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I have always been glad that the details of that ghastly head became visible gradually: viewed suddenly, in full relief, it was a sight that might well have threatened the reason of any man.

The serpent’s mouth was lined with a triple row of long, fang-like teeth, tilted gullet-ward at a sharp angle, and the breathing holes were elevated to form warty excrudescences near the end of the snoutish upper jaw. Long colorless tentacles fringed the horrible mouth: barbels that writhed incessantly, as though they sought food for the rapacious jaws they guarded. From a point slightly above and to the rear of the tiny, ruby eyes, two slim and graceful antennae, iridescent and incongruously beautiful, rose twice the height of a man. Like the antennae of a butterfly, they were surmounted by tiny knobs, and were in constant motion.

The whole head was armored with great plates or scales, dark green in color; and apparently of tremendous thickness. A short distance behind the head were two tremendous reddish-brown fins, with strong supporting spines that seemed to terminate in retractile claws. In the water, these fins would undoubtedly be of tremendous value in swimming and in fighting, but on land they seemed rather useless. Aside from a rudimentary dorsal fin, a series of black, stubby spines, connected by a barely visible webbing, the thing had no other external evidences of its marine origin.

“You’ve been restless for action, Mr. Correy,” I commented grimly. “I believe this chap will give us all you could desire.”

Correy, still staring down into the disk, fascinated by the terrible details there, shook his head.

“It shouldn’t be such a stiff battle, sir,” he said. “The ray will make quick work of him once we’re within distance.”

“Yes–and of the Kabit and all on board,” I reminded him. “If he has the strength his size would indicate, he would crush the liner in his death agonies, or, failing that, would heave it about so violently that those within would be maimed or killed outright. This is a case for cunning, and not might.”

“I think, sir, both cunning and might will be needed,” said Correy soberly, looking up from the disk. “Cunning alone will not dispose of that lad. Have you any plans?”

“Rough plans only; we’ll have to develop them as we go along. We don’t know what we’ll be up against. We’ll land a safe distance away, and a small expeditionary force will attack as it sees fit; probably, dividing itself into two or three units. The Ertak will be manned by a skeleton crew and ready to take any necessary action to protect itself or, if possible, to aid any of the expeditionary parties.”

“What weapons, sir?” asked Correy, his eyes gleaming. “I’ll give the orders now!”

“It’s too soon for that; it’ll be an hour at least before we land. But I believe every man, including officers, should be armed with pistols, at least six atomic bombs, and there should be a field disintegrator-ray unit for each party. And each member must be equipped with a menore; communication will be by menore only. You might call Mr. Kincaide and Mr. Hendricks, and we’ll hold a little council of war.”

“Right, sir!” said Correy, and picked up the microphone. Kincaide and Hendricks were in the room almost within the minute.

We laid our plans as best we could, but they weren’t very definite. Only a few things were certain.

Somehow, we must induce the monster to release his grasp on the Kabit. We could take no action against the serpent until the big liner and her passengers were safe. It was a desperate mission; an enterprise not of the Ertak, but of individuals.

“One thing is certain, sir,” commented Correy, taking over by visual navigation, and reducing speed still more, “you must remain in charge of the ship. You will be needed–“

“I understand your motives, Mr. Correy,” I interrupted, “but I do not agree with you. As Commander of the Ertak, I shall command the activities of her men. You will have charge of one landing force, and Mr. Hendricks of another. You, Mr. Kincaide, I shall ask to remain in charge of the ship.”