Last of all, the professor had Conundrum step into the large shoes. He called them duckfeet, and they did indeed look rather like the natural paddles of a large waterfowl. When Conundrum tried to move, he found his feet firmly planted to the deck. Only by tremendous effort was he able to lift even one foot.

“The duckfeet are lined with lead, to help you sink to the bottom,” the professor explained. “That way you can walk wherever you need to go, without the bothersome need to swim.”

Everyone clambered for an opportunity to try out the professor’s invention. Although it had no moving parts-those would likely come later, as improvements were designed-the underwater uniform seemed a wonderful innovation. Everyone thought so, that is, except Chief Engineer Portlost, who found the entire thing rather fanciful. Actually, he was thoroughly jealous for never having come up with the idea himself.

All told, there were only six suits to go around. Commodore Brigg solved the problem by assigning the first party to go ashore. Because he was already suited, Conundrum would go, along with Sir Grumdish, in case they met any creatures of hostile intent. Unfortunately, Grumdish would have to go armorless; his knightly Uniform wouldn’t fit inside the “frogsuit”-the professor’s name for the ingenious elastic-skinned underwater garb.

Much to his chagrin, Chief Portlost was chosen next. He acted as if he had no doubts that they would all drown the moment they stepped overboard. The commodore reminded him that his Life Quest was to record and detail the most extraordinary mishap the world has ever seen, to which the chief replied as the fish bowl was being placed over his head, “Yes, but I must live long enough to record it! And we have yet to invent the pen that can write underwater.”

Next, surprisingly, the commodore chose Razmous Pinchpocket. Well, not surprisingly. The kender had been hopping on one foot trying to attract the commodore’s attention the entire time, all the while pointing at himself and crying in a tiny voice, “Oh, pick me! Please pick me.” He was out of his pouches, green vest, and leather leggings before the commodore could finish pronouncing his name and, even more astonishing, assigning him the command of the expedition.

“Me? Commander!” Razmous squeaked, almost forgetting for a moment his delight at being allowed to try on the frogsuit, the inside of which he described as being “all squooshy,” accompanied by a sour expression that wrinkled up his nose and squinted his bright periwinkle eyes.

“You are chief acquisitions officer, are you not?” the commodore barked. “You are in charge of all supply expeditions. You didn’t think you were coming along just for the fun, did you? This is the first land reconnaissance of the MNS Indestructible, the first use of Professor Hap-Troggensbottle’s marvelous new invention, the frogsuit, and the first test of your leadership.”

“Of course!” the kender said, as seriously dutiful as he could. Then, when the commodore turned to assign the last two members of the expedition, he whispered to the professor, “Still, it’s gonna be fun.”

To fill out the shore party, Commodore Brigg chose ensigns Merliguttal and Wigpillow, for they were the two largest gnomes on the ship, the strongest and the most capable of carrying the large barrel he was sending with them to collect fresh water. However, Ensign Merliguttal proved much too large to fit into the last frogsuit. In fact, the suit would hardly come up to his waist, and only then after it was stretched almost to splitting. The professor admitted that he had run out of material and so had to make a smaller suit.

In the end, the only member of the crew small enough to fit into this small suit was Ensign Gob, the gully dwarf, and he was none too keen about allowing the gnomes to stuff him into the slithery garb. Loudly and vehemently he proclaimed, “Stinks unnatural!” Clearly, he thought they were feeding him to some kind of small black creature that was all mouth, for he screamed and wailed, thrashed and bit, as only a cornered gully dwarf can. Luckily, Doctor Bothy had plenty of anti-infection ointment, as gully dwarf bites can sometimes prove lethal if not properly treated.

He seemed to calm somewhat once the fish bowl was placed over his head. Perhaps it was the closeness of his own body’s odors crowding inside the glass helmet that made him think of his gully dwarf warren and took his mind off the strangeness of his predicament. Or perhaps it was the duckfeet keeping him firmly rooted to the deck, unable to run. In any case, something resembling a smile spread through the thick, greasy mat of his beard. Then he fainted. Professor Hap had tightened his neck seal a bit too much, probably on purpose. Once loosened, he awoke in a better humor. “Do again,” he requested, pointing at his throat.

They lined up along the edge of the deck, six in a row, and a queerer, more outlandish lot had never before been witnessed on the face of Krynn. They looked like something from another world, with their tight black suits and glass helmets, and backs swelling and deflating with each breath.

“What about the sharks?” Sir Grumdish asked, his voice sounding tiny inside his helmet.

“Yes, what about the sharks?” Chief Portlost concurred.

“You haven’t forgotten about the sharks, have you?”

“Of course not,” Professor Hap said as he stooped and opened the small, flat weapons box. From it, he took a strange device that set every gnomish heart palpitating with excitement. Its conglomeration of hoses and tubes, and its dangerous pointy end, looked most promising indeed.

“What is that?” Razmous asked, intrigued.

“UANP,” the professor answered. “Underwater Arrow of Normal Proportions. It works on the same principle of the UAEP, except it is considerably smaller. The arrow is loaded here-” he pointed to the dangerous end where a large steel arrowhead protruded. “Water is pumped in through the hoses using this hand pump,” he demonstrated, cranking out one of the tubes and pressing it back into place. He handed the weapon to Sir Grumdish, who eyed the strange device with an appraising glance. He hefted it and aimed along the length of the tube at a sharklike shadow passing near the ship.

“The firing mechanism is here,” the professor said, pointing at a large red button on the side. “Be careful, though. You have only one shot, and I’ve had time to build only three.” So saying, he distributed the other two weapons to Chief Portlost and Ensign Wigpillow.

“Gentlegnomes and kender,” Commodore Brigg intoned solemnly, addressing the members of the shore party. “Go with the blessings of Reorx, wherever he may be.” He saluted, thumping himself on the forehead and chest, then tugging his beard. The others returned the salute to the best of their abilities, banging their fists against their glass helmets. With a muffled scream, Ensign Gob tumbled overboard and sank out of sight.