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