Free Writers of the Future, Volume 29 by L. Ron Hubbard Page A

As Lester moved away from me, the cluster divided and half followed him. I checked the area between us and the density of sea life was much lower. We took a little jog around the shelf and the plankton followed.
    As the probe reached the ocean floor, we tuned into its transmissions with our helmet displays. It had moved to an area rich in plants and animals that surrounded a series of thermal vents. The sea floor was covered with iridescent shelled creatures, blood-red tubeworms, animals that resembled plants, and small scurrying things that ducked under the sand as light from the probe struck them. The sea teemed with swimming creatures in various shapes and sizes. The probe moved slowly, careful not to disturb the native life. It reported a cloud of plankton hovering around it. Larger animals kept their distance. We decided to see what the animals’ reaction would be to a more aggressive approach, and ordered the probe to pick up one of the slow, shelled creatures on the sea floor. It picked the creature up gently and turned it over to view its underside.
    All hell broke loose. Every creature in the surrounding ocean converged on the probe. The creature was snatched from the probe’s grasp. Claws, tentacles and teeth grabbed the probe’s arms and pulled it toward a thermal vent. The animals took turns holding the probe so that none of them was cooked. The probe tried unsuccessfully to free itself without injuring the animals. Its internal temperature rose dangerously high. I finally ordered it to do an internal self-destruct. The probe melted its guts so that nothing useful could be learned from them.
    The incident spooked us. We headed back to the ship. Partway there, the ship told us that a large bubble of superheated water was headed for the ice floe. Lester took off running like a man possessed. Seems he’d figured out how to use his cleats.
    We had barely entered the ship when the bubble hit. Ice shattered. The ship sank. A cloud of plankton engulfed it.
    I yelled an order and the ship shot us into space with maximum antigrav.
    We orbited the planet and reviewed the ship’s sensor data. The bubble of superheated water was unnatural. A group of plankton had formed a container to trap the water and carried it to the surface. The process had killed millions of them.
    â€œIt all looks intelligent,” Lester said, “but where does the intelligence originate?”
    â€œThere’s no indication of a single source,” I said. “Look at the distribution of life. There are clumps of larger life forms with streams of plankton connecting them. I think the ocean life is one distributed intelligence.”
    â€œThat’s capable of defending itself,” Lester finished.
    â€œRight. And that may explain the extinct terrestrial life: if something on the surface threatened the undersea life, they may have adjusted the environment so that it was hostile to the threat.”
    â€œSo how do we classify it?” Lester asked.
    â€œWe don’t. We leave that to the eggheads. Our job is to report it.”
    I ran the ship close to the planet’s sun and baked it rotisserie style, in case any of the plankton was still alive on the outside of our ship. I did not want to take these guys home.
    -5-
    W e headed back to Base and waited. On this layover, my best friend Jack and his partner Diego were also waiting for a mission. I’d known Jack for years. Jack had nineteen missions. He was the only Scout who had anywhere near as many replacement parts as I did.
    Diego arrived at Base a few months before Lester. Diego was a scrappy little guy. He liked to play a mean game of slap tag with Lester. Diego would sneak up behind Lester in the gym and smack him one good above the waistline where the skin is really sensitive. Then he’d run off trailing an insane, cackling giggle.
    Lester would chase him around the exercise area cursing like a proper miner’s son. Lester was generally too