Panille's lips shaped into a soundless ahhh-hah! Had she been notified as a member of the diplomatic corps or as a new director of Merman Mercantile? And did it make any difference?

"We've been unable to tune in any sonde reports," Lonson said, speaking from across the room.

"It's being withheld," Ale said.

"What does it show?" Panille asked.

"Guemes collapsed inward and sank."

"No explosion?" Panille was more startled by this than by the revelation that the sonde report was being withheld. Sonde reports could be suppressed for many reasons. But Islands as big as Guemes did not just collapse abruptly and sink!

"No explosion," Ale said. "Just some kind of disturbance near the Island center. Guemes broke up and most of it sank."

"It probably rotted apart," the operator in front of Panille said.

"No way," Panille said. He pointed to the screens showing the maimed survivors.

"Could a sub have done that?" Ale asked.

Panille remained silent, shocked by the import of her question.

"Well?" Ale insisted.

"It could have," Panille said. "But how could such an accident ..."

"Don't pursue it," Ale said. "For now, forget that I asked."

There was no mistaking the command in her voice. The grim expression on Ale's face added a bitterness to the order. It sent a pulse of anger through Panille. What had that suppressed sonde view shown?

"When will we get the first survivors in here?" Ale asked.

"About daybreak tomorrow," Panille said. "But I've asked for the first rescue team to assign interrogators. We could have -"

"They are not to report on an open frequency," Ale said.

"But -"

"We will send out a foil," she said. She crossed to the communications desk and issued a low-voiced order, then returned to Panille. "Rescue subs are too slow. We must act with speed here."

"I didn't know we had the foils to spare."

"I am assigning new priorities," Ale said. She moved back one step and addressed the room at large. "Listen, everyone. This has happened at a very bad time. I have just brought the Chief Justice down under. We are engaged in very delicate negotiations. Rumors and premature reports could cause great trouble. What you see and hear in this room must be kept in this room. No stories outside."

Panille heard a few muttered grumblings. Everyone here knew Ale's power, but it said something about the urgency of the situation that she would give orders on his turf. Ale was a diplomat, skilled at cushioning the distasteful.

"There're already rumors," Panille said. "I heard talk in the corridors as I came over."

"And people saw you running," Ale said.

"I was told it was an emergency."

"Yes ... no matter. But we must not feed the rumors."

"Wouldn't it be better to announce that there's been an Island tragedy and that we're bringing in survivors?" Panille asked.

Ale moved close to him and spoke in a low voice. "We're preparing an announcement, but the wording ... delicate. This is a political nightmare ... and coming at such a time. It must be handled properly."

Panille inhaled the sweet odor of the scented soap Ale used, touching off memories. He pushed such thoughts aside. She was right, of course.

"The C/P is from Guemes," Ale reminded him.

"Could Islanders have done this?" he asked.

"Possibly. There's widespread resentment of Guemes fanaticism. Still ..."

"If a sub did that," Panille said, "it was one of ours. Islander subs don't carry the hardware to do that kind of damage. They're just fishermen."

"Never mind whose sub," she said. "Who would order such an atrocity? And who would carry it out?" Ale once more studied the screens, an expression of deep concern on her face.

She's convinced it was a sub, Panille thought. That sonde report must've been dangerously revealing. One of our subs for sure!

He began to sense the far-reaching political whiplash. Guemes! Of all places! Islanders and Mermen maintained an essential interdependency, which the Guemes tragedy could disrupt. Islander hydrogen, organically separated from sea-water, was richer and purer ... and the impending space shot increased the demand for the purest hydrogen.

Movement visible through the plaz port drew Panille's dazed and wandering attention. A full squad of Mermen swam by towing a hydrostatically balanced sledge. Their dive suits flexed like a second skin, showing the powerful muscles at work.

Dive suits, he thought.

Even they were a potential for trouble. Islanders made the best dive suits, but the market was controlled by Mermen. Islander complaints about price controls carried little weight.

Ale, seeing where he directed his attention, and apparently divining his thoughts, gestured toward the new kelp planting visible out the plaz port. "That's only part of the problem."

"What?"

"The kelp. Without Islander agreement, the kelp project will slow almost to a stop."

"Secrecy was wrong," Panille said. "Islanders should've been brought in on it from the first."

"But they weren't," Ale said. "And as we expose more land masses above the surface ..." She shrugged.

"The danger that Islands will bottom out increases," Panille said. "I know. This is Current Control, remember?"

"I'm glad you understand the political dangers," she said. "I hope you impress this upon your people."

"I'll do what I can," he said, "but I think it's already out of hand."

Ale said something too low for Panille to hear. He bent even closer to her. "I didn't hear that."

"I said the more kelp the more fish. That benefits Islanders, too."

Oh, yes, Panille thought. The movements of political control made him increasingly cynical. It was too late to stop the kelp project absolutely, but it could be slowed and the Merman dream delayed for generations. Very bad politics, that. No ... the benefits had to be there for all to see. Everything focused on the kelp and the hyb tanks. First recover the hyb tanks from orbit, and then deal with the dreamers. Panille saw the practicalities, recognizing that politics must deal in the practical while speaking mainly of dreams.

"We'll do the practical thing," he said, his voice almost a growl.

"I'm sure you will," Ale said.

"That's what Current Control is all about," he said. "I understand why you emphasize the kelp project to me. No kelp - no Current Control."

"Don't be bitter, Shadow."

It was the first time since entering Current Control that she had used his first name, but he rejected the implied intimacy.

"More than nine thousand people died out there," he said, his voice low. "If one of our subs did it ..."

"Blame will have to be placed squarely," she said. "There can be no doubts, no questions ..."

"No question that Islanders did it," he said.

"Don't play games with me, Shadow. We both know there are many Mermen who will look upon the destruction of Guemes as a benefit to all Pandora."

Panille glanced around Current Control, taking in the intent backs of his people, the way they concentrated on their work while appearing not to listen to this charged conversation. They heard, though. It dismayed him that even here would be some who agreed with the sentiment Ale had just exposed. What had been up to now just late-night scuttlebutt, cafe chatter and idle stories took on a new dimension. He felt this realization as an unwanted maturation, like the death of a parent. Cruel reality no longer could be ignored. It startled him to recognize that he had entertained dream fancies about the essential good will underlying human interactions ... until just moments ago. The awakening angered him.

"I'm going to find out personally who did that," he said.

"Let's pray it was a horrible accident," she said.

"You don't believe that and neither do I." He sent his gaze across the awful testimony of those flickering screens. "It was a big sub - one of our S-twenties or larger. Did it dive deep and escape under the scattering layer?"