All language subtitles for The.Atomic.Submarine.1959

It cost Commander Robert Peary...

20 years of unremitting
hardship and misery...

to reach the North Role
finally in 1909.

It would have astounded Peary to learn
that by the late 1950s and early '60s...

the vast, frozen
top of the world he pioneered...

had become a vital highway
for world travel and commerce.

Not just in the skies...

but also deep under the ice...

in the frigid five-million-square-mile
depths of the Arctic Ocean.

Here, great passenger-and cargo-carrying
atomic submarines...

glided by the dozens
back and forth across the Role...

until a series of
mysterious undersea disasters...

threatened to close
the Arctic route forever.

The decisive moment came
May 3 at 1315 hours...

when the undersea atomic liner,
Sturgeon, largest of them all...

reached 87 degrees, 10 minutes
north latitude...

only a few miles
from the North Role itself.

According to the official reports...

the next phase
of the life-and-death drama...

occurred May 10 in Washington...

at a hush-hush supersecret meeting...

of the Arctic theater war room.

Gentlemen, this is the man
we've been waiting for.

The skipper of
the atom killer sub, Tiger Shark.

Commander Dan Wendover.

This is Justin Murdock,
secretary of defense.

- Mr. Murdock.
- Commander.

And I know you've heard a lot
of Dr. Clifford Kent, Dan.

- Doctor.
- Commander.

Dr. Kent had a lot to do with the
development and design of your boat.

Sir Ian Hunt just flew in from London.

The Dr. Hunt, winner of
the Nobel Prize for oceanography?

Oh, let's just say I took the bow
for a team of very brilliant associates.

Uh, sit down.

Gentlemen, to begin,
let me read you just one line...

from a detailed staff study
prepared for the Joint Chiefs.

"In our judgment,
these Arctic disasters...

may prove the gravest emergency
in all history."

Any comments on that statement?

A bit fanciful, isn't it, sir?

Possibly.

Let me read you, uh,
a partial list of observed phenomena.

"Destruction of four surface vessels.
Largest, 10,000 tons.

"Radioactivity in Arctic waters,
flow ice and bergs.

"Reculiar television images
preceding each distress call.

"Seven polar atom subs...

vanished without a trace. "

"Fanciful," did you say, uh, Sir Ian?

And now, Dan, we come to you.

You skipper the Tiger Shark...

the most advanced,
the deadliest killer sub in the fleet.

Right now she's undergoing emergency
around-the-clock modification...

in the Bremerton Navy Yard.

The orders call for special observation
and testing instruments here...

removal of all but two atomic
torpedoes...

special launching equipment
for water-to-air ballistic missiles...

and a special escape hatch
in the keel for the Lungfish.

The Lungfish?

Yes. Uh, a deep exploration device,
sort of an animated diving bell.

The mission of the Tiger Shark...

is to hunt down and identify the cause
of these Arctic disasters.

If humanly possible...

you will remove it.

Not that I don't think
Lieutenant Commander Holloway...

is the finest exec
in the entire sub fleet,Julie...

and not that he isn't
the best friend that I have -

Come on, Dave.
You talk too much.

Now be quiet, little mother.
I - I feel behooved to warn you...

our friend Reef is no less than the
number one howl in the entire sub wolf
pack.

Nuclear powered.

And when it comes to women-Well...

he has got a built-in sonar detector
that -

Dave, you know you're exaggerating, old
buddy-buddy. You know it. Yes, you are.

You know, on most boats,
a certain loyalty exists...

between the exec
and his navigation and firing officer...

but in the case of Lieutenant David
Milburn of the Tiger Shark and myself-

But su - She's a nice girl.

Uh, I've seen you work.

I think she deserves a fighting chance.

Helen, I appeal to you.

Dave, look at me.
I'm the mother of your three children.

Will you please
take me home to them at once?

There you are.
Just drop in anytime.

Don't bother to call.Just -Just drop in.
That's my way of life.

Dave is exaggerating, you know.

I mean, a man spends
three months in a deep freeze...

it'll take his whole leave
just to thaw him out.

By that time,
he's ready to report back.

It won't take me long to defrost.
Not around you.

What was I saying
about thawing out icebergs?

Yeah, you, uh -
You never can tell about icebergs.

Only show one-ninth above water.

After that kiss,
I'd say that's about right.

- Do you feel anything?
- Are you kidding?

No, I mean that this is
just the beginning of something.

