“That was sweet, Ted,” Dianna said. Tears ran down her face, but she managed to sound cheerful. “But it’s no good. Captain Bill won’t get back in time, and I can’t swim all the way to the reef with my ankle slashed up. You’re going to have to send up a flare and swim away without me.”
I clenched her shoulder tightly. “If I have to, I’ll do the swimming for both of us.”

“I suppose you would,” Dianna said soberly. “But I can’t let you. Ted, I have to stay. Even if we manage to swim to the reef together, Captain Bill will only be able to take one of us. If you try to swim to the lifeboat, or wait until Captain Bill comes back, you will be killed. If the waves don’t get you, the fish will. It wasn’t just internal stress that made the floor cave in.” I already knew it, and as she gazed into my eyes, I could tell that she knew that I knew it, but would make the attempt anyway. “Please, Ted,” she sobbed. “Just go.”

I was hopelessly torn. I couldn’t bear to abandon her to her death, but I couldn’t just refuse her request. It was the infinitely sad look on her face that made me relent. “OK, I’ll leave you here,” I said, “but I’m coming back for you.” I picked her up and carried her toward a cylindrical shark cage on deck.

She didn’t struggle, but made it clear that she did not approve. “Ted, you are out of your mind,” she said coldly as I set her down in the cage.

“This cage will at least keep you safe from fish,” I said with phony calm. I handed her a breathing mask and an emergency air tank. “There’s enough oxygen here to keep you alive for fifteen minutes. I’ll go to the lifeboat, get some more weapons and ammunition and then come back for you.”

“Good bye, Ted,” she said in an emotionless tone as I locked the cage. “I hope I’ll see you again, some time.”

“I’ll rescue you or die trying,” I said. I rolled the cage overboard before she could try to discourage me. The cage sank straight down, into a deep underwater gulch. A glowing pink buoy at the end of a rope followed the cage overboard. I sent up a flare and dived overboard, just before what was left of Kon Tiki sank.

I swam for about 100 yards before I reached the reef. I sat on the coral and waved one of the lights on my diving suit around. Within moments, Captain Bill arrived. “Where’s Dianna?” he asked.
“She’s in a shark cage, under water. I figured I could come back for her.”

“Carlos thought you might do something like that. We’re all behind you, but we can’t wait long enough for two trips here and back. The boat is taking on water too fast. Anything we do has to be done now. Carlos had me bring two underwater pistols, a couple of spear guns and a `boing stick’, plus four replacement barrels for the boing stick. I found a shorter route back to the ship; climb in and let’s go!”

We cruised along for several hundred yards before we found what we were looking for. It was a deep and narrow gap in the coral reef, just wide enough for two people to swim through. The Manta could have gone through the gap, but not safely. “Go on in,” Bill said. “I’ll circle and try to draw the fish away.”

I swung out of the Manta’s lower compartment and swam into the gap. I turned on my three lamps and drew the two underwater pistols. With five air-sealed barrels each, the pistols were quite bulky. Their range was twenty feet or less, and they weren’t very accurate, but they were better than a boing stick against multiple targets. With the pistols, I could fire five shots at a time (after which the barrels had to be replaced), whereas the boing stick could only fire one shot at a time. I wanted to save the boing stick for a carefully aimed shot against a very big fish.

Halfway through the gap, I ran into some nasty customers. A six-foot coelacanth approached, but swam away after I fired a shot at it. Moments later, I ran into a group of four sharks. Compared to a great white or a tiger shark, these slender, eel-like creatures were puny, but they moved with the same deadly purpose. One of them could clearly inflict serious injuries, and four of them attacking in unison could easily kill a man. I opened fire without hesitation, and didn’t stop shooting until both guns were empty. Two sharks fled, and another turned on its dying companion. I discarded the pistols and drew the boing stick. I swam past the two fighting sharks; I figured that any shark that was busy eating another shark was no threat to me.

I figured wrong. The unwounded shark attacked me from behind. Its teeth scraped harmlessly against my air tank, but the force of the impact slammed me into the coral. My goggles cracked, and my weapon fell from my hands. I rolled over and punched the shark in the snout. It responded with a snap at my air hose, but I was ready for it. I caught it by the throat and shoved my fingers into its gill slits. The fish writhed like a malevolent fire hose, its jaws snapping inches from my air hose, but I had just enough strength to hold it at bay. I drew my survival knife and tried to stab it in the eyes or the gills. Abruptly, the shark jerked free and swam away.

