tering about the pilings. And the fog
thinned with their coming, as if those irregular blotches absorbed and
fed upon the mist. The Terran could see now he had reached the land end
of the jetty. He wedged his flippers into his belt, pulled on over his
feet the covers of salkar-hide Torgul had provided.

Save for his belt, his trunks, and the gill-pack, Ross's body was bare
and the cold caught at him. But, slinging the carry net over his
shoulder, he dropped to the damp sand and stood listening.

The clamor of the attack which had carried all the way offshore to the
Rover cruisers had died away. And there were no more claps of thunder.
Instead, there was now a thick wash of rain.

No more fire rays as he faced seaward. And the fog was lifting, so Ross
could distinguish the settling cutters, their bows still moored to the
jetty. There was no movement there. Had those on the pier fled?

Dot ... dash ... dot ...

Ross did not drop the net. But he crouched back in the half protection
of the piling. For a moment which stretched beyond Terran time measure
he froze so, waiting.

Dot ... dash ... dot ...

Not the prickle induced by the enemy installations, it was a real coded
call picked up by his sonic, and one he knew.

Don't rush, he told himself sharply--play it safe. By rights only two
people in this time and place would know that call. And one would have
no reason to use it. But--a trap? This could be a trap. Awe of the
Foanna powers had touched him a little in spite of his off-world
skepticism. He could be lured now by someone using Ashe's call.

Ross stripped for action after a fashion, bundling the net and its
contents into a hollow he scooped behind a pile well above water level.
The alien hand weapon he had left with Karara, not trusting it to the
sea. But he had his diver's knife and his two hands which, by training,
could be, and had been, deadly weapons.

With the sonic against the bare skin of his middle where it would
register strongest, knife in hand, Ross moved into the open. The
floating patches did not supply much light, but he was certain the call
had come from the jetty.

There was movement there--a flash or two. And the sonic? Ross had to be
sure, very sure. The broadcast was certainly stronger when he faced in
that direction. Dared he come into the open? Perhaps in the dark he
could cut Ashe away from his captors so they could swim for it together.

Ross clicked a code reply. Dot ... dot ...