That we didn't just meet accidentally.

Oh, that's original.

Doesn't the next chorus
go something like...

"Let's not waste
one precious golden moment.

Any second there could be
a knock on the door and -"

Well, I've seen stranger things happen.

It happens all the time to heroes
on television, plays, motion pictures.

The hero gets his leave canceled,
and he's -

And she spends the rest of her life
wishing that she'd -

Oh, honey.

Let's not waste
one precious moment then.

What's that pounding?

Need I say more?

Mmm.

Reef, look.

- Oh, no.
- What's wrong?

What is it?

Oh, no.

Reef.

- They caught you too, huh?
- At the worst possible moment.

Tomorrow's Janie's birthday.

Poor little kid's been looking forward
two whole months to having her daddy
home.

- Now -
- That's the worst possible moment?

What could be worse
than disappointing a little girl?

Disappointing a big girl.

Julie?

Really tough, old buddy.

Oh, really tough.

Skipper, I thought
you were going to Washington.

I did.Just got back. Reef, I want you
to meet a couple of our passengers.

Sir Ian Hunt and Dr. Clifford Kent.
My exec, Commander Richard Holloway.

- Glad to know you, sir.
- How do you do?

- Dr. Kent. Met you before.
- Yes indeed, Commander.

You gentlemen are going with us.
What for?

We'll discuss that later. Roberts.

- Have Chief Griffin report to me
as soon as the crew's aboard.
- Yes, sir.

- Watkins.
- Yes, sir.

- Will you show these gentlemen to their
quarters? - Aye, aye, sir. This way.

Well. Sorry we had to
cut your leave short.

- Yeah.
- Come at the wrong time?

Yeah.

Will do.

- Oh, it's you.
- Yeah.

Griff, what's the scoop? Hauled out in
the middle of the night, all leaves
canceled.

We going to war, or what?

Don't you worry, Chester. When the
skipper wants you to know what's going
on, he'll tell ya. Okay?

- I don't like it. I mean, this is all
mighty funny. - Ah, isn't it, though?

Suppose you get aboard anyway.

- I don't like it.
- What did you say?

I like it. I like it.

Hey.

Well, skipper, I think I'll stow my
gear.

- Well, Reef, I got some bad news for
ya. - Oh, yeah?

- You're gonna have to share quarters
this trip. - Who with?

- Dr. Neilsen.
- Dr. Neilsen? When did that happen?

- Huh?
- Oh, it's all right. We're old friends.

Dave, stand by to shove off as soon as
Griff reports the crew aboard.

Right, skipper.

Well, looks like we're gonna
share quarters, skipper.

Been a long -

Carl.

You?

Oh, of course. I should have suspected
when I heard that "doctor."

- I thought it was your father.
- It was supposed to be.

- Dad had a heart attack two days ago.
- He what?

It was mild. He'll be all right. But it
was out of the question his coming
along.

And they thought you could
replace the skipper, huh?

There was no choice.

Dad and I developed
the Lungfish together.

Except for him, I'm the only one
qualified to dive in it.

- You could have trained somebody else.
- Not in two days.

Look, do you think I wanted to come?

If it didn't mean so much to Dad,
proving his depth explorer, I certainly
wouldn't be here.

That I can believe.

The Tiger Shark left
her dock at Bremerton at 0335 hours...

the morning of May 11...

on what was to prove the strangest, most
fearful voyage ever made by a
submarine...

atomic or otherwise.

Simultaneously with
the Shark's departure...

and with his crew still in the dark
concerning their secret, fateful
mission...

Skipper Wendover made
the first notation in the log.

The men would remain unbriefed
for two hours...

until the Tiger Shark
cleared Ruget Sound...

and was headed for open sea.

Who the devil belongs to this gear?

Uh, we do, Chief.

Oh. You two guys, huh?

And just what do you do around here?

Underwater demolition. Seaman First
Class Powell, and I'm Carney.

Yeah, I know.
So you're frogmen.

Yeah, we're off tin cans.

We've, uh, looked the pigboat over
from, uh, fore to aft...

but can't seem to find an empty locker,
uh, to store our stuff in.

An empty locker?
In a sub?

Are you kiddin'?

This whole deal is makin'
less and less sense to me.

What are frogmen
doin' aboard the Tiger Shark?

Following orders,
like everyone else in the navy.

Beats me.
But orders are orders.

