The Incredible Tide Read Online Free PDF

“Don’t be ridiculous! Soon everyone at High Harbor will be glad to have citizenship. If you’ll take my advice—”
    â€œI said, shut up!” the commissioner ordered again. Then he roared, “Citizen Repko!”
    A large, pale-eyed, loose-jointed man, heavy-featured and almost beardless, appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Citizen Commissioner?”
    â€œTake this young fool,” growled the commissioner, “see that he’s marked and listed, then send him back for assignment.”
    Conan was thrust into the other room and made to stand at attention while Citizen Repko, with obvious enjoyment, used a stylus and a paperlike piece of plastic to record his name, date of rescue, and other pertinent information. Finally Citizen Repko took what appeared to be a thick metal tube from his desk, and ordered him to stand against the wall.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Conan asked suspiciously. “What are you going to do?”
    â€œShut up and hold still!” he was told.
    He saw that the other men in the room were watching expectantly while one end of the tube was placed against his forehead. There was a click as a spring was drawn back, then a sudden snap that made him gasp as hundreds of stinging needlepoints were driven into his skin.
    He jerked angrily away. “What—what have you done to me?” he demanded.
    â€œLook in the mirror,” said the wielder of the tube, smirking. “See how pretty we’ve made you!”
    Conan whirled and stared into a cracked glass hanging near the door. On the forehead of the incredulous face staring back at him was a large scarlet cross. An indelible cross, for now he remembered that this was how the old Peace Union used to mark its prisoners—with a tattooing machine that drove the color into the skin.
    He touched the blazing mark with trembling fingers and turned slowly, outraged. Even then he might have held his mounting fury in check. But the sudden raucous laughter of the four men watching him was too much.
    All at once a cry of pure hate tore from his throat. Before anyone realized what he was doing, he had snatched the tube from the grinning Repko and thrust it against the man’s forehead. It was done so quickly and with such force that Repko was slammed backward and pinned in a corner. In his rage Conan did not even think of setting the tube’s mechanism, but it hardly mattered. The dye-colored needles were already protruding. The sting of them brought a howl, and Citizen Repko fell writhing to the floor.
    Conan turned at the sound of angry voices. Two men seized his arms, and a third tried to jerk the tube from his grasp. He jammed it into the fellow’s forehead, then spun about, using the tube as a club. It broke finally, for it seemed to be made of some light cast metal. But by this time there was no one left who felt like tackling him, not even the red-bearded commissioner who stood gaping in his office door.
    With a last surge of temper Conan pounded the end of the tube upon the floor until it was beyond repair, then flung it in Red Beard’s face.
    He made no resistance when men poured in from the hall and seized him.
    Six quiet, graying men marched him outside and across the square. With hardly a word they shoved him along the untidy waterfront to a half-submerged area, and over to a concrete cubicle built into a wall. The place looked as if it might once have been a sentry box. He was thrust inside—thrust almost gently, it seemed—and the small plastic door was closed and locked.
    Through the narrow slits in the walls he peered curiously out at the men, wondering what they were. Surely not regular guards. They had spoken but little while he was with them, but as the group turned to go back he heard one of them say in a low tone, “Did you see what he did to Repko?”
    There were soft chuckles, and another said, “Haggel got it too. Most of the dye was gone, though it came