Forces from Beyond

  “That’s it?” said Happy.

  “No light in the ocean this far down, remember?” said Melody.

  “Then what’s the point of the screens?” said JC.

  “To make us feel better,” said Melody.

  “Not really working,” said Happy.

  “There’s no telling what local conditions will be like, once we get up close and personal with the Flesh Undying,” Melody said patiently. “Or what kind of phenomena we’re going to encounter. We might be alone down there; and we might not. Any advance warning has got to be a good thing . . . Assuming this shit works.”

  “Really not feeling better at all,” said Happy.

  They sat together in the limited light of the sphere’s interior, which felt less cosy and more oppressive the deeper they went. There was a growing feeling of having left the world behind, of moving into unknown and unfriendly territory. The sphere’s outer shell made slow, creaking sounds, and JC flinched a little every time. He was pretty sure it was just the metal layers adjusting to the changing pressure, but that didn’t help. He didn’t like to think about what was going on outside the sphere, about the steadily increasing tons of pressure per square inch, and how it would crush the sphere’s contents to the size of a walnut if anything went wrong. He looked at Happy. Sweat was coursing down the telepath’s face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he struggled to keep everything out. JC hoped that was working. He looked at Melody, focusing all her attention on the monitor screens before her. JC wanted to ask if the information scrolling across the bottom of the screens meant anything important, but didn’t like to. He just knew he wouldn’t understand the answers.

  Down and down they went, into the endless night of the world, until JC lost all track of how far they’d come. He wondered if someone on the Moonchilde should have talked to them by now, just to make sure they were all right, and only then remembered that communications were supposed to be limited to emergencies. He really should have asked someone how long the descent would take, or at the very least insisted on some kind of depth-gauge. But everything had happened in such a hurry . . . One of the machines made a sudden pinging noise.

  “What?” JC said immediately. “What was that?”

  “Calm down,” said Melody, still intent on the screens. “It’s just the sonar. It’s picking up movement in the vicinity of the sphere.”

  “Something’s alive out there?” said JC.

  “Could be,” said Melody. “Happy, can you . . . ?”

  “Don’t ask me,” said the telepath, not opening his eyes. “I’m shut down.”

  “You can look out a port-hole, can’t you?” said Melody.

  Happy reluctantly opened his eyes and got up out of his chair. He stepped over and around piled-up equipment to get to the nearest port-hole and pressed his face up against the reinforced glass.

  “Well?” said JC.

  “Can’t see a damned thing,” said Happy. “Just the dark. It’s like night down here, but a night that never knew a moon or any stars . . .”

  The sonar made new sounds, louder and more urgent, then closer and closer together.

  “That’s not good, is it?” said JC.

  “Sonar is picking up multiple signals,” said Melody, frowning. “Seems like our arrival is attracting a crowd.”

  “How many?” said JC.

  “Lots,” said Melody. “Apparently from all directions.”

  Happy made a sudden, shocked noise, and jerked his face back from the port-hole. “We are definitely not alone down here, people! The welcoming committee is here, and I want to go back up again, right now.”

  JC got up out of his chair and struggled over to the other port-hole. And from out of the endless dark, strange, living things came surging forward to stare at him. Weird, distorted shapes, glowing with their own light, came swarming all around the bathysphere. They had eyes and teeth and some things that made no sense at all.

  “Talk to me, JC,” said Melody. “What are you seeing?”

  “Nothing I can put a name to,” JC said steadily. “And I have seen some pretty odd things on deep-water documentaries. These shapes don’t make any sense . . . It’s like somebody crammed a dozen different species into a blender and hit shuffle. They’re more like . . . dreams and fancies, given shape and form.”

  He couldn’t look away, fascinated by the lengths life could go to, away from the normal restrictions of light and warmth and gravity. Impossibly long eels, with forests of trailing tentacles. Huge squid with massive, unblinking eyes and bodies like exploded flowers. Many-legged things that seemed to scull through the water, so transparent JC could see their inner organs pulsing. Some were the size of goldfish, others looked big enough to swallow the bathysphere whole. None of them seemed to want to get too close to the sphere or interfere with its descent. They were just . . . interested. They circled around and around, as though curious at this strange intruder from above, dropping down into their world.

  “These things are seriously ugly,” said JC after a while. “I’m surprised simple probability hasn’t produced something more . . . aesthetically pleasing.”

  “Hush,” said Happy. “They might read lips.”

  JC pulled his face back from the port-hole. “I can honestly say that never even occurred to me.”

  “I’m chemically altered, not stupid,” said Happy.

  “It is amazing, what the ocean depths can produce in the way of new life,” said JC.

  “No,” said Happy. “There’s nothing natural about these creatures. You were right the first time—they were made like this. Separated parts of the Flesh Undying, operating as drones, on sentry duty.”

  JC looked back at Happy. The telepath was staring out his port-hole at the weird creatures with a calm, thoughtful expression. Without glancing back at JC, Happy smiled briefly.

  “Yes, I’m operating again. I can feel their presence, tapping on the locked doors of my mind. There’s no point in my trying to hide any longer.”

  “How do you feel?” said JC.

