Professor Sullivan stood by one of the great statues that had been such a challenge to archaeology since Easter Island was discovered. King, god or whatever it might be, its eyeless gaze seemed to be following his as he looked upon his handiwork. He was proud of what he had done: it seemed a pity that it would soon be banished forever from human sight.
The tableau might have been the work of some mad artist in a drugged delirium. Yet it was a painstaking copy from life: Nature herself was the artist here. The scene was one that, until the perfection of underwater television, few men had ever glimpsed — and even then only for seconds on those rare occasions when the giant antagonists thrashed their way to the surface. These battles were fought in the endless night of the ocean depths, where the sperm whales hunted for their food. It was food that objected strongly to being eaten alive — The long, saw-toothed lower jaw of the whale was gaping wide, preparing to fasten upon its prey. The creature’s head was almost concealed beneath the writhing network of white, pulpy arms with which the giant squid was fighting desperately for life. Livid sucker-marks, twenty centimetres or more in diameter, had mottled the whale’s skin where those arms had fastened. One tentacle was already a truncated stump, and there could be no doubt as to the ultimate outcome of the battle. When the two greatest beasts on earth engaged in combat, the whale was always the winner. For all the vast strength of its forest of tentacles, the squid’s only hope lay in escaping before that patiently grinding jaw had sawn it to pieces. Its great expressionless eyes, half a metre across, stared at its destroyer — though, in all probability, neither creature could see the other in the darkness of the abyss.
The entire exhibit was more than thirty metres long, and had now been surrounded by a cage of aluminium girders to which the lifting tackle had been connected. Everything was ready, awaiting the Overlords’ pleasure. Sullivan hoped that they would act quickly: the suspense was beginning to be uncomfortable. Someone had come out of the office into the bright sunlight, obviously looking for him. Sullivan recognized his chief clerk, and walked over to meet him.
“Hello, Bill — what’s the fuss?”
The other was holding a message form and looked rather pleased.
“Some good news, Professor. We’ve been honoured! The Supervisor himself wants to come and look at our tableau before it’s shipped off. Just think of the publicity we’ll get. It will help a lot when we apply for our new grant. I’d been hoping for something like this.”
Professor Sullivan swallowed hard. He never objected to publicity, but this time he was afraid he might get altogether too much.
Karellen stood by the head of the whale and looked up at the great, blunt snout and the ivory-studded Jaw. Sullivan, concealing his unease, wondered what the Supervisor was thinking. His behaviour had not hinted at any suspicion, and the visit could be easily explained as a normal one. But Sullivan would be very glad when it was over.
’We’ve no creatures as large as this on our planet,” said Karellen. “That is one reason why we asked you to make this group. My — er — compatriots will find it fascinating.”
“With your low gravity,” answered Sullivan, “I should have thought you would have had some very large animals. After all, look how much bigger you are than us!”