Donald explained while the two divers slouched against the wall. It was a hard story to swallow, and their eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Oh, come on!” Richard scoffed. “What is this? Some kind of a put-on?” He regarded the trio with suspicion. This had to be a prank. Michael nodded in agreement.

“This is no put-on,” Donald assured him.

“Just look around this room,” Suzanne said.

“Listen!” Donald said, trying to be patient. “Can’t either of you remember anything about how you got here? Didn’t you see anybody?”

Richard shook his head. With his foot he pushed around the deflated segments of the sphere. The material was now limp instead of rigid and brittle. “Are you serious about us being inside this stuff? You said it looked like glass. It sure doesn’t now.”

“It did just a short time ago,” Suzanne assured him.

“What we think is that this is a Russian submarine base,” Donald continued.

“Correction!” Suzanne interrupted. “That’s what you think.”

“Russians?” Richard echoed. “No shit!” He visibly straightened up. He looked around the room with renewed interest, as did Michael. Both put their hands against the highly polished walls. Richard rapped on the glossy surface with his knuckle. “What is this stuff anyway, titanium?”

Suzanne started to answer but was interrupted by a hissing noise. Everyone looked back to the locations where the spheres had stood. A vapor billowed out of the exposed holes. Quickly an acrid smell pervaded the sealed chamber, and everyone’s eyes began to tear.

“We’re being gassed!” Suzanne cried before she was overcome by violent coughs.

The group shrank back in terror, pressing themselves against the cold metal walls in a vain attempt to get away from the gas. But before long everyone was coughing and squeezing their eyes shut against the burning sensation.

“Get on the floor!” Donald cried.

Everyone except Perry flattened themselves on the floor while trying ineffectually to cover their mouths and noses with their hands. Perry stumbled back to the door to the cavern and began pounding on it, while screaming for it to be opened.

The door did not budge, but Perry had the presence of mind to notice something despite his panic and physical torment. He was not blacking out nor was he even feeling the slightest bit dizzy. The gas seemed not to have the lethal effect he most feared.

With strength of will Perry held his coughing in check and managed to crack his eyes for an instant despite the discomfort. The room was thick with the foglike vapor. Perry couldn’t see far, but he noticed that his arms were suddenly bare.

Curious as to what could have happened to the sleeves of his jogging suit, Perry squinted. He saw that his sleeves had fallen into tatters. They were hanging in shreds as if he’d dipped his arms into acid.

Aware that his whole body now felt cool, Perry patted his hands along his chest. His jogging suit-indeed, all his clothes-were suffering the same fate as his sleeves. The fabric of the clothing itself was progressively losing its structural integrity.

Perry had had nightmares in the past when he was under stress that he was naked in public. Suddenly it was coming to pass as he felt his clothes peel from his body in strips. He clutched at them and felt them disintegrate in his hands.

“It’s our clothes!” Perry shouted to the others. “The gas is dissolving our clothes!”

At first fear kept everyone else from responding. Perry yelled his message again and stumbled forward in the fog, almost tripping over Donald. “The gas is dissolving our clothes,” he repeated. “And I don’t feel any mental effect whatsoever.”

Donald pushed himself up to a sitting position. His coveralls experienced the same fate as Perry’s jogging suit. Quickly he patted himself to verify that he was indeed becoming naked. But he couldn’t open his eyes; the gas stung too much. Even without the visual confirmation, he was convinced. He called out to the others: “Perry’s right!”

Suzanne, like Perry, was able to get her eyes open intermittently. She saw that it was true about her clothes. Her coveralls literally fell apart. She also noticed that there was no effect on her mental state despite the discomfort she felt in her throat and chest. Relieved, she got to her feet.

Richard and Michael pushed themselves up into sitting positions. With the drugged feeling they were still experiencing, they could not tell if the gas was affecting their consciousness, but both were coughing heavily. For them, the respiratory effect was more difficult than it was for the others.

“My dive suit’s fine,” Richard managed between coughs. But then he made the mistake of running his hand over his shoulder. When he did, the neoprene completely depolymerized. At his touch it fell into tiny spheres.

Through blinks, Michael had glimpsed the fate of Richard’s suit. He glanced intermittently at his own suit, reluctant to touch it or even move, but Richard reached out and gave his shoulder a sharp slap. The effect was instantaneous. One minute the dive suit looked normal, the next it was running off Michael like so many drops of water.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded and a red light on the wall opposite the door to the cavern began to flash-moments before, that same wall had appeared seamless. Through the caustic vapor, the five began to discern the outline of an open doorway below the light.

The alarm ceased after a few minutes but the light continued to blink. Then they noticed the sound of a high-pitched whistle. Air was being forced through a narrow vent.

Perry advanced slowly toward the flashing light. When he reached the wall, he saw that the outline of the door was more distinct. He felt around its edges. When he did he could feel a steady current of air pushing in. That explained the whistling. He tested with his foot to make sure the floor was level across the threshold. Then he stepped through.

Perry was immediately relieved. The curtain of fast-moving air kept the acrid gas from the hallway he’d entered. The walls, floor, and ceiling were constructed of the same polished metal as the gas-filled room, but the level of illumination was significantly less. Twenty feet ahead Perry could see that the corridor opened up into another chamber.

Perry poked his head back through the air curtain.

“There’s another room,” he shouted. “And it’s clear. Quick!”

The other four struggled to their feet and moved toward the blinking light. Suzanne had to guide Donald; he couldn’t stand to open his eyes. In a minute, the entire party made it into the new room.

The gas wore off swiftly. They were so relieved that they weren’t troubled by the complete disintegration of their clothes. All five were stark naked, but other concerns were more pressing. Ahead the second room beckoned.

“Let’s move,” Donald said. He gestured for Perry to precede them since he was already in the lead.

Perry flattened himself against the wall and motioned for Donald to pass. “I think you should be first. You’re still the captain of the ship.”

Donald nodded and pushed past. Perry fell in behind him followed by Suzanne. The two divers brought up the rear.

“It’s pretty obvious what’s going on now,” Donald said.

“I’m glad it’s obvious to you,” Perry said.

“What do you mean?” Suzanne asked.

“We’re being prepared for interrogation,” Donald said. “It’s a recognized technique to strip away a person’s sense of identity as a way to break down resistance. Our clothes are certainly part of our identity.”

“I don’t have any resistance,” Perry said. “I’ll tell whoever it is whatever they want to know.”

“Donald, does that mean you know what that gas was?” Suzanne asked.

“That’s a negative,” Donald said.

Donald halted at the second room’s threshold and peered in. It was considerably smaller than the first chamber although it, too, was lined with the same mysterious, metallic material. From where he was standing, he could make out a glass-doored exit as well as a white hall begin with what appeared to be framed pictures on the walls. Within the chamber he noticed that the floor sloped toward the center, where there was a grate, and the ceiling peaked to a central point with a second grate.