"All right, Earl," said Shem. "You're the boss. Where do we start?"

  If the ship still contained anything of value it would be in the control room. Dumarest kicked himself forward to join the others and stood looking at the crusted shape. The cargo holds were always towards the base of every ship he had known and it was logical to assume this one would follow the pattern. The control room would be towards the nose. He measured the proportions, baffled by the odd dimensions. Here? A little further back? More forward? There would be an emergency airlock which would give direct access if he could find it.

  "We've got to strip the crust," he said. "Start from about five yards back from the end. How will you do it?"

  "Smash it loose with hammers." Shem stooped over the heap of tools dropped down from the raft. "We should have powered equipment," he grumbled. "Heavy-duty lasers. It'll take a long time using muscle."

  Selkas was bringing more equipment from the city, but until he arrived muscles were all they had. Dumarest picked up a heavy hammer and swung it at the encrustation. The thing moved slowly, hampered by the water, the head landing with deceptive force. He swung again, then a third time and calcareous matter crumpled.

  Shem grunted. "It could be a lot worse. In more shallow water it would be yards thick. This shouldn't take too long." He picked up a hammer. "Keep a sharp watch, Larco."

  Larco patted his gun. "I'm watching, Shem."

  Dumarest's arms began to ache. It took tremendous effort to swing the heavy hammer through the crushing water and the coveralls and padding hampered every movement. He was relieved by Larco, relieving Shem in turn, chafing at their slow progress. The deposit had to be pounded loose and scraped free but eventually a cleared section of metal was exposed to the light.

  "Ten minutes and we head upwards," said Shem. "The tanks are getting low."

  "Just a minute." Dumarest was studying the cleared area. Fragments of paint clung to the surface and he tried to fit them into a recognizable pattern. Identifying marks? A guide for external forces to reach the emergency port in case of need? He cleared away more of the deposit and saw the rim of a port.

  "Come on, Earl." Larco drifted beside him. "It's a ship right enough," he mused. "Maybe we should try getting in from the inside. The hold's open, if it is a hold, and maybe—" He broke off as the ground heaved beneath their feet. "A quake!"

  It came again, and then a third time far more intense than before. Dumarest felt himself gripped by invisible forces and thrown high to one side, spinning, buffeted by shifting masses of water. The ship lifted, slowly, seemed to hesitate for a long moment and then fell back on the ledge. It slipped a little towards the edge of the chasm and then came to rest.

  From the depths something rose like a plume of smoke.

  It was an eel, attracted by the hammering, frightened by the sudden quake. The sinuous body was thirty feet long and spined like the edge of a saw. The barrel-sized head was crested, the gaping jaws lined with rows of gleaming teeth. It poised, watching the three men. Larco was the closest.

  "Shem! For God's sake!"

  A streak of fire spat towards the creature and missed, the dart exploding against the hull of the ship. Again Shem fired, this time managing to hit the end of the long body. It did nothing to slow the beast down. Like an arrow it sliced through the water, intent on its prey.

  "Shem!"

  Larco screamed as the jaws closed on his body, the teeth shearing through the padding and coverall. Blood rose like a mist.

  Dumarest twisted, fighting to gain control of his movements. He kicked himself towards the giant eel and raised the squat barrel of his gun. Sighting was difficult and the weapon strange. His first shot missed; the second tore a great hole in the flesh a third of the way from the head. The next followed it and almost cut the creature in half.

  Larco screamed again. "Shem!"

  Shem was aiming for the head. He swam close, his gun extended in both hands, his finger clamped on the trigger to empty the magazine in a burst of continuous fire. The screaming died as head and man dissolved into pulp.

  "Up!" His voice was harsh over the radio. "Up before the blood attracts more of the things." He was choking as they neared the surface. "Larco. Dear God, how shall I tell his wife?"

  * * *

  Izane lifted his hands in a protective gesture. "I didn't know. You've got to believe that. The quake disturbed my instruments. I didn't see anything to warn you about."