I looked over my shoulder to see what might have scared it off. I was shocked to see the boing stick being dragged along by a strange current. I had just enough time to get a grip on the stock. However, the current was so strong that I was dragged along, too. I was being sucked toward an enormous hole that was barely recognizable as the mouth of a large fish resting on the coral. That gaping maw would have made an anaconda envious. The fish itself was a flabby, nearly shapeless mass that had the same orange spots as the color around it. It looked to be at least eight feet long. The flattened fish seemed to coalesce into a torpedo shape and then surged forward like an aggressive black hole.

I held onto the coral with one hand and fired the boing stick with the other. The weapon’s massive spring slammed into the cartridge, setting off an explosion in the airtight aluminum barrel. A 15 mm grenade sailed straight down the fish’s cavernous throat. It closed its mouth, thinking it had caught a morsel. When the grenade went off, it swelled up like a puffer fish. It then sagged and shrank like a deflating balloon, finally collapsing into a shapeless lump with a bloody hole in it.

Soon, the end of the gap came into view. I could see the glowing buoy, 15 meters beyond it. The buoy was obscured for a moment when something big swam in front of it. Fearing that Dianna was in trouble, I swam forward as fast as I could. I almost swam straight into the mouth of a five-meter fish. It was one of the placoderms, a heavily armored class of fish that dominated the oceans during this period. Given its size, it could only be one of a predatory genus called Dunkleosteus. The fish was coming fast; I didn’t have time to do anything except curse myself for not reloading the boing stick. At the last second, the oncoming placoderm swerved to avoid me. I managed to avoid being struck by its tail as it swam away. It actually swam even faster, until it vanished from view. I was puzzled by its behavior, but within moments, I realized the truth: It was fleeing from another fish. For an adult Dunkleosteus, that could mean only one thing: another Dunkleosteus.

I had already guessed what I was looking for: a large placoderm, perhaps as much as 10 meters in length. As I searched the darkness for the fearsome predator, I realized that the buoy was shaking. It was then that I saw the shimmering scales of a giant fish. It was silver-colored, with black stripes that made it hard to estimate its shape and size. It appeared to be about 30 feet long, with decidedly serpent-like proportions. As I watched, the fish raised its head. I shuddered with horror when I saw that it had the shark cage clamped in its jaws. It began swinging the cage back and forth like a terrier shaking a rat, slamming it repeatedly against a coral outcropping.

I knew that the chances of Dianna still being alive were slim, and my chances of killing the fish even slimmer. The sensible thing to do would have been to turn back, but that course of action never crossed my mind. I was willing to take any chances to save her, or merely to avenge her. Cold fury filled me, and I swam forward with a shout.

The placoderm looked at me. It looked more like a machine than an animal. Its face and fins were covered by large, angular scales that undoubtedly functioned as armor, though its real armor lay beneath its thin skin. It did not have teeth, but a saw-edged beak, with four pick-axe spikes in front. Extensive scars showed where its hide had been pierced by its own kind. I aimed at its face, but changed my mind when I saw that the cage was still in its mouth. I could barely see Dianna inside; she seemed to be moving, feebly. I shifted my aim to the fish’s midsection and fired—and missed.

The Dunkleosteus dropped the cage, turned its head, threw open its gaping mouth and shrieked. It was a sound like water running through a pipe, modulated into a trilling screech. To my horror, the door of the cage fell open, but the fish’s attention was fully on me. I swam to the side, dodging a lunging attack from the fish. As it sailed past me, it did a tight turn. I found myself encircled by the predator.

The fish opened its mouth, and a powerful current almost pulled me in. I clung to the coral with one hand, while holding on desperately to the gun with the other. I managed to get one of the extra barrels loosed from my bandoleer, and let it fly into the fish’s mouth. The jaws closed on the shiny object. There was a double explosion, and the fish went reeling back. I swam away, furiously unscrewing the used barrel. When the fish came after me, I threw the barrel, and the fish veered off. But, when the barrel bounced harmlessly off its head, it advanced again.

