“Looks like it’s lying just under the surface of the water. Right about where the reef ends, which isn’t far enough away for my liking. Funny how peaceful this all is. The reef runs out about another twelve meters past the skimmer and then seems to drop off sharply. From there on as far as I can see the water’s black as ink, like you could walk on it.”

She left the port and moved back to the doorway. Mal moved up behind her as she stepped gingerly from the raft. Bracing a hand against each side of the doorway, he saw that the pecces itself lay barely ankle deep, even protruding above the water in several places. The Vom claimed his attention almost immediately.

Mal felt as though he were standing in front of an armed SCCAM shell. “It may be intelligent enough, but it sure doesn’t seem to notice us.”

“We don’t know how it perceives things,” said Kitten as she picked her way over the uneven, slippery footing. “For all we can tell it might be paying all its attention to us. Waiting to see what the lab animals try next, I guess. Since it could have killed us at will before I don’t think it intends to. Yet.” She turned, “You’re higher than I am. Any sign of the old bastard?”

Mal leaned out, hooking an arm around the doorway. A brief spell of nausea, then the sea air cleared his head completely. Peering around the front of the uptilted raft, he could see the top of the waveskimmer easily. The bottom of the bigger ship had been shaved off as neatly as though with a laser. It lay tail up, part of its curved bow just under the nose of the hoveraft.

A recognizably human figure was strapped motionless in the foredeck pilot’s seat.

“Looks like he wasn’t thrown free. Seems to be light-out, though.”

“Any sign of the case?”

“Sure is. It’s still chained to his right wrist. Appears to be locked firm. All the jerking and wrenching around didn’t tear it loose.”

“Is he alive?”

“Can’t tell. He’s sure not preparing violent resistance.”

“He’d better be alive. Otherwise it’s liable to take us days to figure out how to open that thing. You can bet it’s armed or full of acid or something. We haven’t got days. What are you doing?”

Mal had carefully edged out around the edge of the doorway. It wasn’t a long fall but the surface was sharp and inhospitable. The air cushion around the base of the raft was thoroughly shredded. There was, however, a ridge of metal running the circumference of the ship. The smooth sides of the craft made walking on the centimeters-wide strip difficult, but the captain’s bulk belied his agility. He started edging towards the bow, pressed flat against the side of the craft.

From the bow it was only a short hop to the canted deck of the skimmer. He walked over to the motionless drugger, felt the thin wrist. The pulse was strong.