A rippling shudder went through its arms.
The enormous eyes, the size of soccer balls, turned like hinges in sockets, and stared at the light from the searchlights. Then the arms stretched out ramrod straight, and contracted again, and the pale violet skin filled with dark color. The squid was scalded, stunned, but it was preparing for another pounce. No, the giant squid was not leaving. It was not even considering leaving.
“Well?” Kondratev asked impatiently.
“Okay,” Belov said with dissatisfaction. “You can do it.”
“Get off of me,” said Kondratev.
Belov got off and rested his chin on Kondratev’s right shoulder. He had obviously forgotten about depth sickness. Kondratev glanced at the screen, then laid a linger on the release lever. “Too close,” he muttered. “Oh, well. Fire one!” The submarine shuddered. “Fire two!” The submarine shuddered again. The squid was slowly opening its arms when the two pyroxilyn torpedoes exploded one after the other below its eyes. Two dull flashes and two enormous peals of thunder: boo-oom, boo-oom. A black cloud obscured the squid and then the submarine was thrown on its stern; it turned over on its port side and began to dance about in place.
When the agitation had ceased, the searchlight illuminated a gray-brown heaving mass from which spinning, formless, billowing shreds tumbled into the abyss. Some were still twisting and twitching in the beams of light, rushing into the yellow-green thickness of dusty twilight. Then they disappeared into the dark. On the sonar screen, one after another, four, five, seven blips had already appeared-unhurried, biding their time.
“Sharks,” said Kondratev. “There they are.”
“Sharks are nasty customers,” Belov said hoarsely. “But this squid… It’s a shame—such a specimen! You’re a barbarian, Kondratev. What if it was intelligent?”
Kondratev remained silent and turned on the light. Akiko was sitting hunched up to the wall, with her head tilted over on her shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her mouth half-open. Her forehead, cheeks, neck, and bare arms and legs gleamed with sweat. The dictaphone lay under her feet. Kondratev picked it up. Akiko opened her eyes and smiled with embarrassment.
“We’ll start back now,” Kondratev said. He thought, Tomorrow night I’ll dive down here and finish off the rest.
“It’s very stuffy, Comrade Captain,” said Akiko.
“You said it!” Kondratev replied angrily. “Cognac and perfume and…”
Akiko lowered her head,
“Well, never mind,” said Kondratev. “We’ll come back tomorrow. Belov!”
Belov did not answer. Kondratev turned around and saw that Belov had raised his arms and was groping at the hatch fastener. “What are you doing, Belov?” Kondratev asked calmly.
Belov turned his gray face toward him and said, “It’s stuffy in here. We have to open up.”
Kondratev punched him in the chest and he fell over backwards, his Adam’s apple thrust out sharply. Kondratev hurriedly opened up the oxygen valve, then got up, and, stepping over Belov, inspected the fastener. It was all right. Then Kondratev poked Belov under a rib with a finger. Akiko watched him with tear-filled eyes,
“Comrade Belov?” she asked.
“Roast duck,” Kondratev said angrily. “And depth sickness to boot.”
Belov sighed and sat up. His eyes were bleary, and he squinted at Kondratev and Akiko and asked, “What happened, people?”
“You practically drowned us, glutton,” said Kondratev.
He lifted the nose of the submarine toward the vertical and began to ascend. The Kunashir must already have arrived at the rendezvous point. It was becoming impossible to breathe in the cabin. Oh, well-it would all soon be over. When the light was on in the cabin, the bathymeter needle looked pink, the numbers white. Six hundred meters, five hundred eighty, five fifty…
“Comrade Captain,” said Akiko, “permission to ask a question?”
“Granted.”
“Was it just luck that we found ika so quickly?”
“It found us. It must have been trailing us for ten kilometers, looking us over. Squids are always like that.”
“Kondratev,” moaned Belov, “can’t we go a little faster?”
“No,” said Kondratev. “Be patient.”