25

As it moved into deeper water, scouring the sloping sands in search of things to kill, the membranes in its head had sensed new sounds — unfamiliar, high-pitched, far away.  It had tracked the sounds, feeling them grow ever louder and more pronounced.

Finally, in water that had lost its gray-green gloom and become clear blue, it had come upon the sources of the sounds:  animals larger than it had ever seen, certainly too large to attack, dim shadows that rose and fell with ease, showing no vulnerability, no fear.

It had been about to turn away, to resume its hunt elsewhere, when it had noticed other things among the large animals:  smaller, quicker things, things that might be prey.  It had waited in the distance, moving just enough to keep pace.

Once, one of the new things had wandered close, and it had tried to catch it from behind — lunging forward with swift kicks and sweeping strokes — but the thing had sensed its approach and had fled, too fast to pursue.

Eventually, it had fallen behind, and soon the living things were out of sight, leaving only a tantalizing trail of sounds.

Now it hovered in midwater, its eyes glowing like white-hot coals as they probed the fathomless blue.

A sudden pressure wave startled it; it looked up, and it saw a black blur receding upward toward the light:  one of the smaller living things had returned, swooping by and continuing on its way.

Instantly alert, it willed adrenaline into its veins and lactic acid into its musculature.  It stayed as still as possible, moving its limbs barely enough to keep it from falling.

Another animal passed by, slowing briefly but not stopping.

It did not give chase, sensing that any attempt at pursuit would be futile.  It waited, feeling strength suffuse its body.

Another animal appeared, and this one came close, circling slowly and gazing curiously.

The creature hung motionless, wanting to appear harmless, dead.

The animal drew closer, shaking its head, expelling a stream of tiny bubbles.

The creature waited... and waited... and then there came an instant when the neurons in its brain formed a conclusion that possibility had become opportunity.

It struck, lashing out with steel claws.  The claws found softness.  The plunged deep into adipose flesh and curled in upon one another, fashioning a grip.

The other arm sprang forward, and its claws, too, found pinguid tissue.

The animal lurched backward.  Its mouth opened with an explosion of bubbles.  Its appendages thrashed, its body contorted as it struggled upward.

The creature expected the animal to retaliate, to defend itself, but it did not.  Now the creature knew that the animal was an alien here, could not survive here, so success could be achieved simply by holding it here.

After a few moments, the animal stopped struggling.  Its head lolled, and blood gushed from its torn flesh.

The creature began to feed.  The animal was covered with a thick layer of fat — nourishing, energizing, warming fat — and so it was positively buoyant, it would not sink.  Predator and prey were bonded together in still suspension.

As it ate, its peripheral vision detected other animals — larger animals, predators — attracted by the scent of blood and oil drifting in the current.

It surrounded its food and consumed it ravenously.

Most of the animal was edible.  Bones fell away into the abyss, and were surrounded by scavengers; bits of flesh escaped and were swarmed upon by schools of little fish.  There was a hard inedible object, which the creature tore free and cast away.  It floated upward, toward the surface.