I turned off all but one of my lamps and dropped the lit lamp as an extra distraction. I swam toward the cage, and screwed on a new barrel as I went. As soon as the replacement barrel was attached, I turned around for another shot. The fish was right behind me; the lamp had failed to distract it. I almost swallowed my breathing mask in horror. I barely had enough time to fire. The sharpened tip of the grenade plunged into the fish’s bony head, but the force of the impact was too great. The tip snapped before detonation, and the grenade ended up exploding in the midst of some coral. Fortunately, the explosion stunned it momentarily. I had just enough time to escape once again.

The fish had clearly had enough from me. It let out a warning shriek, and then turned back toward the shark cage. I couldn’t allow that! There wasn’t enough time to replace the barrel. I had to get the fish’s attention, and then somehow stay alive long enough to reload. I unscrewed the used barrel and then banged it frantically against the coral. The fish stopped, grunted and looked back at me. I threw a big chunk of coral, which bounced off the fish’s head. That was enough provocation for it to come back for more. As the fish wheeled around for another attack, I turned on a wrist lamp and pointed it at the fish’s eye. Its pupils contracted violently under the brilliant light. The fish shrieked in pain, and then launched itself at the agonizing light source. I dropped the lamp and the barrel, and then scrambled up the face of the reef. There was an impressive thump as the gullible and half-blinded predator smacked headfirst into a coral outcropping. I smiled and screwed in a new barrel.

In the bright moonlight, I could see the fish thrashing about like a drunken comet. I fired at the fish’s body, but missed by a matter of inches. The explosion left the fish unharmed, but angrier than before. Once again, I frantically removed the barrel. I realized too late that the fish was looking directly at me. It squealed like a pig and swam toward me. When I threw away the barrel, the fish paused to watch it fall, but did not try to eat the gleaming object. As soon as I pulled the last barrel from my bandolier, its gaze shifted back to me. I froze and tried to conceal the barrel in my clenched fist. The fish seemed to be unsure exactly where I was. I prayed that it would look away for just a few seconds. Instead, the fish swam slowly toward me.
There was a thunderous “CLANG-NG” from the direction of the shark cage. The fish froze. There was another clang, and the fish looked away. I brought the barrel and the boing stick together and started twisting. I followed the fish’s gaze to Dianna, who was now swimming away from the shark cage. Her copper hair shone in the moonlight. The fish squealed in alarm and went after its escaping prey. I paddled after it, attaching the barrel with one last twist as I swam. I turned on my headlamp to get the fish’s attention.

This time, the fish did not pause. It turned around and snapped at me with one smooth motion. However, I was ready for it. I pulled the trigger and fired a grenade at the joint between its head and its shoulders, where some flexible skin showed between the plates of armor. The grenade struck, stuck, and then exploded. The fish keeled over like a jack-knifing truck, landing on its side against the coral. It continued to move, but all it did was flop along the bottom. With the monster apparently out of the way, I swam to Dianna.

She was heavily bruised and bleeding in several places. Her skin was red from the cold. Nevertheless, she managed to swim sluggishly out to meet me. I clasped her clammy hands, and then embraced her fiercely. When I let go, her eyes were wide with surprise. I tried to break the tension by pointing to her tiny air tank. In response to my implied question, she showed me the air gauge. There was a little less than five minutes of air left, just enough to get her to the lifeboat. I locked arms with Dianna and swam back the way I had come. As we neared the gap in the coral, Dianna tugged on my arm and pointed the other way. I looked over my shoulder and gasped in horror. The Dunkleosteus was up and swimming, though it was listing to starboard. Blood poured from the side of its head like billows of smoke. The fish was obviously seriously injured, but it still looked quite deadly. I started paddling as fast as I could, draggling Dianna forward relentlessly. Behind us, there was that strange hydraulic scream. I didn’t have to turn around again to know that the fish was in pursuit.

When we were just a few feet into the gap, there was a second scream, closer than before. I estimated that the fish had halved the distance between us, but I wasn’t going to look over my shoulder to check. I tossed the boing stick over my shoulder and swam even faster. There was a fantastic crunch as the fish pulverized the weapon with a single bite. I had bought us a fraction of a second. There was thumping and more crunching as the fish crashed against the sides of the gap. The tight space was slowing the fish down even more, but the noises made it clear that the fish would soon catch up to us.

