"That was a wild guess," admitted Kort, spinning the wheel briefly. "That one was no more solid than the others—until it was dead. I wondered where it was when it wasn't there. And suddenly the answer came—all over the ship, of course. During that part of its period when it wasn't in the cabin it was in the stokehole and on deck and maybe on the bottom, three miles down, besides. Because it wasn't several, but all one. Just one thing, with the power of being several places at once." He paused, then continued.
"You thought it fed on heat energy and oxygen. Well, there's precious little of both three miles down. It could absorb more of what there was by splitting itself up—probably had to, to survive. By projecting ten images of itself, all capable of feeding for the common benefit—it had ten chances for food instead of one. When I killed it in the cabin it materialized there and disappeared elsewhere, because its vibratory form depended on life, that is, on will or instinct."
Hodge rapped the pipe on the palm of his hand. "Wouldn't surprise me if you doped it right all the way through, son. And I can't say I don't believe it. Sea's so full of surprises she never quite does surprise me."
He moved to the door, paused. "You think over that first mate's berth. I think this is one crew that would be proud to have a gold brick mate. Because you don't want to forget, son, that a gold brick is a pretty fine thing to have—if it's genuine clean through."