Her smile was a white blur in her dark face. "I have to go. Sooner out, sooner back."

When the hatch clicked shut behind her, the stillness of the little room boomed in Brett's ears. He looked at the bed where Scudi had slept.

I'm alone.

He knew that sleep was impossible. His attention wouldn't leave the slight impression left by Scudi's body on the other bed. Such a small room, why did it feel bigger when she was in it?

His heartbeat was fast, suddenly, and as it got faster he found a constriction of his chest whenever he tried to take a deep breath.

He swung his legs off the bed, pulled on his clothes and started to pace. His gaze moved erratically around the room - sink and water taps, the cupboards with conchlike whorls in the corners, the hatch to the head ... everything was costly metal but plain and rigid in design. The water taps were shiny silver dolphins. He felt them and touched the wall behind them. The two metals had entirely different textures.

The room had no ports or skylights, nothing to show the exterior world. The walls with their kelplike undulations were breached only by the two hatches. He felt that he had an unlimited amount of energy and nowhere to use it.

He folded the beds back into their couch positions and paced the room. Something boiled in him. His chest became tighter and a swarm of wriggling black shapes intruded on his vision. There was nothing around him, he thought, but water. A loud ringing swelled in his ears.

Abruptly, Brett jerked open the outside hatch and lurched into the passageway. He only knew that he needed air. He fell to one knee there, gagging.

Two Mermen stopped beside him. One of them gripped his shoulder.

A man said, "Islander." His voice betrayed only curiosity. "Easy does it," another man said. "You're safe." "Air!" Brett gasped. Something heavy was standing on his chest, and his heart still raced inside his straining chest.

The man gripping his shoulder said: 'There's plenty of air, son. Take a deep breath. Lean back against me and take a deep breath."

Brett felt the tension clawing at his belly lift a bony finger, then another. A new, commanding voice behind him demanded: "Who left this Mute alone here?" There was a scuffling sound, then a shout: "Medic! Here!"

Brett tried to take a fast, deep breath but couldn't. He heard a whistling in his constricted throat. "Relax. Breathe slow and deep."

"Get him to a port," the commanding voice said. "Get him somewhere he can see outside. That usually works."

Hands straightened Brett and lifted him with arms under his shoulders. His fingertips and lips conveyed the buzz and tingle of electric shock. A blurred face bent close to him, inquiring, "Have you ever been down under before?"

Brett's lips shaped a silent "No." He was not sure he could walk.

"Don't be afraid," the blur said. "This occasionally happens your first time alone. You'll be all right."

Brett grew aware that people were hurrying him along a pale orange passageway. A hand patted his shoulder. The tingling receded, and the black shapes floating across his vision began to shrink. The people carrying him stopped and eased him to the deck on his back, then propped him upright. His head was clearing, and Brett looked up at a string of lights. The light cover directly overhead had blobs of dust and bugs inside. A head blotted out his view and Brett had an impression of a man about Twisp's age with a backlighted halo of dark hair.

"You feeling better?" the man asked. Brett tried to speak in a dry mouth, then managed to croak, "I feel stupid."

In the sudden laughter all around him, Brett ducked his head and looked out a wide port into the sea. It was a horizontal view of low-lying kelp with many fish grazing between its leaves. This was a perspective of undersea life far different from the driftwatch views topside.

The older man patted his shoulder and said, "That's all right, son. Everyone feels stupid some time or other. It's better than being stupid, eh?"

Twisp would have said that, Brett thought. He grinned up at the long-haired Merman. "Thanks."

"Best thing for you to do, young man," the Merman said, "is to go back to a quiet room. Try being alone again."

The thought pumped Brett's pulse rate back up. He imagined himself alone once more in that little room with those metal walls and all that water ...

"Who brought you in here?" the man asked.

Brett hesitated. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

"You won't," the medic reassured him. "We can get the person who picked you up freed from regular duty to make your entry into life here a little easier."

"Scudi ... Scudi Wang picked me up."

"Oh! There are people waiting for you nearby. Scudi will be able to guide you. Lex," he spoke to a man out of Brett's line of vision, "call down to Scudi at the lab." The medic returned his attention to Brett. "There's no hurry, but you do have to get used to being alone."

A voice behind Brett said, "She's on her way."

"Lots of Islanders have a rough time of it down under at first. I'd say every one, in some way or other. Some recover all at once, a few brood for weeks. You look like you're getting over it."

Someone on the other side of Brett lifted Brett's chin and pressed a container of water to his lips. The water felt cold and tasted faintly of salt.

Brett saw Scudi rushing down the long passage, her small face twisted with worry. The Merman helped Brett to his feet, gripped his shoulder, then hurried toward Scudi. "Your friend's had a stress flash." The man hurried past Scudi, speaking back at her. "Put him through the solo drill before he learns to like the panic, though."

She waved her thanks, then helped Brett manage the walk back to her room.

"I should've stayed," Scudi said. "You were my first, and you seemed to be doing so well ..."

"I thought I was, too," he said, "so don't feel bad. Who was that medic?"

"Shadow Panille. I work with his department in Search and Rescue - Current Control."

"I thought he was a medic, they said -"

"He is. Everyone in S and R holds that rating." Scudi took his arm. "Are you all right now?"

He blushed. "It was stupid of me. I just felt I had to get some air, and when I got out into the passage ..."

"It's my fault," she insisted. "I forgot about stress flash and they're always telling us about it. I felt ... well, like you'd always been here. I didn't think of you as a newcomer."

"The air in the passage felt so thick," Brett said. "Almost like water."

"Is it all right now?"

"Yes." He inhaled a deep breath. "Kind of ... wet, though."

"It gets heavy enough to do your laundry in sometimes. Some Islanders have to carry dry bottles while they're adjusting. If you feel well now, we can report in. Some people are waiting for you." She shrugged at his inquiring look. "You have to be processed, of course."

He stared at her, reassured by her presence but still nursing an abrupt hollow feeling. Islanders heard many stories of the way Mermen regulated everything in their lives - reports for this, tests for that. He started to ask her about this processing but was interrupted as a large group of Mermen clattered past carrying equipment - tanks, hoses, stretchers.

Scudi called after them, "What is it?"

"They're bringing in the accident survivors," one of them hollered.

Ceiling speakers came alive then: "Situation Orange! Situation Orange! All emergency personnel to your stations. This is not a drill. This is not a drill. Keep docking areas clear. Keep passageways clear. Essential duty stations only for regular personnel. Essential duty stations only. All others report to alternate stations. Medical emergencies only in the passages or trauma shed vicinity. Situation Orange. This is not a drill ..."