"Morning. Got everything?" Rachael displayed a case dangling from each hand. Cora carried only a single container. "Don't forget to put on your goggles."

The photosensitive lenses could not completely dam- pen the electrifying brilliance of sunrise on Mou'anui.

It took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust before they left the confines of the dormitory.

Anch.o.r.ed at the end of the main pier was a much larger vessel than the skimmer Core had expected to see. It was a broad-beamed, aerodynamic shape of gray metal with a crimson stripe running around it just above the waterline and with the imprint of the Commonwealth stamped on each side of the bow. Two small beams emerged from the side of the craft facing them and disappeared into the water. A four-foil craft, she reflected.

There was a single, large, above-deck cabin and an enclosed bridge near the bow. The entire craft was

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coated with photovoltaic elements, which would pro- duce plenty of power for the electric engine.

No need to wonder why Sam had chosen such a vessel over a large skimmer. It would be slower, but they were likely to be out on Cachalot's ocean for some time. A skimmer could not hover forever, be- cause it required a type of engine more powerful than anything the sun could fuel. The suprafoil could sit powerless on the water and act like a boat, whereas a skimmer would be helpless, or worse, would sink.

Cora knew from experience that even large skimmers had trouble maneuvering in rough weather. A power- less foil could ride out a storm that would sink a skim- mer in a minute. And on a long journey a foil's spa- ciousness would be more than welcome; it would be vital. No aircraft could provide such comfort, even if Cachalot could afford such expensive luxuries, which it could not.

Mataroreva appeared from below, moved to the dock to help them with their luggage. "E aha te hum -how y'all doing?"

Cora mumbled something about their being ready to go.

"Not a bad ship," he said buoyantly. "I angled for the largest one possible."

"It's more than big enough," Cora agreed, stepping aboard.

"We each have a private cabin," he went on. "Noth- ing like research in style. They let the requisition pa.s.s because this is such important business. And because I told them that you work better when relaxed." He chuckled. "So they let us have the Caribe without so much as a question."

"How nice." Cora noticed that Rachel was bent over one of her cases. It was open. Without surprise she saw that her daughter was carefully inspecting her neurophon.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to play anything."

"Then we're ready to leave-except," she said to Mataroreva, "for Merced." She tugged at the bodice of her suit netting, studied the sh.o.r.e. "Here he comes."

Looking awkward with his burden of cases, the lit- tle oceanographer was jogging hurriedly toward them.

He ran down the dock, tossed the containers up to the waiting Mataroreva with evident disregard for their contents. Cora winced, preferred to think they held no

delicate apparatus.

In a second he had clambered monkeylike over the

side and was standing on deck clad only in a thin swim- suit. His nfliscular body was slightly darker than Sam's, though nowhere near the deep chocolate of her own or Rachael's. A thick mat of black hair covered

his chest.

"That's all of us, then," Rachael said brightly.

"Not quite," Mataroreva corrected her. "There'll be

two more joining us."

Cora frowned at him. "I thought that we three con- st.i.tuted all the imported help."

"You do, but we'll be a.s.sisted by a couple of local

specialists."

Cora was so upset she failed to notice his wink.

"What is this? Hwoshien told us they were all tied up with other projects and didn't have any more time to devote to this problem, or that they'd exhausted their

own ideas."

"Not these two." He grinned at her. "Don't worry,

Cora. They won't intrude on your work. They're com- ing along more to help me than to help you."

More security people, she thought. Yet Hwoshien had told them Sam would be their only escort. She looked down the gangway into the bowels of the

ship.

"Where are they, then?"

"Waiting for us outside the reef." Before she could question him further, he had turned and bounded up toward the bridge.

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"Nice day, Ms. Xamantina." Mereed was standing next to her.

"So far," she replied noncommittally. "Listen, you might as well call me Cora. We're going to be living and working in first-name proximity to each other, so we might as well identify each other the same way."

No point in offending this man, she was thinking.

After all, he was a colleague, though of unproven abil- ity. Like it or not, she was going to be working with him.

"Sure thing . . . Cora." He strolled over to Rachael.

Cora moved forward, away from them. If she re- mained she would overhear their conversation, some- thing she preferred to avoid.

A waking noise was coming from inside the stem.

The suprafoil slipped free of the anchorage. Once out in the lagoon, they turned to port. The waking sound became a steady, rich growl. The wind blew Cora's hair back free of her shoulders and the salt air com- menced its gentle ma.s.sage.

Raised out of the water on four foils, the Caribe was skating across the surface at sixty kilometers an hour, heading northwest. Cora walked to within a cou- ple of meters of the bow, enjoying the smooth ride while at the same time mentally decrying the wasteful- ness. They could have managed efficiently with a ship half the size. She had to admit, though, that having her own cabin would be nice.

The foil was traveling too fast for her to make out anything beneath the blurred surface. A small cloud of icthyomiths, their water-holding sacs fully distended, shot out of the water ahead and curved away to star- board. Following them, her gaze was intercepted by the sight of Sam standing alone up in the enclosed bridge, his huge shoulders blocking out any view of the overhead instruments, pareu rippling in the slight breeze, eyes straight ahead.

For the first time since she had touched down on

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