PART 3 Terrors

Chapter No. 23 Tongues of Serpents

Captain Stubens purposely delayed until dark before moving the Sea Nautilus into the main receiving bay of the Institute. The sting of paranoia still tormented him, and he was not about to make a third mistake.

Carl began the process of putting the reactor into stand-by mode, a requirement of both the Institute and the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Running on battery power, the large vessel slowly glided through an underwater gate into the docking port, came to a full stop, and then began to surface.

Dr. Anderson watched the submersible grow from the sea accompanied by sounds of hissing water spewing from ballast tanks. He fought apprehension, a feeling that too often was a part of his job. He hated not knowing the consequences of finding some controversial new species of marine life, not even knowing what it was. The apprehension settled into his gut, churning the contents around in a very uncomfortable manner.

It didn't dampen his enthusiasm.

"Welcome home," he shouted when the first crewman emerged from the main deck hatch. He shook hands with everyone. Most of the scientists smiled; Stevens was a notable exception.

As soon as he spotted Eric, Anderson ran to him. "Talliman has the tank prepared as you instructed."

"Good. Margaret's waiting to escort them through the receiving tunnel."

"As soon as everything is squared away I want to have a meeting."

Eric nodded. "Margaret will probably want to calm them down." He paused before he made his next request. "My wife and I would like to stay here at the Institute so that we can be near them."

"No problem. They're your exclusive responsibility."

"I'd like to include Dr. Stevens in that responsibility," Eric said just as George walked up to join him.

Anderson stood back, his mouth agape, his eyes wide, hesitating before he spoke. "Why Eric, I thought that you and George were adversaries. Are you trying to tell me that you're cooperating now?"

"The entire Institute will have to be involved in this project. Dr. Stevens is a top marine mammal biologist. We'll need his and all the expertise that we can muster to study these creatures."

"I'm afraid that Hauptman's right," Stevens said, strolling up to the two men. "We're dealing with a highly intelligent creature here, perhaps one that is on the same level as Homo sapiens. We're not going to find the task of understanding them to be a cake walk."

Anderson looked dumbfounded. "I see." He turned away for a few seconds. "I'm afraid that this is going to be a bigger problem than I first realized." Then he walked away talking to himself.

Eric turned to George. "I guess the job of administrator is tougher than we thought."

Stevens cracked a rare honest smile. "I think that Wang was right; he's lost his scientific principles."

"Come on, George. Someone has to keep us science-types under control."

"Right, Hauptman. By the time the bureaucrats and the accountants get through with this, we'll be lucky to have any real science left over."

"I'm afraid you're right, George. But keep in mind that this discovery is bigger than we are. Hell, it's bigger than the Institute. When my wife and I were in that cavern, we saw things that I have problems believing. We saw evidence that this species has a written language."

"If I hadn't seen these creatures close up, I would not believe you. It doesn't make any sense. How could a sentient species have lived on this planet and escaped detection."

Eric grinned. "You're right, George. I wouldn't have believed me either."

###

Over two thousand miles away in a small smoke-filled room deep within a large concrete building, three men are discussing a mutual problem. One of these men, a jowly brute with a completely baldhead, puffs on a large Upman, blowing smoke out in near perfect rings.

"Dr. Stram," he said in a deep, gravely voice. "You have been unsuccessful in obtaining one of the creatures. You and Stanton came away from this latest attempt empty handed."

Stram's face reddened. "Stanton is a cretin. All military types are cretins."

"Colonel Stanton is an accomplished operative," the cigar puffing man said. "He may have had some bad luck, but he will succeed. You can be assured of that."

"We're running out of time," Stram said. "The Institute has the finest marine specialists in the world. They will quickly learn the truth about these creatures. There's also the possibility that they will announce their findings."

The third man, a tall, thin man with a cadaverous face and harsh features, folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. "I must remind you that the SVR is aware of our activities. We have information that they're sending vessels to the Galapagos region."

"What makes you think that the Russians will be more successful than we have?" the first man asked him.

"They have an advanced capability in deep-sea research. Dr. Movosich is one of their best marine biologists."

"Movosich is an idiot," Stram said, squinting his eyes. "He has no idea what he's dealing with. These creatures are capable of breathing under water. They can dive to depths of over seven hundred meters, and they can move faster than any diver. Even more important: they have cognitive brains. They're impossible to catch."

"Then, Doctor," the tall man, said, "how did scientists from the Institute capture them?"

Stram's facial muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed. "I doubt that they captured them."

"How did they acquire them?"

Stram looked away for several seconds before he answered. "The only way that they were able to acquire one of these creatures is if it came to them on its own volition."

"Why would it do that?"

"I don't know. But I will find out . . . eventually."

The stout man grinned. "I'm sure you will, Doctor. I'm sure you will." His expression turned sour. "But, I remind you that we will not tolerate failure. These creatures are of strategic importance. I trust that you appreciate our position."

Dr. Stram nodded in acquiescence, but his face reflected deep frustration.

And anger.

###

Margaret cleared her mask by dipping it into water, rubbing it with her hand, and then blowing the water out with air from her regulator. She inserted her mouthpiece, did a back flip into the water, dove down to the receiving hatch, and waited.

