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unexpected assault."
Evan considered. It was a good idea, a sound idea, and if it failed they could always try something else.
There was only one drawback.
"That means," he said slowly, "I would have to put my head under the water. Without any kind of
protec-tion."
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"Soft things can do that. I've seen them myself," Azure argued.
"For a minute or two, sure, but what happens if I succeed and instead of retreating the grampion decides
to envelop me the way it has you? I can't sit on the bottom until it gets bored. I'll drown-that's what
happens to us soft things if we're forced to ingest large quantities of water."
"The shock should be sufficient to induce it to flee," the library said.
"Should be. What if you're wrong?"
The library had no reply to that one, nor had Evan expected one. The elements of the equation were
unchanged. If he somehow couldn't free his companions from the grampion's grasp, all of them would
die.
Damn morality, anyway. Why did it always have to show its fatuous, grinning self and make garbage of
other-wise simple decisions?
He kicked until he was floating directly over the center of the rippling black surface. How muscular was
it? The more he thought about it the less sense the plan of action made.
"Get ready to divert it if it comes for me." Who said that? Not Evan Orgell, surely!
"We will do our utmost." That from all the warriors, speaking at him simultaneously. "As we would for
any member of the Associative."
"I'm not a member of your Associative. I'm a carbon-based nonphotovore."
"What of that?" the library shot back. "An Associative is an organization of compatible minds, not
superstructures."
Too much philosophy, wrong time and place. He con-sidered how best to proceed, then let loose of the
floats. His intention was to achieve the maximum possible impact on the grampion's dorsal side. He'd
seen pictures of peo-ple diving, of the whales of Cachalot performing. The motion was not difficult.
Taking several deep breaths, he arched his back and kicked hard. The added weight of his froporia suit
helped him gain momentum and he struck the grampion with both fists. Then he turned and kicked for the
surface. In so doing he struck the creature with his feet far harder than he had with his hands.
The reaction was considerably more violent than he'd anticipated. There was an explosion of water and
black flesh. He was tumbled over and over until he was com-pletely disoriented. Instead of a black sheet
he saw white sand beneath him.
Then the blackness was gone. He kicked out wildly with hands and feet, attacking the water and going
nowhere until he remembered something read long ago. He forced himself to relax, and it worked. His
body oriented itself properly and he began to drift upward. As soon as he was certain of the direction he
began kicking furiously again. His chest threatened to explode.
Air then, filling his starved lungs with a painful rush. After taking several deep breaths he searched for his
float. There was no sign of it, not even downriver.
He discovered that by continuing to kick he could not only move forward but could stay afloat. As he
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paddled with agonizing slowness toward the far bank he fought to shake the water out of his bulbous
sunshades.
"What happened?"
"It's gone." There was excitement in Azure's voice. "It was above us and then it was as though a piece of
the night was flying down the canyon. You're not injured?"
"Only mentally." Looking down, he could see them moving across the bottom beneath him. "I wonder
why it didn't fight back."
"Surprise, for one thing. No claws or teeth for another, and it could not be sure of your weapons."
"Fortunately for me."
"Where is your float? You are not sinking."
"No. The suit forces me to work harder than I other-wise should have to, but we humans are a little
lighter than water. We're mostly water ourselves. I'm managing. Don't ask me how, but I'm managing."
"We will stay close to you."
"Terrific. You can catch me when I sink." He didn't respond to any more questions, needing all his
strength for the complex mechanics of swimming. No wonder the advanced citizens of Samstead had
chosen to eschew its dubious delights. To think that the inhabitants of other worlds regarded it as
recreation.
At the last he was sure he wasn't going to make the shore, that all his efforts were in vain and he was
doomed to sink like a stone to the bottom of the river. But he didn't sink, because suddenly something
was supporting him from below. Looking down he saw Azure. The scout was standing atop a warrior,
who was standing atop another warrior, who stood atop yet a third. They carried him the rest of the way
until the water was shallow enough for him to stand. Once he'd managed to assume an erect posture
again, staggering the rest of the way to shore was easy. He let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the
beach.
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