  "You bastard!" Shem stepped forward, his face ugly. "I've a mind to smash your face in. I told you to watch. I relied on you, we all did, and you let us down. Larco's dead. I killed him, you understand? I had to kill him. A friend and my partner and I had to kill him."

  Dumarest said, "You had no choice."

  "You think it was easy?"

  "I know it wasn't, but if you hadn't done it I would have."

  "You should have," said Shem. He looked suddenly old. "Then I wouldn't have had to live with it. You could have saved me from that."

  "And left you wondering if you lacked the guts?"

  Veruchia looked from one to the other, not understanding but aware they lived in a different world than the one she knew: men of action, facing danger, each relying on the other for help if it could be given, merciful death if it could not. And it had been Shem's right and duty to make the decision.

  She wondered if she could kill Dumarest if the need ever arose. She had no doubt that he could kill her.

  Such thoughts were depressing, casting a shadow over their success, adding to that already thrown by Larco's death. She moved to Izane's side and looked at the screen of his machine. It was alive with movement. Even as she watched a blotched shape came moving in from the deeps, a gross body wreathed with many arms. Narrow lines darted from its approach.

  She called to Shem. "Something's happening. Could you explain?"

  He grunted as he joined her. "A decapod and more of those damned eels. Trust the scent of blood to bring them on the run. I told you this part of the coast was dangerous."

  "But they won't stay there, will they?"

  "No," said Dumarest. "They'll leave when they find no food." He could sense and understand her anxiety. Now they had found the ship further delay was intolerable, but it could not be helped. To reassure her he said,

  "We've found the airlock. Once the area is clear we'll go down and burn it open."

  "We?" Shem scowled and shook his head. "Not me and I doubt if you'll find anyone else. If you want to go down there you'll have to go alone. I'm not following Larco."

  "Izane?"

  The technician frowned. "My men are not used to undersea work. And, to be frank, they would not be willing after what has happened. We could hire experienced divers, of course, but I doubt if we have the time."

  "We have time," said Veruchia. "There are still a few days left."

  "I wasn't talking of the contractual time," said Izane. "We are in an unstable region and on the edge of an intercontinental fault. There have been several minor tremors in the past few hours and there will be more. At least one far more severe. The ship is poised on the edge of an undersea cliff. Any serious disturbance will cause it to lose equilibrium and, if it does, it will fall into the chasm. I predict that such a shock will occur within a matter of hours."

  Dumarest took a deep breath, remembering how the ship had lifted, settled and slipped towards the edge. "Can you be certain?"

  "That the ship will fall? From what you have told me, yes."

  "That there will be a major shock within a few hours."

  "I am a geologist and have studied volcanic activity and earthquakes. The pattern is a classic one for regions like this. The only doubt is as to the exact time."

  Another gamble. Dumarest weighed the odds as he looked at the screen. The Ven brothers had a laser and they would arrive shortly. It wouldn't take long to burn open the outer door, then a little more time to get inside and search the control room. They could carry lights if it were dark, so nightfall would be no problem. But lights could attract the beasts from the deeps. If they did they could be used as a defensive weapon; eyes accustomed to darkness would be vulnerable to a brilliant shaft of light. And there were other measures which could be taken.

  "Get back to the village," he told Shem. "I want all the nets you can lay your hands on. The strongest you can find. Cable too. And floats. We'll rig a screen around the ship."

  "It won't work." The fisherman was emphatic. "You saw that eel. We haven't a net in the village that would hold it. And you'd still need me to set them in position. I'm sorry, Earl, but it can't be done. Given time and the right materials, maybe, but not as things are."

  Nets were out then. Dumarest looked thoughtfully at the screen. "You say blood attracts those creatures. How about taking the raft and moving out a little way? Catch a fish and use it for bait. Spill the blood of whatever comes after it. Could you do that?"