The creatures soon made their appearance, but they stopped several meters away. She entered the tunnel that connected the submarine bay to the main dolphin tank and swam slowly, turning frequently to make sure that she was being followed.

The creatures propel themselves much like dolphins by wagging their flukes and undulating their bodies. There's a notable exception in their propulsion scheme: dolphins don't have arms; pectoral fins having substituted for the useless appendages in the dim evolutionary past. Most of the time these creatures keep their arms tight against their bodies, only using their webbed hands to make sharp turns.

The receiving tunnel is illuminated by blue fluorescent lamps that cast dark purple shadows against smooth metallic walls. The creatures appear as specters in the dim light, mysterious forms that move with graceful and erotic motions. They follow their human host at a distance.

The transition between the receiving tunnel and the main dolphin tank is traumatic. The diffuse light of quartz lamps high above the tank cast dim star patterns in the clear water. The creatures hesitate at this transition, as if not sure that they want to enter their new home.

Margaret was not sure that they would. If they were as intelligent as humans, they would easily discerna trap and elect not to submit to captivity.

As in the case of dolphins and whales, these creatures' clicks and whistles are audible underwater.

Are they having a discussion, perhaps taking a vote?

The three creatures entered the tank and paid no attention to the fact that the exit hatch from the tunnel closed, preventing their escape. They followed the human female to the rocks recently added to the tank at the south end. The human climbed up on one of the large rocks and removed her mask. Three alien heads surfaced near her. Their eyes stared at her with unflinching alertness.

She looked over at her husband, who was standing by a railing near the rocks, and waved. The alien heads turned briefly to note Eric's presence but then riveted their eyes on her.

"How are they, Love?" Eric asked, raising his voice to carry the distance.

"Ok, I guess. They look like they're waiting for something."

"Why don't you show them some affection? Think of them as dolphins."

She looked at her husband and then at the creatures. After several seconds of indecision, she reached out to touch one of the adults. The creature tilted its head to avoid the human's touch, its eyes shifting to follow the movement of the human's hand. Margaret pulled her hand back, but after several seconds made another attempt. This time the creature didn't flinch. Her hand made contact with the top of its head, and, as if the result of a natural instinct, she rubbed her hand gently down its hair in a caressing motion. She soon felt a reaction that began as a vibration and quickly escalated to what sounded like a cat's purring. She did the same for the other adult with similar affect. The juvenile kept its distance.

The second adult tilted its head to cause Margaret's hand to rub over its face, closing its eyes and emitting louder purring sounds. How pleasing the sensation felt. The creature seemed to enjoy her touch and she was deriving an equal enjoyment from the contact.

The adult opened its mouth to reveal its sharp teeth, snow-white instruments capable of causing horrendous damage to living flesh. The creature's sharp peaked tongue snaked out quickly to make contact with her hand. At first, the tip of the tongue gently licked the back of her hand, but soon it did something that startled her. The tongue moved around her wrist, quickly circling it like a constrictor. The creature began pulling the human's encircled wrist nearer.

A prehensile tongue! I've never seen anything like it before. Is this how they trap and eat small prey?

When the creature enveloped her wrist with its mouth, Margaret flinched. The expected bite never happened. It was as if the creature was trying to French kiss her hand, a sensation that startled her. After a time, the creature pulled its tongue from her wrist like a constrictor uncoiling from a dead prey.

The other adult soon joined in the playing. Its tongue darted out to make contact with her hand.

That's strange. This one's tongue isn't as sharp. In fact, it's blunt. Why such an insignificant difference between specimens that appear identical?

The blunt end moved to the tip of her index finger and before she could react, the tongue enveloped her finger and then began to ride up and down her finger with a cyclic rhythm.

How fascinating! Is this the manner in which they consume small aquatic worms?

The juvenile watched all of this, its tongue flicking in and out of its mouth, its tail wagging. But the little one did not approach.

Why?

Perhaps it was warned by the two adults to stay away. She wanted desperately to examine the baby but she had no intentions of upsetting her rapport with the two adults.

Margaret pulled her hand away and patted the heads of both adults. She smiled and then jumped into the water and swam over to her husband. The creatures followed her, but they kept their distance.

"It seems that you've made some new friends," he said.

"I may have to spend the night with them," she said in a joking manner before she crawled out of the tank and joined her husband at the railing.

"They'll be fine, Love. You can study them all you want tomorrow."

She and her husband walked back to their new apartment near the tank. Eric couldn't resist waving to the creatures, still waiting in the water. His wife repeated her husband's gesture

"They're very strange."

"What's that, Love?"

"They have prehensile tongues. That's very odd."

He put his arm around her. "Everything about these creatures is odd."

"But, I've never seen anything quite like it. Some reptiles and amphibians have extensile tongues, but none of them can wrap their tongues around an object and pull it. That's very strange."

"I agree, Love. They're very strange. But, what did you expect. These creatures are beyond our knowledge."

She looked at him with eyes that expressed both affirmation and confusion. Then she looked back at three heads staring at her from the water and sighed. Leaving them at a time when there was so much to learn--the first contact--was difficult. But, her husband was right. They needed time to adjust to their new home, and she needed the rest.