  “Astonishingly sane,” said Happy. “For the moment. I can feel the drugs surging back and forth inside me like high tides, and I am surfboarding!”

  JC decided he’d let that one pass. “If these things are on sentry duty . . . do any of them feel dangerous? Or ready to sound an alarm?”

  “They’re not alive,” Happy said patiently. “Not even sentient, as we would understand it. They’re just . . . flecks of Flesh, shed and given shape and purpose by the Flesh Undying’s under-conscious. Its version of an early-warning system. I don’t think they’re necessarily— Holy shit!”

  He jerked back his head, retreated quickly from the port-hole, and fell over the equipment. JC scrambled right over him, to stare out of the port-hole the telepath had abandoned. And when JC pressed his face up against the reinforced glass, the Faust stared back at him. That cold, familiar face, not in the least distorted by the incredible water pressure. The Faust floated up and down before the port-hole, staring in with wide, unblinking eyes. There wasn’t a trace of personality or even awareness in the Faust’s face.

  “Is that . . . really him?” said JC, not looking away.

  “No,” said Happy, getting painfully to his feet. “Or, at least, I doubt it. The Flesh is dreaming; and its dreams are coming out to play.”

  The Faust beat on the outside of the bathysphere with his empty hands. His movements were odd, unreal, disturbing.

  “Don’t worry,” said Melody. “He can’t get in. I don’t care what he’s made of; Flesh is no match for layers of cold steel.”

  “Can I have that in writing?” said Happy.

  The Faust disappeared from in front of the port-hole and went scrabbling across the outside of the bathysphere, scuttling back and forth like an oversized insect. Looking for a weakness, or a way in. He ended up at the air-lock; and they could al
l hear him fumbling at the lock’s mechanisms with his bare hands.

  “Tell me he can’t get in,” said JC.

  “He can’t get in,” said Melody. “Even if he could somehow get through all the security measures, the water pressure would still hold the air-lock door closed.”

  But she didn’t sound one hundred per cent convinced. The three Ghost Finders stared at the air-lock until the sounds suddenly stopped.

  “Happy . . . ?” said JC.

  “He’s gone,” said Happy. “Though don’t ask me where . . .”

  “Was that the Faust we knew?” said JC. “I mean, it looked just like him, but . . .”

  “The Flesh made one, no reason why it couldn’t make another,” said Happy. “But the man we knew couldn’t survive under these conditions . . .”

  “I’m getting something,” said Melody, and the others turned immediately to look at her. She was crouching before one particular monitor screen, tapping on it thoughtfully with a fingertip. “The Geiger counter is adamant there’s no radiation down here, not even expected background levels. But this screen is picking up regular surges of unknown, unnatural energies. And these readings . . . are like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Dangerous?” said JC.

  “Unknown,” said Melody.

  “Is there any way to send this sphere into reverse?” said Happy. “Only I really would like to get the hell out of here. Please. Pretty please.”

  Even as he said that, something bumped heavily against the outside of the bathysphere, hard enough to send all three of them sprawling. Melody held on to the monitor screens, sheltering them with her body. JC cried out as he jarred his back painfully on an outcropping piece of equipment. Happy crouched down behind his chair. The sounds from the sonar rose to a new pitch of volume and intensity. JC hauled himself forward to stand beside Melody.

  “Careful!” said Melody, not looking round. “Don’t break anything we might have to depend on later.”

  JC leaned in beside her, looking at the screen holding her attention. Information scrolling across the bottom seemed to make some sense, to her. He stood up again and fought his way back to his port-hole. But even with his face pressed right up against the glass, he couldn’t see anything.

  “The creatures have all disappeared!” he said. “There’s nothing out there!”

  Something hit the sphere again, rocking it from side to side. Loose bits and pieces fell and broke, as the three Ghost Finders reached desperately for something to hang on to.

  “Something is very definitely still out there!” said Happy.

  “Big enough to scare off everything else,” said Melody. “Or convince them they’re not needed. I’m not getting any readings on the short-range sensors, JC!”

  “What’s out there?” said JC. “What is it?”

  “Big,” said Melody. “And I mean seriously big. We are talking about something big enough to punch a blue whale in the mouth and send it home, crying to its mother.”

  Something hit the sphere hard from underneath, lifting it up and shaking it violently. The overhead light dimmed for a moment, then came back. The Ghost Finders hung on to whatever was nearest, hands clenched painfully tight. Sounds from the sonar were going crazy.

  “Everyone get into their chairs!” said JC. “Before it comes back!”

  They scrambled across the equipment to their chairs, then looked quickly about them.

  “They should have fitted safety straps,” said JC. “Are we under attack, Happy? Happy . . . Talk to me! Are you picking up anything from whatever that is?”

  “It’s not . . . thinking,” said Happy. His eyes were very big, and he was sweating heavily again. Holding his hands together, to keep them from shaking. “It’s more like it’s been programmed to do certain things.”

  “Then why is it hitting us?” said JC.

  “To see what will happen,” said Happy.

  “There must be something in here we can use as a weapon,” said Melody. “Something to drive it away before it ruptures the outer layers or breaks our support lines!”

