"But we'll be blown out to sea!"
"I know. But Island Eight is about thirty-five miles away, and straight downwind as nearly as I can judge. We won't have much trouble hitting it-there's a com pass here. We'll see it from miles away, and the tank there is unusually high, so ifwe miss the line a little we can still correct before we get there. Right now the important thing is to clear Ell's reef."
"And stay, afloat."
Maeta gestured that qualification away with a toss of her head. She knew there was no worry from wind or wave on the open sea as long as she could manipulate a paddle. The confidence of competence was perhaps slightly inflated, by the arrogance of youth, but she did know what she was doing. The error of putting to sea at all that day had been the result of attaching too much weight to factors unrelated to the weather; she would, she still felt, do the same thing again as long as she could feel reasonably sure of delivering the message.
"How about the reef at Eight?" yelled Bob. "I've never been there."
"Neither have I," was the answer, "but Charlie says the passage is on this side and wide enough to be no problem-the tankers get in. Keep paddling just a little longer, Andy; you're doing fine."
She had gradually been heading more to the north as they drew away from Ell. Now, sure of her clear ance, she bore around to the northeast and put the wind directly behind them. Andre was allowed to stop paddling, and Maeta herself eased off her efforts to what was necessary to hold their heading. They passed the northwest fringe of Ell's reef with two or three hundred yards to spare, though the breakers looked un-comfortably close to Bob.
Then there was empty sea before them. Maeta had estimated their speed, from the time it took to pass familiar objects along the northern reef, at about six knots-the wind, of course, was much higher, but had much less grip on the outrigger than the water did. This meant that the best part of six hours would be needed to reach Island Eight.
There was no danger of anyone's going to sleep. The canoe pitched violently enough to make it necessary to hold on most of the time, and spray blown from the tops of the waves made it necessary to bail fairly often. It was not, except for the first few minutes of doubt, a frightening trip even for the boy. None of them was really comfortable in the wind and spray, of course; Maeta put her slacks and shirt back on, soaked as they were, and Andre, who was clad only in shorts, forgot his independence and indifference enough to snuggle close to Bob for warmth. The Hunter thought of making a direct check for the presence of his not-certainly-dead quarry in the youngster's body, but could not be sure that it would be safe. If the boy moved very much, especially if he pulled away, while the alien was partly in one body and partly in the other, the results would be extremely unfortunate. The detective could of course afford to lose a few tiny tendrils, as he had at the ship, but such appendages might not be enough to find the other being. If the fugitive were actually there, he was aware of the Hunter's presence in Bob's body from the latter's recovery from the heart wound, and would be hiding-withdrawn into a single mass, or a few small masses, in body cavities, rather than spread out through the boy's system in a network ready for protective duty.
The Hunter mentioned all this to his host, and Bob agreed that unless the boy fell asleep the direct search would be unwise. Andre did not fall asleep.
By mid-afternoon, the tank of Island Eight was visible directly ahead. It was of experimental design, more than twice the usual twelve-to-fifteen-foot height of PFI's culture tanks, and visible from a much greater distance.
Unfortunately, the experiment had not been very successful, and at the moment the unit was unused and the small atoll it occupied was uninhabited.
Half an hour after the first sighting, the breakers marking the reef became visible. At first, they stretched an equal distance to each side of the bow, with no sign of a break. Even Maeta was getting tense -it would soon be impossible to clear either side of the white water-when they finally sighted the pas sage, a little to their left. The girl altered their course slightly, and presently told Andre to start paddling again. Bob and the Hunter, neither able to do any thing constructive, could only watch with increasing tension as the breakers drew closer. An occasional glance back at Maeta's face was somewhat reassuring, but not entirely; one could interpret her expression as one either of concentration or of worry.
The passage might, as Maeta's brother had said, be wide enough for a small tanker, but it looked awkwardly narrow at the moment. It was straight, the girl knew-it would have been made so for the tankers if it had not been that way naturally-but unfortunately it was not quite in the wind's direction. Once into it, they would have to paddle hard to the right to avoid being blown into the left side of the channel. Maeta, to give them as much room as possible for leeway, cut as closely as she dared to the breakers on the right as they entered.
The reef was low, and gave no protection at all from the wind. It broke the waves, but this was worse than useless; instead of coming harmlessly under their stern and lifting the canoe for a moment, the water now was hurled skyward by the coral and shredded into spray by the wind. As the outrigger made its turn into the passage, everyone aboard was blinded, and the canoe itself began to fill rapidly.
"Both of you bail!" cried Maeta. "I'll do the paddling!"
She could not see where they were going, and her only way to maintain heading was to keep the impact of the spray on the right side of her back. No one with only human senses and muscles could have done much better.
They emerged from the worst of the spray to find themselves almost on the coral that rimmed the left side of the passage. Maeta made a frantic effort to sweep them still more to the right, but simply wasn't strong enough. They very nearly made it, but struck unyielding coral only a yard or two from the relative safety of the lagoon.
The main hull of the canoe may have survived briefly, but the three human bodies were hurled for ward. Bob struck Andre a split second before Maeta hurtled into both of them. There was another violent bump which they deduced later was the boy striking the bow of the canoe. The tangled bodies did a half somersault, found themselves either under water or in spray too dense to let them breathe, and felt one more violent shock. Then they were lying together on hard sand, spray still blowing over them.
Bob was conscious and not too badly hurt. The
Hunter had taken care, reflexively, of a number of small cuts from coral, but he had been cushioned to a large extent by the other two bodies. Neither of these was nearly as well off.
13. Reconstruction
Andre was unconscious, but had only minor visible cuts and scrapes. Though this would have been a good time to check for the presence of a symbiont, Bob paid little attention to him, because Maeta was in far worse condition. She had been underneath when they hit the coral. Deep cuts covered her back and hips, and much flesh had been torn from her right leg. Arterial blood was spurting over the sand, and being quickly diluted to invisibility by the spray.
Bob and his partner saw and evaluated the situation instantly, and reacted almost as promptly. The human member of the team grasped the injured leg just above the knee, pressed the heel of his hand against the most prominent source of bleeding, and snapped to his partner, "Get in there and earn your living! I'll hold on long enough to be sure you're there, but give me a twinge, in the palm of the hand ten seconds or so before you're completely out of me."
The Hunter, just for a moment, thought of objecting on the grounds that Bob was his primary responsibility and was also injured. He even started to mention this, though he had already started the transfer and knew what Bob's answer would be. He was right.