  "Sure. That's how we catch the decapods. Not that we ever want to, but sometimes a few rich people fancy going on a hunt. When they do we set a ring of boats, lay some bait and they sit high and safe in a raft to shoot it down. Once we actually caught one for the Institute. Stunned it with sonic shock. God knows what they did with it or why they wanted it alive."

  "For export," said Veruchia. "I remember the incident. A museum ship arrived and wanted a specimen for Game. That was years ago."

  "That's what we'll do," Dumarest decided. "Well go back to the village, get men and boats and return. We can tow the boats so as to save time. When you're all set I'll go down to the ship."

  "Alone?" Shem snorted. "That's a sure way to commit suicide. How are you going to keep watch while you're working?"

  "I'll go down with him," said Veruchia.

  Shem stared at her. "You'll do what? After what happened to Larco? Are you raving mad?"

  "I've no choice," she said flatly. "I can't expect you to understand but I've got to get into that ship. If this is the only chance I have then I must take it. You'll hire me your gear?"

  "No."

  "The Ven brothers will have some. I'll use theirs."

  She met his eyes, sensing his indecision, knowing better than to offer him more money. If he agreed to help it would be because she was a woman and desperate and needing his skill and strength. His pride would not permit him to remain on the surface while she went below. And she was going, he knew it.

  His shrug was surrender. "All right, I'll help you. But just one thing. If anything happens to me be sure and take care of my family."

  * * *

  The night had brought eeriness, turning the bottom into a place of brooding mystery speared by the brilliance of their lights. Colors followed the beams, bright reds and yellows, unsuspected greens and aching blues. Fronds of weed drifted like menacing ghosts and tiny fish gleamed like living jewels as they moved towards the ship.

  A jellyfish drifted close, tendrils set to sting. It died beneath Shem's crushing hand.

  "Damn things," he muttered. "Is everything all right up there?"

  Izane's voice replied. "No movement in your vicinity of any kind. The second raft reports intense activity in the region of the assembled boats."

  That was miles away where the Ven brothers had spilled barrels of bait and the carcasses of slaughtered beasts. So far everything was going according to plan.

  Dumarest reached the cleared portion of the ship. Veruchia, bulky in her protective clothing drifted at his side. "The lock, Earl."

  "I think so. In fact I'm sure of it." He had picked up one of the discarded hammers. "I'm going to knock the rest of this stuff off the panel. Stand watch while I do it and Veruchia, be careful."

  She set down the laser and hefted her gun. A flashlight had been set along the barrel. A second light was strapped to her head and a third hung at her belt. "I'll be careful."

  She moved aside as he set to work, standing with the vessel at her back, head moving as she scanned the area. Shem stood at Dumarest's far side. He was uneasy, regretting his decision, weakened by his knowledge of the threatening sea. If an eel should come darting from the gloom there would be little time to spot it before it attacked—no time at all to escape. It would be a matter of centering in the beam of the torch mounted on the gun, blinding it, and shooting it to death before it could recover. And a decapod would be worse: slower, but harder to kill and slower to die.

  He shuddered at the thought of arms closing around him, crushing him to death.

  What had Larco thought when the jaws had gripped him? A moment of unbelief, perhaps, until the teeth had started to bite and the blood to flow, and then there could only have been horror, the terrible realization that he was going to die and that nothing could save him. Had he welcomed the darts which had ripped him apart?

  Shem moved uneasily, not liking such thoughts and knowing they were dangerous. This was no time for brooding. A moment's inattention and he could follow his late partner. Would Marth grieve for long?

  He heard the rasp of Dumarest's breath and said, "Best take a break now, Earl. I'll take over."

  It was good to lose his anxiety in work. He slammed the hammer against the hull, knocking away sheets of encrustation. The deposit came away easier now; the jar the ship had received must have loosened the coating and soon the entire port was clear. He hit it a few times to knock away the crusting over the handle and hinges. Maybe they wouldn't have to use the laser.

