Undersea City by Frederik & Williamson Pohl Page A

around.
    I stayed out of sight.
    When they were borne nearly past the barrier wall on the moving in-walk I jumped aboard.
    I followed them as closely as I dared. We headed down—down and down; toward the elevators, and then down.
    I felt like a sore thumb—my sea-red dress uniform was about the worst possible disguise for a Junior Sub-Sea Ranger on an undercover assignment; I felt foolish besides. But I couldn’t take time to worry about my feelings. I had to stay with them.
    Already Bob was standing in line behind three noisy sub-seamen at the down chute. The little Chinese had paused on the landing to put a penny in a news machine. He was stooping over the hooded screen, standing so that he could see the whole landing simply by lifting his eyes.
    The more cautiously they behaved, the more sure I was that they were up to something.
    I copied their tactics. A couple of cadets from one of the training sub-sea vessels in port—the Simon Lake, by their insignia—were looking at a display window. The window was full of scuba gear, designed for civilian use in shallow water; they were amused by it; I joined them. If I kept my face averted, it was not likely that Bob or the Chinese would recognize me. The cadets paid no attention to me; they were too busy pointing out to one another how much flashy chrome and how little practical use the display of scuba gear had.
    Using the side of a chrome electro-gill for a mirror, I saw Bob follow the noisy sub-seamen into the down chute.
    The little Chinese left the news machine and sauntered into line for the next car.
    I took a chance and got into the down car with him.
    He was unwrapping his little packet of sea-chicle, as serious about it as a three-year-old. But just as the automatic door of the car slid shut behind me, he looked up at me for half a second.
    And suddenly he was something more than a sea-worn Chinese derelict.
    He was a human being.
    He was no derelict, either; there was bright intelligence in the look he darted at me. I was sure he knew me, but he made no attempt to speak. And his expression—his expression was something that I shall never forget.
    I had thought, in that crazy wondering time of doubt, that there might be danger here for me. And danger there was—it was in his eyes—but not for me! For the look in his eyes was that of an animal caught in a trap. He was afraid! His seamed face was haggard, haunted. He watched me with hollow eyes, then looked away—an animal, caught, waiting to be put out of its misery.
    I couldn’t understand.
    I turned away almost as quickly as he did, and didn’t meet those eyes again.
    We came to the bottom of the down-chute; the car doors opened; we got out. I looked around quickly for Bob—
    There was no sign of him at all.
    There was only one thing to do, and that was to stay with the Chinese.
    Doggedly I kept him in sight, for more than an hour.
    We had a tour of the entire dome, and long before the hour was over I knew that the man was playing with me; he knew who I was, and knew that I was following him. I would learn nothing. But I kept on following, for there was nothing else to do.
    It began to be close to twenty hundred hours—the time when Bob was supposed to be back on duty at the quake station, the time when Lt. Tsuya wanted to demonstrate to him that Ms-forecast quake would not occur. He had had plenty of time to get back since I had lost him; I could only hope that he had taken advantage of the time. But that did nothing to change the greater mystery, of why he had gone AWOL in the first place, and what his connection was with this man whom I was following.
    And as the hour got closer to twenty hundred, then passed it, the man I followed began to act nervous, agitated. Several times he turned and looked back toward me; more than once he actually started in my direction. But each time he changed his mind. And it was not only me he was worried about, for he kept looking overhead, staring about him at the walls,