Corrie’s rooms were up near the “pole” of the living-sphere, on the axis of rotation where the effective gravity provided by the spin of Atlantis was negligible. One entire wall of her main room was a transparent panel, looking out onto the brightly lit submarine garden. Shimmering schools of fish moved lazily through the green and purple weeds, like a living rainbow.
On previous visits Rob had sat there for hours, looking out and not speaking. Since Corrie had developed that scenery herself — admittedly with substantial aid from the robo-gardeners — Rob’s interest had pleased her. Then she learned that for Rob it merely formed an unseen and neutral backdrop to the design calculations that occupied most of his waking hours. Rob was blessed with a strong visual imagination. When he was thinking hard, he literally did not see the display of life outside the window. After a couple of tries, Corrie decided that it was hopeless. Rob’s interest in the beauties of Nature could not compete with his fascination for pipes, cables, caissons, pulleys and ballasts.
By the time that Rob was through the inner lock of the entry shaft and had made his way to Corrie’s quarters, she was already changed into one of her light leotards. She was hovering three feet off the floor, legs crossed and tucked up beneath her, watching the graceful parade of fish across the viewing panel. As Rob came in she turned her head and motioned for him to keep quiet. Her head was cocked to one side, listening. Rob moved to her side. After a few seconds he could hear it, too, a steady burst of drumming against the outer wall, followed a few seconds later by an irregular sequence of loud thumps.
He looked at Corrie questioningly.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “It started as I was changing, and at first I didn’t take much notice of it.” She gestured to her left. “It sounds to me as though it comes from that way, farther along the wall.”
Rob leaned close to the panel and tried to see around the curve of the outer wall, but nothing was visible there. “Let’s go and take a look. We ought to be able to find another panel in that direction.”
“No need to. I think I can do better than that.” Corrie floated over to the elaborate control panel set into one wall of the room. She switched on the display screen that was mounted next to it. “When I first came here I found it was hard to know where people were in the living-sphere, and I wanted to look at the fish and the plants outside. I found an easy way to do it. Did you know that there are viewing cameras all over Atlantis, inside and out, so that Caliban can have data inputs about everything that’s happening? I tapped into the set that cover the living-sphere and the aquasphere. All we have to do is pick the right camera.”
Rob stared at the array of controls. Judging from the number of switches there must be several hundred cameras. So much for his “secret” trip to the aquasphere. It must have been purely a matter of luck whether or not he had been observed, and if Corrie could tap the camera net, so could anyone else. Had Corrie been up here when he was out there exploring? Rob suddenly recalled the unexpected appearance of Caliban. According to the usual schedule, the squid should have been engaged on the analysis of the data that had come in with Rob on the ship. If someone had interrupted that intentionally, Caliban’s sudden move to the central sphere was no accident. The “accident” was Rob’s own survival. Caliban found something of compelling interest to him in that central lab. Well, so did Rob — but the king of the aquasphere had time to watch the lab at his leisure.
Corrie was playing with the control switches, flipping them on and off quickly as she kept her attention on the display screen. “Nearly got it,” she said. The view was taken from a camera set out in the aquasphere. It looked back at the metal and plastic partition that surrounded the living-sphere. Corrie made a final adjustment to the setting, and the display changed to provide a split-screen image. They now had both a frontal and a side view of part of the living-sphere on the screen.
This section of the central sphere had been modified. Instead of a blank metal wall or a transparent panel, they were looking at a huge viewing screen set into the outer wall of the sphere. It showed an elaborate pattern of swirling and shifting colors. In front of it, tentacles flared into the arch of an “attack” posture, floated the colossal mass of Caliban.
As they watched, the squid moved forward to the screen and secured himself there with six of his powerful arms. After a few seconds the animal began to strike at the screen with his savage beak. They could again hear the heavy vibrations, transmitted through the outer wall.
Caliban was frantic. Rob saw the other four arms, their inner surfaces studded with suckers each bigger than the palm of his hand, flailing at the water. Powerful contractions rippled along their length, moving outward from the hulking body. After a few more seconds Caliban released his grip on the wall. In a flurry of convulsive movement, he coiled and uncoiled all ten of the great tentacles.
“It’s another fight with Morel,” whispered Corrie, almost as though the man could somehow hear them. “I’ve seen this before. He’s hitting Caliban in the pain centers. That’s the way he makes him cooperate on analysis of information. This time it doesn’t seem to be working.”
As she spoke, the great squid uncoiled itself completely and again moved forward to the big viewing screen. For the third time they heard the sound of the beak striking against the outer wall, and this time they could see the heavy partition flexing and twisting. The tentacles and suckers were capable of exerting enormous force.
“He knows that Morel is inside, behind the panel,” said Corrie softly. “He doesn’t know of any way to get at him. If Morel is right about Caliban’s intelligence, he ought to be worried. Some day Caliban will find a way to reach him.”
Although they could not see Morel, Rob realized that they were witnessing a true battle of wills. The man’s presence showed only from the kaleidoscopic patterns on the display screen and the periodic agonized convulsions of the giant squid. But he was there. Rob could visualize him, fair skin flushed with rage, trying to bend Caliban to his wishes. The animal was resisting desperately. At last, after four more attacks on the wall, Caliban withdrew and coiled all his tentacles loosely about his body. As he did so, the pattern on the viewing screen changed, to become a smooth and orderly movement of colored light.
“He’s given up,” said Corrie. “He’s doing what Morel wants. I’ve never seen a struggle like that before. Either Caliban is becoming more resistant, or Morel was trying to get something out of him that he really didn’t want to give.”
“Maybe Morel wasn’t after information,” said Rob. “Perhaps he was punishing Caliban, for something that the squid did.”
Or didn’t do. Rob thought back to his close shave earlier in the day. Why had Caliban suddenly appeared at the lab window? It was possible that he had been summoned there by Morel. If he had, was this Morel’s punishment for the squid’s failure to do what the man had expected? That would explain Morel’s envenomed looks at Rob during the evening meal, even if it would not explain why Morel’s hatred was so intense. It had to be tied to the secret lab.
Rob had already decided that there would be no more trips through the aquasphere until he knew far more about the workings of Atlantis. Regulo and Morel had made the whole asteroid a marvel of remote control, and there was no way of knowing what features of the water-world might be turned to a convenient instrument of liquidation for a prying visitor. Further investigation of the lab would have to be done from inside the living quarters, and that implied the use of equipment that Rob had not brought with him. He forced himself to accept the idea of patience.