Barnes said quietly to the group, "A few minutes ago, we got a signal. From outside. Something very large."
Finally Tina said, "I'm not getting it now, sir." "Go passive."
"Aye aye, sir. Going passive."
The pinging sonar stopped. In its place they heard a slight hiss. Tina adjusted the speaker volume.
"Hydrophones?" Harry said quietly.
Barnes nodded. "Polar glass transducers. Best in the world."
They all strained to listen, but heard nothing except the undifferentiated hiss. To Norman it sounded like tape noise, with an occasional gurgle of the water. If he wasn't so tense, he would have found the sound irritating.
Barnes said, "Bastard's clever. He's managed to blind us, cover all our ports with goo."
"Not goo," Beth said. "Eggs."
"Well, they're covering every damn port in the habitat." The hissing continued, unchanging. Tina twisted the hydrophone dials. There was a soft continuous crackling, like cellophane being crumpled.
"What's that?" Ted said.
Beth said, "Fish. Eating."
Barnes nodded. Tina twisted the dials. "Tuning it out." They again heard the undifferentiated hiss. The tension in the room lessened. Norman felt tired and sat down. Harry sat next to him. Norman noticed that Harry looked more thoughtful than concerned. Across the room, Ted stood near the hatch door and bit his lip. He looked like a frightened kid.
There was a soft electronic beep. Lines on the gas-plasma screens jumped.
Tina said, "I have a positive on peripheral thermals."
Barnes nodded: "Direction?"
"East. Coming."
They heard a metallic clank! Then another clank!
"What's that?"
"The grid. He's hitting the grid."
"Hitting it? Sounds like he's dismantling it."
Norman remembered the grid. It was made of three-inch pipe.
"A big fish? A shark?" Beth said.
Barnes shook his head. "He's not moving like a shark. And he's too big."
Tina said, "Positive thermals on in-line perimeter. He's still coming."
Barnes said, "Go active."
The pong! of the sonar echoed in the room.
Tina said, "Target acquired. One hundred yards."
"Image him."
"FAS on, sir."
There was a rapid succession of sonar sounds: pong! pong! pong! pong! Then a pause, and it came again: pong! pong! pong! pong!
Norman looked puzzled. Fletcher leaned over and whispered, "False-aperture sonar makes a detailed picture from several senders outside, gives you a good look at him." He smelled liquor on her breath. He thought: Where'd she get liquor?
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
"Building image. Ninety yards."
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
"Image up."
They turned to the screens. Norman saw an amorphous, streaky blob. It didn't mean much to him.
"Jesus," Barnes said. "Look at the size of him!"
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
"Eighty yards."
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
Another image appeared. Now the blob was a different shape, the streaks in another direction. The image was sharper at the edges, but it still meant nothing to Norman. A big blob with streaks ...
"Jesus! He's got to be thirty, forty feet across!" Barnes said. "No fish in the world is that big," Beth said.
"Whale?"
"It's not a whale."
Norman saw that Harry was sweating. Harry took off his glasses and wiped them on his jumpsuit. Then he put them back on, and pushed them up on the bridge of his nose. They slipped back down. He glanced at Norman and shrugged.
Tina: "Fifty yards and closing."
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
"Thirty yards."
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
"Thirty yards."
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
"Holding at thirty yards, sir."
Pong! pong! pong! pong!
"Still holding."
"Active off."
Once again, they heard the hiss of the hydrophones. Then a distinct clicking sound. Norman's eyes burned. Sweat had rolled into his eyes. He wiped his forehead with his jumpsuit sleeve. The others were sweating, too. The tension was unbearable. He glanced at the video monitor again. The sphere was still closed.
He heard the hiss of the hydrophones. A soft scraping sound, like a heavy sack being dragged across a wooden floor. Then the hiss again.
Tina whispered, "Want to image him again?"
"No," Barnes said.
They listened. More scraping. A moment of silence, followed by the gurgle of water, very loud, very close.
"Jesus," Barnes whispered. "He's right outside."
A dull thump against the side of the habitat.
The screen flashed on.
I AM HERE.
The first impact came suddenly, knocking them off their feet. They tumbled, rolling on the floor. All around them, the habitat creaked and groaned, the sounds frighteningly loud. Norman scrambled to his feet - he saw Fletcher bleeding from her forehead - and the second impact hit. Norman was thrown sideways against the bulkhead. There was a metallic clang as his head struck metal, a sharp pain, and then Barnes landed on top of him, grunting and cursing. Barnes pushed his hand in Norman's face as he struggled to his feet; Norman slid back to the floor and a video monitor crashed alongside him, spitting sparks.
By now the habitat was swaying like a building in an earthquake. They clutched consoles, panels, doorways to keep their balance. But it was the noise that Norman found most frightening - the incredibly loud metallic groans and cracks as the cylinders were shaken on their moorings.