Yeah, well, uh, in the meantime, where
do you want us to stash these gizmos?

Come on.

Shortly before dawn...

the Tiger Shark, running submerged
at better than 30 knots...

had left the sound behind...

and was headed for open sea.

Here are our orders, Reef.

Look 'em over while I fill in the crew.

Now hear this.
This is the captain speaking.

I know you're wondering
about all the mystery.

Well, our job had to be
kept absolutely secret.

Our mission is to find out what caused
the disasters under the Arctic ice.

Once we cross the Arctic Circle, any
command you hear will be the real thing.

Please remember it.

That's about it.

Now you know as much as I
or anybody else does, for that matter.

Oh, incidentally,
I assured Washington...

that this was
the best sub crew in the fleet.

I know you won't make a liar out of me.

Carry on.

That's it.

What do you think?

I think I should have joined the air
force.

A week later, the Tiger Shark was still
running due north at cruising speed.

So far, the voyage was routine,
uneventful.

But the nearer they came
to the Arctic Circle...

the more the tension increased...

the more tiny irritations
were magnified into bitter feuds...

the more the crewmen pondered
their possible fate.

On the morning of May 20...

the Tiger Shark crossed the Arctic
Circle into the critical area.

You're always asking me
why I stay a bachelor.

There goes one of the best reasons
I can think of.

- Huh?
- Yeah. I might have a son like that.

I don't get it.
What goes with you two?

I guess his father, Skipper Neilsen,
retired before you enrolled at the
academy, didn't he?

I guess.

One of the finest men and officers
alive.

A real hero
in the best sense of the word.

World War II.

Taught engineering and design
at the academy.

- Fought like a demon for atomic subs.
- So?

So, when his only son dropped out of
school, began making statements...

all sounding like borrowed propaganda -

"Ban the atomic test."
"Junk the nuclear subs."

"Spend the military budget for peace."

Well, it just about
broke the old man's heart.

Then when the newspapers picked it up...

called Carl the honest, sincere son
of a warmongering father...

well, Captain Neilsen
resigned from the navy.

Oh, he still keeps his hand in
with projects like the Lungfish...

but it broke him all the same.

Have, uh - Have you talked to Carl?

Tried to get his side?

His side?

He's all front with no back.

How can he have a side?

Either of you men seen Dr. Neilsen?

He's in here, sir.

Oh, uh, Tuttle, Powell, would you men
mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?

Sure, Mr. Holloway.

Dr. Neilsen.

What is it?

You are out.

This came for you.

- My father?
- Dead?

No. As a matter of fact,
he's a lot better.

Just got out of the hospital.

What did you mean I'm out? - Your father
can be in Nome, Alaska tomorrow. We have
two choices.

We can ask them to bring him out
by helicopter and take you off...

or we can put the Shark
back into Nome.

You trade school boys
are all alike, aren't you?

Anybody who doesn't think like a little
gold-braided puppet is ipso facto a
coward.

You said it. I didn't.

Well, wearing a uniform doesn't bestow
an automatic monopoly on courage,
Commander.

It just so happens I'm not a coward -
physical or mental.

And before I'd risk my father's life -

- We're all risking our lives.
- That may be...

but Dad stays where he is,
and I'm staying here.

Oh, you are a mixed-up oddball,
aren't you?

Well, perhaps. But the idea of
willingly going to school...

to spend my life at a Paleozoic pastime
that should have disappeared with the
thunder lizards -

I'm referring to war-

that strikes me as the worst cowardice
of all - being spiritually yellow.

- You mean nothing's worth fighting for?
- Peace.

The dignity of man,
destiny of human spirit.

Now, you show me a man who says you win
these fighting wars, and I'll show you
an idiot.

Oh, Carl, you talk like
so many young men I've - I've known.

You talk well.
Literately, intelligently-

even brilliantly sometimes.

But you're all talk.
What do you do about your ideas...

your ideals?

You mentioned my uniform.
These are my work clothes.

They represent what I'm willing to do...

how hard I'm willing to work
for what I believe in.

I doubt your willingness for anything...

except talk about what you're against.

That talk darn near killed your father.

Mr. Holloway to the Conn, please.

The instruments have all gone crazy,
and take a look at the screen.

Incredible. Absolutely incredible.

- What hit us?
- It doesn't seem possible...

but could it be
an electric storm center?

Underwater?

High-intensity arcs
will burn submerged...

and millions of volts discharged
in random directions.

