***

In that fading moment before the last of the twilight settled below the horizon, like a dimmed torch quenched in a cold sea, Brett saw the launch tower. Its gray bulk bridged a low cloud layer and the sea. He pointed.

"That's it?"

Scudi leaned forward to peer through the fading light.

"I don't see it," she said, "but by the instruments it's about twenty klicks away."

"We used up some time with Twisp and that Bushka character. What did you think of him?"

"Of your Twisp?"

"No, the other one."

"We have Mermen like that," she hedged.

"You didn't like him, either."

"He's a whiner, maybe a killer," she said. "It's not easy to like someone like that."

"What did you think of his story?" Brett asked.

"I don't know," she said. "What if he did it all on his own and the crew threw him overboard? We can't believe him or disbelieve him on the little we've heard - and all of it from him."

The foil skidded across the edge of a kelp bed, slowing then recovering as its sharp-edged supports cut through the tangled growth.

"I didn't see that kelp," Scudi said. "The light is so bad ... that was clumsy of me!"

"Will it hurt the foil?" Brett asked.

She shook her head. "No, I have hurt the kelp. We will have to come off the foils."

"Hurt the kelp?" Brett was mystified. "How can you hurt a plant?"

"The kelp is not just a plant," she said. "It's in a sensitive stage of development ... it's difficult to explain. You'll think me as crazy as Bushka if I tell you all that I know about the kelp."

Scudi reduced the throttle. The hissing roar subsided and the wallowing boat slipped down onto its hull, gently lifting with the heave of the waves. The rams subsided to a low murmur behind them.

"It is more dangerous for us to come in at night," she said. The red instrument lights had come on automatically as the light dimmed outside and she looked at Brett, his face under-lighted by the red illumination.

"Should we wait out here for daylight?" he asked.

"We could submerge and sit on the bottom," she said. "It's only about sixty fathoms."

When Brett did not respond, she said, "You don't prefer it down under, do you?"

He shrugged.

"It's too deep to anchor," she said, "but it is safe to drift if we watch. Nothing can harm us in here."

"Dashers?"

"They can't penetrate a foil."

"Then let's shut down and drift. The kelp should keep us stable. I agree with you, I don't think we should go in there at night. We want everybody to see us and know who we are and why we're there."

Scudi shut off the murmuring rams and in the sudden silence they grew aware of the slap of waves against the hull, the faint creaking of the vessel around them.

"How far is it to the base again?" Brett asked. He squinted through the twilight murk toward the tower.

"At least twenty klicks."

Brett, accustomed to judging distance out by the height of Vashon above the horizon, produced a low whistle. "That thing must be pretty high. It's a wonder Islanders haven't spotted it before this."

"I think we control the currents to keep Islands clear of the area."

"Control the currents," he muttered. "Yeah, of course." Then he asked, "Do you think they've seen us?"

Scudi punched a button on the console and a series of familiar clicks and beeps came from an overhead speaker. He'd heard these sounds from time to time as they skipped across the waves.

"Nothing's tracking us," she said. "It would howl if we were targeted. They might know we're here, though. This just means we're not under observation." Brett bent over the button Scudi had punched and read the label: "T-BEAM TEST."

"Automatic," she said. "It tells us if we're targeted by a tracking beam."

The foil lurched suddenly counter to a wave. Brett, used to the uncertain footing of Islands and coracles, was first to catch his balance. Scudi clutched his arm to right herself.

"Kelp," Brett said.

"I think so. We had better -" She broke off with a startled gasp, staring past Brett at the rear hatch.

Brett whirled to see a Merman standing there, dripping sea water, green paint striped across his face and dive suit in a grotesque pattern. The man carried a lasgun at the ready. Another Merman stood in the shadowy passage behind him.

Scudi's voice was a dry whisper in Brett's ear: "Gallow. That's Nakano behind him."

Surprise at the stealth that had allowed the Merman to come this close without detection held Brett speechless. He tried to absorb the import of Scudi's rasping whisper. So this was the Merman that Bushka blamed for sinking Guemes! The man was tall and smoothly muscled, and his dive suit clung to him like a second skin. Why the green pattern on it? Brett wondered. His eyes could not help focusing on the business end of the lasgun.

The Merman chuckled. "Little Scudi Wang! Now that's what I call luck. We've been having our share of luck lately, eh, Nakano?"

"It wasn't luck saved us when that stupid Islander sank us," Nakano growled.

"Ahhh, yes," Gallow agreed. "Your superior strength broke the bonds that held you. Indeed." He flicked a glance around the cockpit. "Where's the crew? We need your doctor."

Brett, at whom Gallow aimed the question, met Gallow's demanding stare with silence, thinking that the interchange between these two Mermen tended to confirm Bushka's odd story.

"Your doctor!" Gallow insisted.

"We don't have one," Brett said, surprised at the force of his voice.

Gallow, noting the accent, flicked a scornful glance at Scudi. "Who's the Mute?"

"A - a friend," Scudi said. "Brett Norton."

Gallow looked Brett over in the dim red light, then turned back to Scudi. "He looks almost normal, but he's still a Mute. Your daddy would haunt you!" He spoke over his shoulder. "Have a look, Nakano."

The slop-slop of wet footsteps sounded behind Gallow as Nakano turned back down the passage. He reappeared presently and spoke a single word: "Empty."

"Just the two of them," Gallow said. "Out for a little cruise in one of the big boats. How sweet."

"Why do you need a doctor?" Scudi asked.

"Full of questions, aren't we," Gallow said.

"At least we have the foil," the second man said.

"That we have, Nakano," Gallow said.

Nakano pressed past Gallow into the cockpit and Brett got a full view of the man. He was a hulking figure, his upper arms as thick as some human torsos. The scarred face filled Brett with a sense of foreboding.

Gallow strode forward to one of the command seats. He bent to read the instruments. "We watched you coming in," he said. He turned and sent a baleful glare at Scudi. "You were in one big hurry and then you stopped. That's very interesting for someone in an empty foil. What're you doing?"

Scudi looked at Brett, who blushed.

Nakano guffawed.

"Oh, my," Gallow taunted, "love nests get more elaborate every year. Yes, yes."

"Disgusting." Nakano laughed, and clicked his tongue.

"There's a watch-alert out on this foil, Scudi Wang," Gallow said. His manner sobered too quickly for Brett's comfort. "You stole it. What do you think, Nakano? Looks like the Green Dashers have captured a couple of desperadoes."

Brett looked at the grotesque green dive suits on the two Mermen. Blotches and splashes and lines of green spilled over from their suits into patterns painted on their faces.

"Green Dashers?" Scudi asked.

"We are the Green Dashers," Gallow said. "These suits are the perfect camouflage underwater, particularly around the kelp. And we spend a lot of time in kelp, right Nakano?"