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Seton was first to speak.

“Switch on the chant, loud as you can get it. Do it now, no time for discussion.”

Green seemed momentarily to have lost his composure, so Banks stepped in and took charge.

“You heard the man,” he said to the operator. “Start the chanting. It might be our only hope. And while you’re at it, arm the torpedoes or whatever you call them.”

The chanting rose to overpower the wail of the beast.

He sleeps and he dreams with the fish far below.

He dreams and he sings in the dark.

“Ten miles and closing,” the radar operator said.

He sleeps and he sings and he dreams far below.

“Five miles.”

“Get that torpedo ready,” Banks said.

“No,” Seton shouted. “It’s slowing down. Look, the chant’s working.”

“Two miles, and slowing,” the operator confirmed.

“Can we surface?” Seton asked.

Banks wasn’t ready to make that kind of decision for the submarine crew but was surprised when Green capitulated immediately.

“Sure, why not,” he said. “Nothing else has worked. It’s your show now.”

The sub rose and surfaced.

“One mile out and closing slowly,” the radar operator said.

Banks followed Seton up and outside onto the deck with the other squad members close at his back.

The beast lay quiet in the water, the huge head almost touching the prow of the submarine, eyes wide and fixed directly on where the squad stood. The chanting seemed to come from everywhere around them.

He sleeps and he dreams with the fish far below.

He dreams and he sings in the dark.

The beast sang in time, its wailing bass drone sending vibration thrumming through the hull.

He sleeps and he sings and he dreams far below.

The serpent faded and solidified in time with the beats of the chant, becoming fainter with each beat.

It began to sink, fading fast. Its song faded with it. Seton added his voice to the chant as it sank beneath the swell and was gone.

And the Dreaming God is singing where he lies.


“Won’t it just come back again?” Green asked when they went back below.

“Not if you keep the chant going,” Seton said.

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“You won’t have to. I’m thinking a series of buoys each broadcasting the song and a naval blockade of the immediate area should do the trick, as long as there is no renewal of drilling in this area.”

“I can’t authorise that,” Green said.

Banks got the last word.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I know a man who knows a man who can.”

The chant was still echoing around them as they returned to their cabins to prepare to go home.

He sleeps and he dreams with the fish far below.

He dreams and he sings in the dark.

He sleeps and he sings and he dreams far below.

And the Dreaming God is singing where he lies.

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