Is there any way out of this?

Seems all around.

What about down?

- I don't know.
- Take her down.

- Maximum angle, maximum depth.
- Aye, aye, sir.

Take her down.
Maximum angle, maximum depth.

Sir Ian has evolved a theory.

At first I wasn't about to buy it...

but we have eliminated one by one
every other logical explanation.

Mmm. It is rather fantastic.

But, uh...

here...

is a chart of the Arctic region.

On it I've plotted every instant of
these peculiar phenomena...

the sinkings, electrical storms...

our own experiences.

Now, uh...

here is where we encountered
the electrical storm.

The Sturgeon was lost about here.

The others here, here...

and here.

- Do you see it?
- See what?

The pattern. The pattern.

Each incident occurred almost precisely
1,000 statute miles from the Pole.

A line drawn through
the points of occurrence...

makes almost a complete circle
around the Pole.

Which adds up to what, Sir Ian?

I cannot accept the idea
that these phenomena were...

either random or natural.

I believe they were motivated by...

some sort of intelligence.

Do you mean that somebody is -

I didn't mean to imply
a human intelligence.

Well, what on earth
kind of intelligence is it, Sir Ian?

Oh, perhaps...
it's not an intelligence on Earth.

Perhaps it's an intelligence
from beyond the Earth.

What can we do about it, sir?

I've been thinking about that.

As you see, these occurrences
were on this line...

almost a perfect circle
around the Pole.

However, there may be
a significant break in that ring...

here in the area of the Queen Victoria
Sea near Franz Josef Land...

north of Murmansk and Finland.

Supposing your theorizing is correct...

then this could be
the next danger point.

Yes. Yes.

But supposing we, uh,
anticipated a little.

Supposing...

the Tiger Shark was
lurking there, waiting.

He could be right.

We'll chart our course right straight
across the Pole and bring us here.

The Queen Victoria Sea.

So, swiftly, implacably...

the Tiger Shark moved across
the top of the world...

toward a rendezvous with what?

We've been running due south
along the 30th degree of longitude.

By my reckoning we should be about here,
just short of our planned position.

- And that should be -
- Just about the critical point,
if we're on the right track.

- Prepare to surface. Flank speed.
- Aye.

Prepare to surface.
Flank speed.

Mr. Milburn.
Quick, look at this.

Skipper, Reef!

Those chunks of ice
are coming right at us. Dive! Dive!

Dive! Dive!

- Determine extent of damage.
- Aft to torpedo room, report.

This is Griff, Captain.

Moderate leak in overhead plates.
Damage to main driveshaft housing.

Forced to full stop.

- We're dead in the water.
- Captain.

Whatever it is, it certainly can travel.

Course and speed.

Speed, about 22 knots.

Course, due north.

Directly toward the Pole.

- Are you two flounders about set?
- We're ready.

Now, try and remember, you're not
going out to rehearse a water ballet.

- We need a damage report.
- I never should have volunteered.

If I had enough sense, I would have -

Hey, uh, look out for the sharks, huh?

A pure oval shape...

with this cyclops-like eye,
or turret, on top.

I'd estimate its diameter at,
oh, 300 feet.

No discernible orifices.

The eye of Cyclops.

What did you say, Sir Ian?

Just musing about
our one-eyed adversary...

and the Homer legend.

The Cyclopes were
the sons of heaven...

who forged the thunderbolts
thrown by Zeus.

Our own cyclops throws
quite a thunderbolt itself.

I knew there was something familiar.

Take a look.

This picture was taken by
an amateur astronomer over New Mexico.

I've had it since I served
on the Air Force Evaluation Board...

for U.F.O. Reports.

"Unidentified flying objects."

Then this is a flying saucer.

That was the popular designation, yes.

Weren't all the sightings in the sky,
not underwater?

This would explain why there were
never any reports of landings.

It's quite possible that whoever or...

whatever inhabits this craft...

is not a land creature at all...

but some form of marine life.

That would make our little green men
actually little green fish.

Undersea flying saucers.

- Excuse me, skipper.
- Yeah, Griff?

All internal repairs completed, and
frogmen report exterior damage minor.

- Good.
- Then we can get under way, huh?

- Right, sir. - Dave, you plotted the
course of Cyclops?

Then that's our course.

Where he goes,
we go until we get him.

Or perhaps until he gets us.

So the Tiger Shark began
relentlessly stalking her space enemy.

