He took a few steps toward Austin on the catwalk. Austin groaned again and slid back the top of the tank another few inches. Barker stepped off the catwalk and walked slowly along the tops of the fish tanks. Austin glanced at the opening. The gap was still less than a foot. He groaned again and brought it back another few inches. Barker stopped and listened as if he suspected something. “Screw you, Barker,” Austin said. “I'm opening the sluice gates.” Barker's face fell, and he let out a feral snarl and charged forward. He never heard Austin pull the lid back another foot-and then he had stepped into the tank. He sank out of sight, then his head bobbed back up to the surface. His face turned into a mask of fear as he re- alized where he was, and he clung to the edge of the tank and tried to pull himself out. The mutant fish in the tank had been startled by the intrusion, but now it was nosing around Barker's legs. It was

being excited as well by blood from Austin's wound that had seeped down into the water.

Austin rose to his feet and coolly pulled up the adjoining sluice gates. Barker was halfway out of the tank when the fish from the other tanks found him. His face turned even whiter, and then he slipped back into the tank. There was a flurry and commotion... and his body disappeared in bloody foam.

Austin turned off the alarm switch and staggered back to Barker's quarters, where he had found a medicine cabinet with a first-aid kit. Using tape and bandages, he stanched the bleeding. Then he re- trieved the sword and was about to follow Zavala to see if he could help him, when his partner stepped through the door.

“Where's Barker?” Zavala said.

“We had a disagreement and he went to pieces.” Austin s lips tight- ened in a mirthless smile. “I'll tell you later. What about Scarface?”

“Fatal gas attack.” He glanced around. “We might want to get off this thing.”

“I was just starting to enjoy the ride, but I see your point.”

They hurried forward to the control car. There were only three men in the cabin. One man stood in front of a spoked wheel at the forward end of the car. Another manned a similar wheel on the port side. A third, who seemed to be in command, was directing them. He went for a pistol in his belt when he saw Austin and Zavala enter the cabin. Austin was in no mood for fooling around.

He stuck the sword's razor-sharp blade under the commander's Adam's apple and said, “Where are the others?”

Fear replaced the hatred in the man's dark eyes. “They're manning mooring lines for the landing.”