  “The scientists said we could electrify the outer hull,” said JC.

  “No!” Happy said immediately. “Don’t do anything that might make us appear a threat! That would activate new programming . . . Remember; our best bet to survive this close encounter with the Flesh Undying is not to be noticed. By the thing itself or any of its offshoots.”

  “So what should we do?” said Melody.

  “Nothing,” said Happy. “And very quietly.”

  They sat still, breathing heavily, their eyes darting around the sphere as they listened for any sign of a new attack. JC was so tense, all his muscles were screaming. His hands ached from clutching the chair’s arms so tightly. He turned his head back and forth. He could feel something moving outside the bathysphere, a great presence circling in the dark. Watching them, studying them. Maybe wondering whether it should crack the sphere open to see what was inside. JC’s back muscles ached in anticipation of the next hard knock as he wondered whether that would be the one to rupture the sphere’s seams and let the water in. And whether it would be the pressure that killed them, or the water that drowned them.

  But there was no other attack, no more bangs or nudges from outside. The sphere continued to descend, quite steadily, and the sounds from the sonar slowly calmed down. The pings grew further apart, then quieter, and finally fell silent. JC let out his breath in a long sigh and relaxed, just a little. He let go of the arm-rests and flexed his aching fingers.

  “Is it gone?” he asked, whispering, as though it might still hear him.

  “Sonar isn’t picking up anything,” said Melody. “All the short-range sensors are quiet. Nothing on the screens, big or small.”

  “And I’m not feeling anything,” said Happy. “Apart from blind terror, muscle cramps, and an urgent need for a toilet.”

  “I don’t think they got around to installing a chemical toilet,” said Melody.

  “Too late anyway,” said Happy. “Joking! Just . . .”

  “So hopefully it’s decided we’re harmless,” said JC.

  “Or the Flesh Undying has decided it wants a closer look at us,” said Melody.

  They sat in silence as the sphere sank ever deeper, watching the monitor screens and waiting for the sonar to ping again. Nothing happened for a long time. JC relaxed, almost despite himself, because it’s just not possible to stay that tense for so long. When the sonar did ping again, they all jumped.

  “Just the one signal,” said Melody. “Not moving . . . we’re descending towards it. One really big signal.”

  “We’re there,” said JC.

  “There?” said Happy.

  “Where we’re supposed to be,” said Melody.

  “The living mountain,” said JC. “The Flesh Undying, in the Flesh at last.”

  “We made it!” said Melody.

  “I think I’d feel happier if you didn’t sound quite so surprised,” said Happy.

  “How close are we?” said JC.

  “I can’t tell from these readings,” said Melody. “If I had to guess, which I do, I’d say pretty damned close.”

  JC and Happy looked at each other, then JC got up out of his chair and went back to his port-hole. And there it was—a single huge shape—glowing with a fierce disturbing illumination that only passed for light because there was nothing else JC could call it. A sick, spoiled kind of light. The sphere was just a tiny object set against the scale of the living mountain; and it was clear there was still a long way to go before the bathysphere would reach the base of the mountain and the ocean floor.

  JC stared hungrily at what he’d come such a long way to see. The Flesh Undying, the living mountain . . . it had form and mass and attributes, but none of them made any sense to human eyes. JC quietly asked Melody and Happy to come
over and join him, and they squeezed in beside him at the port-hole. They all looked for as long as they could stand, then they had to turn their heads away. It was too much, too complex, for human comprehension. Happy was shaking with reaction just from its proximity. Mankind was not meant to look on the face of the Medusa. Melody went back to her monitor screens.

  “The sensors are . . . confused. I think they’re saying the Flesh Undying is a whole bunch of different things, all at once. Even contradictory things.”

  “Something that exists in more than three spatial dimensions . . .” said Happy. “How is that even possible?”

  “It’s like something impossibly complex has been grafted or superimposed onto our reality,” said Melody. “Like a cube, glued to a flat piece of paper. When we look at the living mountain, I don’t think we’re seeing what’s actually there. Just as much of it as our senses can process.”

  “You should be able to see more of it than us, Happy,” said JC.

  “Doesn’t work that way,” said Happy. “Even with my brain chemistry currently running on nitrous-oxide superchargers, I’m still only human. All any of us can see is the tip of the iceberg, if you don’t mind a somewhat scrambled metaphor. And I think what we are seeing is the least disturbing part. If we could properly grasp everything the Flesh Undying is . . . I think our souls would puke.”

  “So the forces from Outside really are the good guys, after all,” said JC.

  “They’d better be,” said Happy. “I’d hate to think there was anything worse than the Flesh Undying.”

  “Now we’re here,” said Melody, “what are we supposed to do?”

  “You heard the Boss, Mel,” said Happy. “We’re just an information-gathering expedition. No heroics, by order.”

  “The instruments are here to observe,” said Melody. “They don’t need us for that. We’re here . . . to decide whether it’s possible to actually do something.”

  “The Voice said I was their weapon,” JC said slowly. “You think anyone up on that ship has any idea how to destroy something this big? They’ve no idea what they’re really up against.”

  “So it’s up to us to save the day,” said Melody.