Free Undersea Quest by Frederick & Williamson Pohl Page A

featureless city dome and the unchanging sea; I wandered down to the saloon to watch the passengers disembark.
    We took on a full score of passengers; at least as many got off.
    And among those who got off was the gray man. He knew I was there; I caught one glimpse of his eyes on me out of the corner of mine, and in his I saw astonishment and what almost had to be fright. But then he looked at me no more. I stared after his departing back, wondering.
    In a matter of minutes the locks were closed, the pressure-ports sealed, and the Isle of Spain was water- borne again.
    I headed back toward my cabin. Since the little man was gone, there could be no reason to stay away. In fact, if I played my cards right—if the steward would let me in to Stateroom 335—I might learn something…
    I never got the chance.
    Heedlessly I unlocked my stateroom door. Heedlessly I swung it open, started to step inside.
    Bluish vapors swirled out upon me.
    I staggered back, blinded, gasping, tears streaming down my face. I breathed the tiniest fraction of a minute whiff of the gases—and I was strangled, choking, bent double with a rasping, shattering cough.
    Instandy a steward was by my side.
    “Sir!” he cried. “Sir, what’s the matter?”
    Then he caught a whiff of the gas himself.
    The two of us staggered away. He clawed at some sort of signal apparatus on the wall; in the distance, an alarm bell pulsed. A moment passed, then half a dozen crewmen appeared, in fire-fighting gear, masks and helmets giving them some protection.
    Without word or question they raced past us, heading from Stateroom 334…
    And in a moment two of them came lurching out. Between them they dragged a rigid, wax-faced form: the steward who had changed my cabin for me.
    The captain of the Isle of Spain was considerate, tactful—and remorseless.
    If I had had anything to hide, he would have had it from me. I was grateful that I could speak honestly to that bronze-faced man; I should not have cared to try him with a lie.
    I told him everything. Starting with my forced resignation from the Academy—through the death of my uncle, the man in the red hat, the littie gray man. I held nothing back.
    I wanted to hold nothing back. I had got a quick glimpse of the unfortunate steward: grotesquely, frozenly stiff; hideously white—color bleached even from his hair and eyebrows by the searing action of the gas. The ship’s doctor called the gas lethine; I had heard of it. It was deadly.
    Whoever was behind the gray man was playing for keeps.
    The ship’s officers acted promptly; as soon as they had heard the first words of my story, they radioed Black Camp to have the gray man put under arrest. But I had small doubt that the gray man would be hard to find; certainly he knew what he would have to expect as soon as the corpse was discovered.
    Unfortunate steward! The captain speculated that my story had interested him; he had gone back to Stateroom 334 to see just what it was that I was willing to pay double fare to get away from. And his curiosity had been his undoing.
    Eventually the questioning was over. The captain secured my promise that, when I arrived at Thetis I would stay put until the Marinian police had had a chance to question me, if they wished to do so, and then I was at liberty.
    I didn’t go back to Stateroom 334. I had my belongings transferred to the new room. And I prayed that this last failure of my unknown enemies would exhaust their powers…
    We were due to arrive at Seven Dome late that night; I debated staying up for it, but decided not to bother. I was weary and worn; it had been a difficult period, and that day had been the most difficult of all.
    I retired to my cabin rather early. But I didn’t get a chance to go right to sleep.
    There was a knock on my door. I flung it open; a steward smiled apologetically, and extended a scarlet envelope on a silver tray.
    “For you, Mr. Eden,” he said. “Sorry to disturb you.”
    I dismissed him and ripped