Free Undersea Fleet by Frederik & Williamson Pohl Page A

medic—”
    David choked, but managed a grin. “I don’t need a sea medic,” he said. “I’m not coming back as a cadet, you see. I’m here on business—for my father. I was in a sea car and I was attacked, down there.” He nodded toward the black water. “Subsea pirates,” he cried angrily. “They jumped my sea car and robbed me. I was lucky to get away with my life.”
    “Pirates!” Roger was staring at him. “In the front yard of the Academy! Craken, we’ve got to do something about this. What did they look like? How many were there? What kind of sea car were they using? Give me the facts, Cracken—I’ll get a report to the Fleet, and we’ll—”
    “Wait, Roger. Wait!” David protested desperately. “I don’t want the Fleet. There’s nothing they can do to help me now. And I—I can’t let anyone know I’m here.”
    Roger looked at him suspiciously. Then he stared at Bob and me. I could see his brain working, could see the conclusion he was coming to.
    “You don’t want the Fleet,” he said slowly. “You can’t let anyone know you’re here. Could that be—” he leaned down, staring into David’s eyes angrily—” could that be because of what you lost when you were robbed?”
    David said weakly, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “But you do, Craken! I’d bet a summer’s leave you do! Was it pearls you lost when they robbed you, Craken? Thirteen pearls, Tonga pearls, in an edenite tube?”
    There was a moment’s silence. Then David got to his feet, his face blank. He said in a cold, changed voice:
    “They’re mine. Where are they?”
    “I thought so!” cried Roger. “What do you think of that, Eden? I knew it was just too much of a coincidence for Craken to turn up right now. He’s connected with that Joe Trencher, that stole my pearls.”
    David stood up straight. For a moment I thought he was angry, but the expression in his eyes was not rage. He said: “Trencher? Did you say—Trencher?”
    “That’s the name! As if you didn’t know. A queer little white-skinned man, with a case of asthma, I think. Trencher. Don’t try to tell us you never heard of him!”
    David laughed sharply. “If only I could, Roger,” he said soberly. “If only I could! But I must admit that I’ve heard of him—of them, at any rate. Trencher isn’t a name, you see. Trencher is—from the Trench. The Tonga Trench!”
    He shook his head. “Joe Trencher. Yes, he would give a name like that. And you met him?”
    I cut in. “We not only met him, David, but I’m afraid we let him get away with the pearls.” I gave him a quick outline of what had happened, from the moment Bob Eskow felt the edenite cylinder wash against his foot until the stranger clipped me, grabbed it and dived into the sea. “He never came up,” I told David Craken. “No electrolung, no thermosuit—but he never came up. I suppose he must be drowned out there now…”
    “Drowned? Him?” David Craken looked at me queerly, but then he shook his head again. “No, he isn’t drowned, Jim. Trust him for that. I’ll explain sometime—but the likes of Joe Trencher will never drown.” He looked soberly out to sea. “I thought I’d got away from them,” he said. “All this long way from Kermadec Dome. But they caught up with me. I suppose it was inevitable that they would. The first thing I knew was when the microsonar showed something approaching—fast and close. A projectile exploded, I suppose—anyway, the next thing that happened was that my sea car was out of control and taking in water. Those devils came in through the emergency hatches. I got away—but they got the pearls.” He sighed. “I needed those pearls,” he said. “It isn’t just money. I was going to sell them to—to buy something for my father. Something that he has to have.”
    Roger demanded: “Where did you get the pearls? You’ve got to tell us that. Otherwise, Craken, I’m warning you—I’m going to report this