Michael Crichton - Sphere

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.

The creature was shaking the entire habitat.

Barnes was on the far side of the room, trying to make his way to the bulkhead door. He had a bleeding gash along one arm and he was shouting orders, but Norman couldn’t hear anything except the terrifying sound of rending metal. He saw Fletcher squeeze through the bulkhead, and then Tina, and then Barnes made it through, leaving behind a bloody handprint on the metal.

Norman couldn’t see Harry, but Beth lurched toward him, holding her hand out, saying “Norman! Norman! We have to-” and then she slammed into him and he was knocked over and he fell onto the carpet, underneath the couch, and slid up against the cold outer wall of the cylinder, and he realized with horror that the carpet was wet.

The habitat was leaking.

He had to do something; he struggled back to his feet, and stood right in a fine sizzling spray from one of the wall seams. He glanced around, saw other leaks spurting from the ceiling, the walls.

This place is going to be torn apart.

Beth grabbed him, pulled her head close. “We’re leaking!” she shouted. “God, we’re leaking!”

“I know,” Norman said, and Barnes shouted over the intercom, “Positive pressure! Get positive pressure!” Norman saw Ted on the floor just before he tripped over him and fell heavily against the computer consoles, his face near the screen, the glowing letters large before him:

DO NOT BE AFRAID.

“Jerry!” Ted was shouting. “Stop this, Jerry! Jerry!”

Suddenly Harry’s face was next to Ted, glasses askew. “Save your breath, he’s going to kill us all!”

“He doesn’t understand,” Ted shouted, as he fell backward onto the couch, flailing arms.

The powerful wrenching of metal on metal continued without pause, throwing Norman from one side to the other. He kept reaching for handholds, but his hands were wet, and he couldn’t seem to grasp anything.

“Now hear this,” Barnes said over the intercom. “Chan and I are going outside! Fletcher assumes command!”

“Don’t go out!” Harry shouted. “Don’t go out there!”

“Opening hatch now,” Barnes said laconically. “Tina, you follow me.”

“You’ll be killed!” Harry shouted, and then he was thrown against Beth. Norman was on the floor again; he banged his head on one of the couch legs.

“We’re outside,” Barnes said.

And abruptly the banging stopped. The habitat was motionless. They did not move. With the water streaming in through a dozen fine, misty leaks, they looked up at the intercom speaker, and listened.

“Clear of the hatch,” Barnes said. “Our status is good. Armament, J-9 exploding head spears loaded with Taglin-50 charges. We’ll show this bastard a trick or two.”

Silence.

“Water… Visibility is poor. Visibility under five feet. Seems to be… stirred-up bottom sediment and… very black, dark. Feeling our way along buildings.”

Silence.

“North side. Going east now. Tina?”

Silence.

“Tina?”

“Behind you, sir.”

“All right. Put your hand on my tank so you-Good. Okay.”

Silence.

Inside the cylinder, Ted sighed. “I don’t think they should kill it,” he said softly.

Norman thought, I don’t think they can.

Nobody else said anything. They listened to the amplified breathing of Barnes and Tina.

“Northeast corner… All right. Feel strong currents, active, moving water… something nearby… Can’t see… visibility less than five feet. Can barely see stanchion I am holding. I can feel him, though. He’s big. He’s near. Tina?”

Silence.

A loud sharp crackling sound, static. Then silence.

“Tina? Tina?”

Silence.

“I’ve lost Tina.”

Another, very long silence.

“I don’t know what it… Tina, if you can hear me, stay where you are, I’ll take it from here… Okay… He is very close… I feel him moving… Pushes a lot of water, this guy. A real monster.”

Silence again.

“Wish I could see better.”

Silence.

“Tina? Is that-”

And then a muffled thud that might have been an explosion. They all looked at each other, trying to know what the sound meant, but in the next instant the habitat began rocking and wrenching again, and Norman, unprepared, was slammed sideways, against the sharp edge of the bulkhead door, and the world went gray. He saw Harry strike the wall next to him, and Harry’s glasses fell onto Norman’s chest, and Norman reached for the glasses for Harry, because Harry needed his glasses. And then Norman lost consciousness, and everything was black.