All language subtitles for The.Atomic.Submarine.1959.1080p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

It cost Commander Robert Peary

20 years of unremitting
hardship and misery

to reach the North Pole
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 Pole,

until a series of mysterious
undersea disasters

threatened to close the
Arctic route forever.

The decisive moment came
May 3rd 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 Pole itself.

According to the
official reports,

the next phase of the
life-and-death drama

occurred May 10 in Washington

at a hush-hush
super-secret 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.

Peculiar 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 do 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 Ju, 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?

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, rorry we had to
cut your leave short.

Yeah.

Come at the wrong time?

Yeah.

Will do.

Oh, it's you.

Yeah.

Hey, Griff, what's
the scoop about?

I mean, hauled out in
the middle of the night,

all leaves canceled.

We going to war, or what?

Now, 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. Neilson.

Dr. Neilson?

When did that happen?

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 11th,

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 Puget Sound,

and was headed for open sea.

Who the devil belongs
to this gear?

Uh, we do, Chief.

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 pig-boat
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 20th,

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.

Yeah, I might have a
son like that.

I don't get it.

What goes with you two?

I guess his father,
Skipper Neilson, 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 Neilson
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.
Neilson?

He's in here, sir.

Oh, uh, Tuttle, Powell,

would you men mind leaving
us alone for a few minutes?

Sure, Mr. Holloway.

Dr. Neilson.

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 drive
shaft 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 UFO 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 Pole, 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 3rd, 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 super-scale?

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.

So, a change of tactics.

Now the Tiger Shark cruised
almost over the North Pole,

waiting for the radio report

that would put the
plan into effect.

On July 13th, 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 TDC,
range about seven miles.

Reef, arm atomic warheads.

Load tubes one and two,
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 one and two loaded.

Outer doors open.

Ready to fire.

Stand by.

Range, eight miles.

Range, 7 3/4 miles.

Zero minus 10,

nine, eight, seven,

six, five, four,

three, two, one,

target, zero.

Fire one.

Number one, fired.

Fire two.

Number two, fired.

How are they running?

Hot, straight and normal.

Number one missed.

How could it?

We're dead on target with
a homing fish.

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.
Neilson'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 saw-teeth 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.
Neilson.

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.

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 me!

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 Pole,
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 ICBM,

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 ICBM 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.

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.