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  The Terror from the Depths

  By Sewell Peaslee Wright

  [Transcriber's note: This etext was produced from Astounding StoriesNovember 1931. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

  Commander John Hanson challenges an appalling denizen of the watery world Hydrot.

  _His head reared itself from the ground._]

  "Good afternoon, sir," nodded Correy as I entered the navigating room.He glanced down at the two glowing three-dimensional navigating charts,and drummed restlessly on the heavy frames.

  "Afternoon, Mr. Correy. Anything of interest to report?"

  "Not a thing, sir!" growled my fire-eating first officer. "I'm aboutready to quit the Service and get a job on one of the passenger liners,just on the off chance that something exciting might eventually happen."

  "You were born a few centuries too late," I chuckled. Correy loved afight more than any man I ever knew. "The Universe has become prettywell quieted down."

  "Oh, it isn't that; it's just this infernal routine. Just one routinepatrol after another; they should call it the Routine Patrol Service.That's what the silver-sleeves at the Base are making of it, sir."

  At the moment, Correy meant every word he said. Even old-timers developcases of nerves, now and then, on long tours of duty in small ships likethe _Ertak_. Particularly men like Correy, whose bodies crave physicalaction.

  There wasn't much opportunity for physical activity on the _Ertak_; shewas primarily a fighting ship, small and fast, with every inch of spacedevoted to some utilitarian use. I knew just how Correy felt, becauseI'd felt the same way a great many times. I was young, then, one of theyoungest commanders the Special Patrol Service had ever had, and Irecognized Correy's symptoms in a twinkling.

  "We'll be re-outfitting at the Arpan sub-base in a couple of days," Isaid carelessly. "Give us a chance to stretch our legs. Have you seenanything of the liner that spoke to us yesterday?" I was just makingconversation, to get his mind out of its unhealthy channel.

  "The _Kabit_? Yes, sir; we passed her early this morning, lumberingalong like the big fat pig that she is." A pig, I should explain, is afood animal of Earth; a fat and ill-looking creature of lowintelligence. "The old _Ertak_ went by her as though she were standingstill. She'll be a week and more arriving at Arpan. Look: you can justbarely make her out on the charts."

  I glanced down at the twin charts Correy had indicated. In the center ofeach the red spark that represented the _Ertak_ glowed like a coal offire; all around were the green pinpricks of light that showed theposition of other bodies around us. The _Kabit_, while comparativelyclose, was just barely visible; her bulk was so small that it onlyfaintly activated the super-radio reflex plates upon the ship's hull.

  "We're showing her a pretty pair of heels," I nodded, studying ourposition in both dimensions. "Arpan isn't registering yet, I see. Who'sthis over here; Hydrot?"

  "Right, sir," replied Correy. "Most useless world in the Universe, Iguess. No good even for an emergency base."

  "She's not very valuable, certainly," I admitted. "Just a ball of waterwhirling through space. But she does serve one good purpose; she's asign-post it's impossible to mistake." Idly, I picked up Hydrot in thetelevision disk, gradually increasing the size of the image until I hadher full in the field, at maximum magnification.

  * * * * *

  Hydrot was a sizable sphere, somewhat larger than Earth--my naturalstandard of comparison--and utterly devoid of visible land. She was, asI had said, just a ball of water, swinging along uselessly throughspace, although no doubt there was land of some kind under that vast,unending stretch of gray water, for various observers had reported, intimes past, bursts of volcanic steam issuing from the water.

  Indeed, as I looked, I saw one such jet of steam, shooting into spacefrom a spot not far from the equator of the strange world. In thetelevision disk, it looked like a tiny wisp of white, barely visibleagainst the gray water, but in reality it must have been a mightyroaring column of smoke and steam and erupted material.

  "There's life in the old girl, anyway," I commented, indicating theimage in the disk. "See her spout?"

  We bent over the disk together, watching the white feather of steam.

  "First time I've ever seen that," said Correy. "I know volcanic activityhas been reported before, but--look, sir! There's another--two more!"

  Undoubtedly, things were happening deep in the bowels of Hydrot. Therewere now three wisps of steam rising from the water, two of them fairlyclose together, the other a considerable distance away, arranged to forma very long pointed triangle, the short base of which ran close to theequator, its longer sides reaching toward one of the poles; the northpole, as we happened to view the image.

  The columns of steam seemed to increase in size. Certainly they mountedhigher into the air. I could imagine the terrific roar of them as theyblasted their way through the sullen water and hurled it in steamingspray around their bases, while huge stones fell hissing into the wateron all sides. The eruption must have shaken the entire sphere; thegushing of those vomiting throats was a cataclysm of such magnitude thatI could not guess its effect.

  Correy and I watched tensely, hardly breathing. I think we both feltthat something was about to happen: a pent-up force had been released,and it was raging. We could almost hear the rumble of the volcanicexplosions and the ear-splitting hiss of the escaping steam.

  Suddenly Correy clutched my arm.

  "Look!" he whispered, "_Look!_"

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I could see the water crawlinginside the triangle formed by the three wisps of steam: crawling inwhite, foaming waves like tiny scraps of thread as it rushed headlong,in mighty tidal waves, away from the center of that triangle.

  The columns of steam flared up with fresh strength, darkening as thoughwith smoke. Here and there within the triangle black specks appeared,grew larger, and ran together in crooked lines that widened continually.

  "A--a new continent, sir!" said Correy almost reverently. "We've seen anew continent born."

  Correy had put my thoughts into words. We had seen a new continent born;on the gray surface of Hydrot there was now a great irregular blackblotch from which mounted three waving pillars of smoke and steam.Around the shores of the new continent the waters raged, white andangry, and little threads of white crawled outward from thoseshores--the crests of tidal waves that must have towered into the airtwice the _Ertak's_ length.

  Slowly, the shore-line changed form as fresh portions arose, and others,newly-risen, sank again beneath the gray water. The wisps of steamdarkened still more, and seemed to shrivel up, as though the fires thatfed them had been exhausted by the travail of a new continent.

  "Think, sir," breathed Correy, "what we might find if we landed there onthat new continent, still dripping with the water from which it sprang!A part of the ocean's bed, thrust above the surface to be examined atwill--Couldn't we leave our course long enough to--to look her over?"

  I confess I was tempted. Young John Hanson, Commander of the SpecialPatrol ship, _Ertak_, had his good share of natural curiosity, thespirit of adventure, and the explorer's urge. But at the same time, theService has a discipline that is as rigid and relentless as the passingof time itself.

  Hydrot lay off to starboard of our course: Arpan, where we were tore-outfit, was ahead and to port, and we were already swinging in thatdirection. The _Ertak_ was working on a close schedule that gave us nolatitude.

  "I'm afraid it can't be done, Mr. Correy," I said, shaking my head."We'll rep
ort it immediately, of course, and perhaps we'll get orders tomake an investigation. In that case--"

  "Not the _Ertak_!" interrupted Correy passionately. "They'll send a crewof bug-eyed scientists there, and a score or so of laboratory men toanalyze this, and run a test on that, and the whole mess of them willwrite millions of words apiece about the expedition that nobody willever read. I know."

  "Well, we'll hope you're wrong." I said, knowing in my heart that he wasperfectly right. "Keep her on her present course, Mr. Correy."

  "Present course it is, sir!" snapped Correy. Then we bent together overthe old-fashioned hooded television disk staring down silently andregretfully at the continent we had seen born, and