Up to the Role, back to the Arctic
Circle, again and again.

A week, a fortnight, a month.

Never a glimpse of their enemy,
but there were reports.

New disasters,
new ships and lives lost.

Invariably, the Tiger Shark
made for the scene...

only to arrive after Cyclops had left.

For all its desperation,
the pursuit seemed fruitless.

And then on July 3,
Dr. Kent and Sir Ian...

held an urgent discussion
with Reef and the skipper.

Why does Cyclops invariably
turn to the Pole between attacks?

Never two in succession.

Always away and back,
away and back.

We've asked ourselves that
over and over a thousand times.

But answers are what we need,
not more questions.

We think now we have them.

We took for granted
his source of energy was nuclear.

But suppose it isn't at all.

What if it is magnetic?

Yes. Yes.

We harness energy on a small scale
by cutting magnetic lines of force.

Supposing Cyclops does it
on a superscale?

The North Pole is the positive end of
the biggest magnet of all: the Earth
itself.

What you're getting at
is that you think our saucer friend...

must return to the Pole regularly
to recharge his batteries.

That may be oversimplifying it.
But, uh -

Now, uh,
our present tactics are useless.

But suppose we place ourselves
between Cyclops and the Pole.

In such a way as to prevent him
returning to the Pole to...

as you put it,
recharge his batteries.

If we are lucky enough to catch him
with his power depleted.

Then we polish him off
with an atomic fish.

We wait till the next report of trouble,
and then we lie in wait for him...

right in his path,
and bushwhack him.

- "Bushwhack"? - Yes, it's an American
tactical expression.

Oh.

So, a change of tactics.

Now the Tiger Shark cruised
almost over the North Role...

waiting for the radio report
that would put the plan into effect.

On July 13,
at 1600 hours, it came.

- We got it, Reef.
- Cyclops?

Sounds like a distress signal from a
small freighter between Ellesmere Island
and Greenland.

- One Mayday, then nothing.
- Where's the skipper?

Already in the Conn.

- We're here.
- All right.

This is where Cyclops
knocked off the freighter.

This is the way he has to
head for home - the Pole.

Here we are, right in his path.

Sonar and TV-scan the bottom. Find a
good place to hide and lie in wait for
him...

maybe a cave or a valley.

Rig for silent running.

As soon as we're on the bottom,
secure everything that hums or buzzes.

- I want absolute silence.
- Very well.

Rig for silent running.

Hour upon hour, the Tiger Shark lay in
its deep-six ambush.

The Arctic depths were as still and
silent as an uninhabited world.

And then at 0600 hours -

Skipper, Dr. Kent.

- What is it?
- That's him.

It has to be.

Range: 22 miles.

Speed: I give it 14 knots.

His radiation level is very low.

That would confirm our theory
about having to return to the Pole.

It better be correct.

Get me a setup on the T.D.C.
Range: about seven miles.

Reef, arm atomic warheads. Load Tubes 1
and 2, and report to the Conn.

- Sounds like we mean business.
- Yeah.

Griff, you arm number two.
I'll handle number one.

Load one and two.
Open outer doors.

Stand by for action.

Range: now 15 miles.

- You sure it's Cyclops?
- Take a look.

Range: 14.5 miles.

Griff to skipper.
Tubes 1 and 2 loaded.

Outer doors open.
Ready to fire.

Stand by.

Range: eight miles.

Range: 73/ 4 miles.

Zero minus 10...

nine, eight...

seven, six, five...

four, three, two...

one, target zero.

Fire 1.

- Number one, fired.
- Fire 2.

Number two, fired.

- How are they running?
- Hot, straight and normal.

Number one missed.

How could it? We're dead on the target
with the homing first.

- What's that?
- A mass of jelly-like stuff came out
of the thing and caught our torpedo.

It must function like
a degaussing field.

We'll never get a torpedo through that.

Maybe not a torpedo.

Blow all main ballast tanks.
Reactor room, stand by.

As soon as we're off the bottom,
I want all ahead, flank.

- What course, skipper?
- Right at our one-eyed friend.

- Right at him?
- That's what I said.

- But what can we accomplish?
- We can ram him.

You've weighed the consequences,
Captain, the lives involved?

Doctor, I've weighed the destruction
that the Cyclops has done already...

and what he'll do in the future
unless we stop him right now.

- There must be some other means.
- What other means?

If the Tiger Shark can't stop him,
no power on Earth can.