  Izane's voice whispered in his ear: "Something long and narrow approaching from the depths."

  Another eel! Shem dropped the hammer and snatched up his gun, the beam of light flashing from side to side as he traversed the weapon. Beneath the goggles sweat stung his eyes.

  Dumarest said, "Veruchia, stand beneath the port with your back to the ship, have your gun ready and look towards the shore. Shem, you stand to her right and look beyond her to your left. I'll take the other side." And then, to Izane: "How close and from which direction?"

  "About three hundred yards and to the southwest. It's moving very slowly."

  "The lights have made it curious," said Shem. "That and the hammering." He swung his gun in a wide circle, its beam joining that from his helmet. "We've got a blind spot. It could come up behind the ship and be on us before we know it. We should have had another man at least."

  Another dozen would have been better, but he had been the only fool in the village. He squinted at the air-gauge, a reflex action quickly learned by all divers, but there was no need for concern. They carried extra tanks and had plenty of air. Guiltily he returned to his vigil: that moment of inattention could have cost a life.

  Dumarest said, "Izane?"

  "It's still drifting, no, it's turning in a circle and heading towards the depths."

  Veruchia relaxed, conscious of the strain, the tension of bone and muscle. She had stood concentrating on the area before her, afraid even to blink. "It's gone, Earl."

  "It could come back," said Shem. "Those things are fast." He hesitated, wanting to suggest they return to the surface but knowing the woman would never agree. And, if she stayed, so would Dumarest, and how could he desert them now? He compromised. "Let's give it a little longer. It could come back with others."

  They waited five minutes and then got back to work. Dumarest ran his fingers around the edge of the port, eyes close to the surface, the beam of his helmet light reflected in a glowing halo so that he seemed to be limned with radiance.

  "We may not have to burn it open," he said. "It would save time if we didn't." More important a sudden rise in local temperature could attract unwanted visitors. "Izane?"

  "Nothing is moving in your immediate vicinity." The technician sounded worried. "But there has been another tremor to the south. A minor one, the shockwave dampened before it could reach you. I suggest that you waste no time."

  Dumarest gripped the handle of the port, pulled and felt the grate of metal. He rested both feet to either side and used the full force of back and shoulders as he pulled again. The handle rose. He jerked at it but lacked traction, his pull causing him to glide forward over the lock.

  "Use a hammer," advised Shem as he regained his position. "Here, let me." He swung the massive tool against the edge of the uplifted metal. Again, a third time. At the next blow the handle yielded, swinging down to the open position. "Right," he said. "That's freed the catch. Now let's see if we can get it open."

  Among the tools was a crowbar, three inches thick, twelve feet long, curved so as to give maximum leverage, one end flattened. Shem grunted as he rammed the thin edge under the rim of the port.

  "Help me, Earl. Use the hammer to drive it in. Once we get a grip we can lever it up." He swore as the panel resisted. "Damn it, what's holding it now?"

  Veruchia said, "It must still be watertight. The interior's full of air. We'll have to burn a hole and equalize the pressure. Earl?"

  "A minute. Izane."

  "Still clear. Two narrow shapes about a quarter of a mile towards the depths. One closer but very deep."

  The laser was designed for surface use, inefficient below the waves. It would work but it would take time to burn a hole. And the water would absorb the heat and diffuse it. Dumarest studied the port. The weight of water pressing against the panel would hold it shut but the merest crack would allow the escape of the air inside, the entry of water to equalize the pressure. He gripped the bar and swung his feet so they rested on the hull.

  "Join me, Shem. Together now." They heaved, muscles cracking beneath the strain. "Veruchia."

  She added her strength, straightening her legs so as to gain the advantage of the long muscles of thighs and calves, the bar across her shoulders, back and loins adding extra pressure. A long moment broken only by the rasp of labored breathing and then she felt a slight movement, another… then a gush of bubbles rose from the edge of the port.