As we approached the end of the passage, a coelacanth (perhaps the same one I had shot at before) approached menacingly. As soon as it got a good look at our pursuer, however, it turned tail and fled. Just when it looked like we were both fish food, help came from a most unexpected source. The fifteen-foot Dunkleosteus that had fled before suddenly plunged down upon its rival. The force of the impact slammed the bigger fish into the coral. The sound of the collision was oddly melodic, like someone hitting himself over the head with a bottle. The vengeful smaller fish tried to wrap its jaws around the other’s throat, but it didn’t have enough gape to do more than scratch the other fish’s armor. The big fish retaliated by biting into its attacker’s right pectoral fin. A deafening shriek echoed through the gap, with the coral acting like a natural megaphone. I didn’t see any more of their battle, but we could feel the sounds of combat reverberating in our bones.

Captain Bill was waiting a few yards beyond the gap. I swam up to the captain, and we touched facemasks to talk. “Take the Manta, and get Miss Gonzalez to the lifeboat. I’ll swim back on my own,” Bill said. “I’m going back to the ship to retrieve some specimens.” Before I could protest, he twisted the Manta’s throttle and sent me careening away .

Just then, the smaller dunk emerged from the gap. I strapped Dianna into the lower compartment and then took the controls. I pulled away just as the victorious fifteen-footer emerged from the gap. It might have overtaken us, if Captain Bill had not fired a harpoon into its side. I pushed the craft to full throttle and quickly outpaced the fish. I looked over my shoulder and saw the fish still on our trail, dragging the captain behind it. “Didn’t have to swim back yourself, after all,” I said with a smile. My smile vanished when I saw the form of the larger Dunkleosteus lumbering along behind them both.

I surfaced dangerously close to the lifeboat. “Nice piloting, Ted,” Carlos snarled sarcastically. “Now get your sorry butt on board and help bail!”

I didn’t climb in until Dianna was safely aboard. By then, she was passed out. “Get her wrapped up in an electric blanket,” I ordered. I put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “You’re a brave woman. You did great.” She sighed and smiled in her sleep. I gazed blissfully at her face, and wondered how I could have denied my feelings for so long.
A brawny hand clapped down on my shoulder. It was Dr. Smith. “Mr. Flockman,” he said, “where is Captain Bill?”
“He’s swimming back,” I said.

“He’s a bloody idiot,” Carlos muttered. The leaky boat suddenly rocked with an impact. A fish was attacking us. Dianna moaned and rolled against me. Carlos shouted, “Eat this!” and tossed a small object overboard. Seconds later, there was a blinding flash, a spray of steam and a stifled shriek. I looked over the side to see the fifteen-foot placoderm, glowing from within as if it had swallowed a 10,000-watt spotlight.

“What was that?” I asked Carlos in awe.
“An incendiary micro grenade,” he answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “Just a little souvenir I brought back from Indonesia. It contains a substance similar to thermate that burns quite a bit hotter.”

I remembered his legal troubles after using illegal flechette shells on one of our expeditions. “Is it legal?” I asked.
“Well…. it’s never been banned…”
“Do you have any more?” I asked.

“Yes, one more,” Carlos said warily. “We also have the last boing stick and the Super Uzi. Why do you ask?”

“Because there’s another placoderm around, twice as big as the one you just killed,” I explained grimly. “It almost ate Dianna and me. I wounded it with a grenade, and that fried fish down there attacked it, but the last I saw, it was coming this way.”

“You’re saying that there’s a predator out there that survived a hit from a 15 mm grenade,” Carlos said incredulously, “and Captain Bill still decided to come back on his own?” I nodded. “That f*ing lunatic!”

“Well, lunatic our no, we have to wait for him,” I said. “You’re the one who always says, `leave no one behind.”

Carlos shook his head. “No, we have to go. Bill ain’t coming, and if we wait, we could be in danger,” he said. “There’s an older tradition, y’see: ‘The captain goes down with the ship.’ Bill’s carrying it out. And I suppose that he’ll try to take the fish with him. He brought a case of dynamite, y’see…”

I needed no further convincing. I moved away as fast as the boat would go. Moments later, a column of water shot up from the depths. Dead fish and broken coral showered down. Our captain was gone. We all cried, but I grieved most of all for ourselves. For I was sure I could not fill his shoes.