Now brace yourselves.

Sound the collision alarm.

We got him, skipper.
Drove right into him.

Look at that. Speared him like a fish.

We did it, boys.
Dove right through the saucer's side.

Reactor room,
give me all reverse, full.

We're stuck tight.

Skipper, take a look
at this depth gauge.

180 fathoms?
We can't be sinking that fast.

It's our screws, skipper. At our
declination angle, running in reverse...

they're pulling the shark
and cyclops right to the bottom.

And we're at safe
maximum depth already.

- Full stop.
- Full stop.

Hours later, the two titanic craft were
still locked together...

in an apparent death grip...

on the bottom of the Arctic Ocean...

nearly 1200 feet below the surface.

Well, anybody got any ideas?

Anything's better than lying here.

Suppose there's some kind
of atmosphere inside the Cyclops.

What do you mean?

Well, maybe we could get inside
the saucer. We could use our torches...

- to cut the Shark loose.
- That's all very well, young man.

How would one go about
getting inside Cyclops?

Through the eye
using the depth explorer.

Yes. The explorer was built
to operate at even greater depths.

Yeah, but suppose there isn't
any atmosphere inside the saucer.

Well, then the idea's no good.
But we're no worse off than we are now.

- You've gotta let us try, skipper.
- Us?

Reef and I could take the explorer down,
clamp it onto the eye -

No. You can't, but I can.

I can deliver you to the eye.
Then you -

A little out of your line, isn't it? Why
don't you stay aboard and make a speech?

Maybe you could get them
to ban flying saucers.

Listen, Holloway. However our ideas
disagree, I've said before, I'm not a
coward.

And it happens you have no choice.
Either I take you down there in the
Lungfish...

- or you don't get there.
- I'd sooner swim.

- That's enough, both of you.
- Very well, sir.

No use making the odds
any longer than they are.

It so happens that Dr. Neilsen's right.

Get the explorer in the air lock
and prepare for launching.

- Better take Carney and Powell with
you. - The frogmen?

That's right. Their underwater
experience might make them invaluable.

- You'll need sidearms.
- Sidearms? The saucer's dead.

- You hope.
- We better get ready.

Girls, you go everywhere I go.

All right, Carl.
There's still time.

- You wanna show me how?
- Get in.

Ready to open air lock door, Captain.

Go ahead, Griff.

- What now?
- What do you say, Doctor?

- Shall we take a chance?
- That's what we came for.

You all stay here.
I'm gonna take a look inside.

Not alone, you're not.

Better breathe your oxygen,
just in case.

- Air, pure air, under pressure.
- That's a relief.

Well, we won't need these tanks.

Good luck, men.

All right, let's go.

The bow drilled through her,
but she sealed herself right up.

Yeah, there's our problem.

The sawteeth of the ram
are caught in the break.

Now, if we can cut it away,
the Shark can pull herself loose.

- I think you're right.
- Powell, go back to Dr. Neilsen.

Tell him to report to the skipper.

All right, let's get to work.

We read you, Doctor.
Go ahead.

They're inside the Cyclops.
It's full of breathable air.

- Wonderful.
- That's great, Doctor.

Reef thinks that he can clear the
Shark's bow so we can pull ourselves
loose.

What's it like inside the Cyclops?
This is a priceless opportunity to -

Doctor, tell Reef to make sure that
you're in the clear before we make
another move.

Right. Over.

- We may get out of this yet.
- Skipper.

- Could you take a look here?
- What's wrong, Griff?

The inertial navigation system
must've been knocked out in the crash.

We're dead in the water,
but it indicates we're moving.

- That's impossible. - The radiation
level from the saucer is rising.

What direction does the system indicate?

Due north at five knots.

No, six.

Toward the Pole.

But that Cyclops is dead.
We killed it, didn't we?

Beats me.

- Dave.
- Yeah?

Do you hear anything?

I don't hear anything.
You've been down here too long.

You better go topside and rest.

Strange you don't hear it.

- Reef.
- Huh?

You know something?
I think it's getting lighter in here.

Yeah. Yeah, it is.

If I didn't know better...

I'd swear we were moving.

Well, let's get back to work,
and maybe we will be soon.

I'm getting an impression of movement,
Captain. Is that possible?

We get the same reaction up here.

Now they're feeling it down below.

The radiation level, constantly rising.

As we near the Pole.

There's got to be an explanation.

