Malvern had no objections to my testing things this way. In fact, heencouraged it. We had sailed together before and our positions had even beenreversed upon a time. So I wasn't surprised when I stepped off the lift intothe Hopkins Locker and found him waiting. For the next ten minutes weinspected the big room in silence, walking through its copper coil chamberssoon to be Arctic.

Finally, he slapped a wall.

"Well, will we find it?"

I shook my head.

"I'd like to, but I doubt it. I don't give two hoots and a damn whogets credit for the catch, so long as I have a part in it. But it won'thappen. That gal's an egomaniac. She'll want to operate the Slider, and shecan't."

"You ever meet her?"

"Yeah."

"How long ago?"

"Four, five years."

"She was a kid then. How do you know what she can do now?"

"I know. She'll have learned every switch and reading by this time.She'll be all up on theory. But do you remember one time we were together inthe starboard Rook, forward, when Ikky broke water like a porpoise?"

"Well?"

He rubbed his emery chin.

"Maybe she can do it, Carl. She's raced torch ships and she's scubaedin bad waters back home." He glanced in the direction of invisible Hand."And she's hunted in the Highlands. She might be wild enough to pull thathorror into her lap without flinching.

"...For Johns Hopkins to foot the bill and shell out seven figures forthe corpus," he added. "That's money, even to a Luharich."

I ducked through a hatchway.

"Maybe you're right, but she was a rich witch when I knew her.

"And she wasn't blonde," I added, meanly.

He yawned.

"Let's find breakfast."

We did that.

When I was young I thought that being born a sea creature was thefinest choice Nature could make for anyone. I grew up on the Pacific coastand spent my summers on the Gulf or the Mediterranean. I lived months of mylife negotiating with coral, photographing trench dwellers, and playing tagwith dolphins. I fished everywhere there are fish, resenting the fact thatthey can go places I can't. When I grew older I wanted a bigger fish, andthere was nothing living that I knew of, excepting a Sequoia, that came anybigger than Ikky. That's part of it....

I jammed a couple of extra rolls into a paper bag and filled a thermoswith coffee. Excusing myself, I left the gallery and made my way to theSlider berth. It was just the way I remembered it. I threw a few switchesand the shortwave hummed.

"That you, Carl?"

"That's right, Mike. Let me have some juice down here, youdouble-crossing rat."

He thought it over, then I felt the hull vibrate as the generators cutin. I poured my third cup of coffee and found a cigarette.

"So why am I a double-crossing rat this time?" came his voice again.

"You knew about the cameraman at Hangar Sixteen?"

"Yes."

"Then you're a double-crossing rat. The last thing I want is publicity.'He who fouled up so often before is ready to try it, nobly, once more.' Ican read it now."

"You're wrong. The spotlight's only big enough for one, and she'sprettier than you."

My next comment was cut off as I threw the elevator switch and theelephant ears flapped above me. I rose, settling flush with the deck.Retracting the lateral rail, I cut forward into the groove. Amidships, Istopped at a juncture, dropped the lateral, and retracted the longitudinalrail.

I slid starboard, midway between the Rooks, halted, and threw on thecoupler.

I hadn't spilled a drop of coffee.

"Show me pictures."

The screen glowed. I adjusted and got outlines of the bottom.

"Okay."

I threw a Status Blue switch and he matched it. The light went on.

The winch unlocked. I aimed out over the waters, extended an arm, andfired a cast.

"Clean one," he commented.

"Status Red. Call strike." I threw a switch.

"Status Red."

The baitman would be on his way with this, to make the barbs tempting.

It's not exactly a fishhook. The cables bear hollow tubes; the tubesconvey enough dope for an army of hopheads; Ikky takes the bait, dandledbefore him by remote control, and the fisherman rams the barbs home.

My hands moved over the console, making the necessary adjustments. Ichecked the narco-tank reading. Empty. Good, they hadn't been filled yet. Ithumbed the inject button.

"In the gullet," Mike murmured.

I released the cables. I played the beast imagined. I let him run,swinging the winch to simulate his sweep.

I had the air conditioner on and my shirt off and it was stilluncomfortably hot, which is how I knew that morning had gone over into noon.I was dimly aware of the arrivals and departures of the hoppers. Some of thecrew sat in the "shade" of the doors I had left open, watching theoperation. I didn't see Jean arrive or I would have ended the session andgotten below.

She broke my concentration by slamming the door hard enough to shakethe bond.

"Mind telling me who authorized you to bring up the Slider?" she asked.

"No one," I replied. "I'll take it below now."

"Just move aside."

I did, and she took my seat. She was wearing brown slacks and a baggyshirt and she had her hair pulled back in a practical manner. Her cheekswere flushed, but not necessarily from the heat. She attacked the panel witha nearly amusing intensity that I found disquieting.

"Status Blue," she snapped, breaking a violet fingernail on the toggle.

I forced a yawn and buttoned my shirt slowly. She threw a side glancemy way, checked the registers, and fired a cast.

I monitored the lead on the screen. She turned to me for a second.

"Status Red," she said levelly.

I nodded my agreement.

She worked the winch sideways to show she knew how. I didn't doubt sheknew how and she didn't doubt that I didn't doubt, but then--

"In case you're wondering," she said, "you're not going to be anywherenear this thing. You were hired as a baitman, remember? Not a Slideroperator! A baitman! Your duties consist of swimming out and setting thetable for our friend the monster. It's dangerous, but you're getting wellpaid for it. Any questions?"

She squashed the Inject button and I rubbed my throat.

"Nope," I smiled, "but I am qualified to run that thingamajigger--andif you need me I'll be available, at union rates."

"Mister Davits," she said, "I don't want a loser operating this panel."

"Miss Luharich, there has never been a winner at this game."

She started reeling in the cable and broke the bond at the same time,so that the whole Slider shook as the big yo-yo returned. We skidded acouple of feet backward. She raised the laterals and we shot back along thegroove. Slowing, she transferred rails and we jolted to a clanging halt,then shot off at a right angle. The crew scrambled away from the hatch as weskidded onto the elevator.

"In the future, Mister Davits, do not enter the Slider without beingordered," she told me.

"Don't worry. I won't even step inside if I am ordered," I answered. "Isigned on as a baitman. Remember? If you want me in here, you'll have to_ask_ me."

"That'll be the day," she smiled.

I agreed, as the doors closed above us. We dropped the subject andheaded in our different directions after the Slider came to a halt in itsberth. She did not say "good day," though, which I thought showed breedingas well as determination, in reply to my chuckle.

Later that night Mike and I stoked our pipes in Malvern's cabin. Thewinds were shuffling waves, and a steady pattering of rain and hail overheadturned the deck into a tin roof.