“Please, spare me the cracks about ‘drowned kittens,’ will you?” she said.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, mopping at his face with a sleeve. He was equally drenched. “I’m too tired. Damn lucky thing that first wave was as small as it was. Some of those later ones could have piled us into the rocks. Did you see anything?”

“Only a glimpse here and there. Mostly I was too busy holding onto that branch.”

“Quite a sight. One second it was thrashing around like a loose ship-drive, smashing pecces and throwing up great gouts of water and sea-bottom. Then it seemed to sort of shudder lightly. It just fell in on itself and dissolved like black sugar.” He removed a soggy boot, dumped a trickle of water out of it.

She shrugged. “Funny. I’d kind of expected something a little more spectacular after that build-up. I don’t think it made a sound the whole time we were watching it. A violent, quiet end to everything. I wonder if we’ll ever find out where it came from?” She was shaking water from the bottom of her blouse.

“Almost everything,” he said cryptically. He took a step closer and gently placed a palm between her shoulders. She had just enough time for one quick, startled look as he shoved hard sideways, at the same time sitting down on a water-soaked but serviceable log. She folded neatly across his knees.

Keeping his left arm firmly across the small of her back, he lifted his right leg and hooked it over her left thigh. The resultant pose was classic, if undignified.

Kitten made a firm, sudden shove upwards, frowned when no give was forthcoming. Bracing her hands on the damp ground she pushed harder. She might as well have been trying to push her way out of an armored hunting cage.

“All right, Captain Hammurabi. My sense of humor is departing swiftly. If you wouldn’t mind letting me up . . .?”

“If you’ll think back a moment,” he went on easily, “you’ll recall that just prior to agreeing to make a certain jaunt with you to a certain Enclave, with certain suicidal desires in mind, I made you a promise. You may remember the substance . . .” She struggled harder and much less scientifically now.

“Striking an officer of the Church can be ruled a capital offense!”

“I’ll take that chance, Lieutenant. But I keep my word and my promises. It’s good business practice. I’ll risk a restraining term. This won’t take long. I suggest you strive to consider the philosophical aspects of the situation. You’re good at that.”

The ship-captain’s palm had the seeming consistency of solid duralloy. The Lieutenant’s often violent protests for the next several minutes of measured activity were of a nature far removed from anything philosophical.

Mal sighed and looked over to where Kitten was leaning against a tree. He made an adjustment on the small communit he’d salvaged from the ruins of the waveskimmer. He’d modified it to throw off a long-range homing signal on a widely used distress frequency. It would continue to cast for about an hour before the powerful little battery would burn out.