8
It needed to feed, and it fed until it could feed no more. It drank, sucking ravenously, inefficiently, until its viscera refused to accept any more of the warm, salty fluid.
Once nourished, it was still disoriented and confused. There was motion and instability and, when it rose from its box, an alarming lack. Its gills fluttered, gasping for sustenance, but found none until it submerged again.
Nerve impulses fired randomly in its brain, crossing barren synapses, unable to sort responses. It was programmed with answers, but, in its frenzy, it was unable to find them.
It sensed that sustenance was nearby, and so, in desperation, it emerged again from the safety of its box and sensed its surroundings.
There, just there. The dark and welcoming world to which it must return.
It was bereft of knowledge but keen in instinct. It recognized few imperatives but was compelled to obey the ones it knew. Its survival depended on fuel and protection.
It had no powers of innovation, but it did have enormous strength, and that strength was what it called upon now.
Trailing streaks of mucous slime, it moved to the far end of the box and began to push. Though increasingly starved for oxygen, its brain was able to generate electrical impulses that charged its muscle fibers.
* * * * *
The bow of the ship buried itself in a trough, then the stern rose. The box slid forward, pushing the creature with it. But then the bow recovered and climbed toward the sky, and as the stern fell rapidly, there was a tiny interstice when the box was weightless.
The box moved aft, teetered on the edge of the fantail and tumbled into the sea.
As soon as it felt the cold, comforting confinement of salt water, its systems responded with instantaneous regeneration. The creature soared downward through the night sea, infused with the primitive perception that it was once again where it should be.
The ship pitched and slewed its way toward the lee of an island as a blood-spattered Nikon camera rolled back and forth across the afterdeck.