I think there is.

I believe our friend Cyclops
is returning to life.

Commander Holloway, listen.

- Dave. - Commander Holloway, make no
resistance.

Did you hear it?

That sound again?

This time it was a voice.
It called my name.

Look, why don't you go topside?

You will see-that avails nothing.

Where do you think
the sound was coming from?

Down there somewhere.

Carney! Carney, help me!

Carney! Help me, Carney! Help Mel

Carney! Carney, help!

Remove your weapons, Commander.

And come here below.

- Come where?
- To me, here.

That voice again?

It wants me to go alone.

Oh, it does, does it?

You better stay here.

So, Commander Holloway, as you
Earth inhabitants would express it...

we meet, face-to-face.

That's a face?

Point of view is everything.

To us, your form of life is ugly...

as we appear to you.

Tell me something.

Why is it that I can hear you
and the others can't?

You do not hear me.

Our individual brain frequencies
are now attuned...

and we exchange wave-thoughts.

You mean, extrasensory perception?

Whatever your Earth term may be...

the principle is ancient
and very simple.

It is not necessary for you to speak.

Your thought response will suffice.

My mission is to study various
solar systems and planets.

Select the most suitable
for colonization.

For horrors like yourself?

Of course. It may interest you to know I
have visited hundreds of other worlds...

and of all of them,
your Earth seems most suitable.

Swell.

Your friend was to remain where he was.

- He did.
- I am afraid not.

- Dave.
- What's going on in here, lad? What -

Stand away from him, Commander.

He wants you back.

So this is your headquarters.
Well, you've sunk your last ship, you -

Why not me?
What am I, the closing act?

On the contrary.
I want you unharmed, perfect.

Why?

I have selected you to return with me...

along with several other
specimens for study.

We will examine you and the others...

discover desirable features
to incorporate in our Earth colonizers.

And you just build them in, huh?

Of course.
Evolution is much too slow a process.

On Earth, you build
with inanimate material.

We employ living tissue.

This space vehicle, for example.

It is a living thing.

When damaged-
you would say "wounded"-

it immediately heals itself.

Oh, that's why no water
leaked inside when we rammed you.

Of course. But it is time
to begin the return voyage.

To navigate,
won't you have to see your way?

Obviously.

It'll be rough!

- Back to the Shark, right now.
- What about Dave and the others?

Fortunes of war.

Skipper, this is Reef
from the depth explorer.

- Pull loose!
- Right, Reef.

Reactor room, get me all back.
Emergency.

- Well, what about the -
- Skipper, we didn't kill it.

And if that thing ever gets back
to where it came from...

the Earth is doomed and everybody on it.

We've pulled loose, Captain. We're free!

There it goes.

Headed straight for the Role, 50 knots.

Nothing we can do.

Excuse me, Captain.
There may be one last desperate chance.

What's that?

It's possible I could adapt one of the
torpedo guidance systems to the
I.C.B.M...

so it would home on the saucer
when he rises from the Pole.

What about the time?

The Cyclops will have to linger
at the Pole to recharge its power banks.

Well, it's worth a chance.

Reef, take over as navigator and see if
you can find us an air hole in the ice.

- Let's go.
- Very well.

Adapt a complicated guidance
system to a huge ballistic rocket.

Convert it to a water-to-air
interceptor missile.

It was foolish.
It was insane. It was fantastic.

But it was their only hope...

and the Earth's only hope.

- Ready?
- As ready as we can be.

I'll report to the skipper.

Skipper...

we found our hole in the ice.

What's the corrected bearing
to the magnetic pole?

357 degrees.

Prepare the I.C.B.M. for firing.

Well, that's about all we can do until
our space friend decides to blast off.

Skipper, I think it's -

Fire! Fire!

Attention, all hands.

We got him.

Cigarette?

Ah, they're so remote, the stars.

- Hmm.
- Cold and beautiful.

- Now I wonder.
- Yeah?

Which is the one?
The one we have to worry about?

Well, we have enough ills
here to worry about.

But maybe,just maybe...

when their ship doesn't return, they'll
decide not to come here after all.

But if they do?

- Well.
- Oh, I wouldn't worry.

Knowing we have boats
like the Tiger Shark...

men like you, skipper...

Dave, Sir Ian, Kent,
and my father-

And his egghead son. We'll give 'em
a rough reception, won't we?

You know, I think I lost my little
black book on that lousy thing.