Free Flash Gordon 4 - The Time Trap of Ming XIII by Alex Raymond

body.
    The forest turned purple around him.

CHAPTER 11
    I n the dull glow that illuminated the inside of the air-scout, Zarkov saw only the instrument panel and his immediate surroundings in the cockpit.
    “I’ve been out cold,” he announced. “Didn’t the airscout turn turtle?”
    He glanced around.
    Yes. He knew it had turned over, but now it was right-side-up again.
    “My gyroscopic restabilizer,” he said proudly. “I forgot I’d invented it. It turned the airscout right-side-up after it crashed. It works!”
    He peered out through the forward porthole directly over the instrument console, but saw nothing. It was too dark and murky outside.
    “It’s not night. What happened? Did I land in the trees?”
    He got up and peered closer through the porthole. It was at that moment that he heard the gurgling.
    “I must have lost some brake fluid,” he muttered, turning and glancing down at the deck of the airscout. “Hmm, I don’t remember that half inch of water on the deck.”
    Then he realized that the gurgling was a continuous sound now, rising steadily in pitch.
    Startled, he stared at the porthole and reached up to flick on the exodermal spotlight mounted on the prow of the airscout.
    “As I feared,” he said heavily, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. “Fish. Mammals. A string of algae. And some floating plankton. I’m in the water.” He gave his beard a furious tug. “And sinking fast, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
    Zarkov stirred restlessly in the pilot seat. “Must have landed in one of those confounded swamps that dot the forest kingdom. Hit with a splash, but I was out cold. And by the looks of things, I’m sinking straight to the bottom!”
    The gurgling rose in pitch and volume.
    Zarkov felt his plyoboots suddenly fill with water as the incoming flood spilled over the tops. He lifted his feet and shook them.
    “Never thought about landing in the water,” he said thoughtfully. “Should have, though. Those early Earth astronauts always landed in the ocean. No way to get down gently in those days. Damn! I should have checked out those air-vent valves. I thought they were a-okay.”
    Zarkov moved the exodermal spotlight back and forth in the water. He saw the submarine life move upward as the airscout plummeted toward the bottom of the pond.
    “Hmm. I could blow the oxygen capsule to equalize the air pressure against the water pressure, but I’d give myself the bends or worse.” He shook his head. “Besides, I know I couldn’t get enough oxygen into the airscout to equalize its weight and send it to the top.”
    Zarkov stroked his beard slowly.
    The water was up to his waist now. And still the airscout sank further and further through the strange underwater world outside. Zarkov saw several starfish, and a deep-sea decapod with a quite lifelike face seemed to grin at him.
    He shook his head musingly. He was getting hyperventilated because of the increase in air pressure in the airscout. The area in which the air was now compressed was equal to about half the interior of the airscout . . . Zarkov felt the pressure and the heat generated by the compression.
    As he frowned thoughtfully, the airscout slammed to a stop and a great cloud of mud and slime rose before his eyes, obscuring the exodermal spotlight for a long moment.
    The airscout sank a little further in the black muck and came to a teetering rest.
    The spotlight penetrated the murk, which gradually settled. Zarkov saw that the mud came about to eye level.
    “The damned thing is stuck and stuck good,” he said matter-of-factly. “What do I do now?”
    He reached into his pocket for a neuropill and swallowed it. He chewed thoughtfully.
    “Bah! The damned things are supposed to calm you down. I’m not calm. I’m scared.” He blew air out of his cheeks and fidgeted nervously in the seat. “You’re a scientist, Zarkov, damn it! Why can’t you think of something?”
    The hatch? The hatch opened at the bottom and side