water level, the Slider has to implement elevation for six to
eight feet before the graffles are in a position to push upward,
rather than pulling.
The Slider, essentially, is a mobile rooma big box capable of
moving in any of Tensquare's crisscross groovings and
"anchoring" on the strike side by means of a powerful
electromagnetic bond. Its winches could hoist a battleship the
necessary distance, and the whole craft would tilt, rather than
the Slider come loose, if you want any idea of the strength of
that bond.
The Slider houses a section operated control indicator which
is the most sophisticated "reel" ever designed. Drawing
broadcast power from the generator beside the center blister, it
is connected by shortwave with the sonar room, where the
movements of the quarry are recorded and repeated to the
angler seated before the section control.
The fisherman might play his "lines" for hours, days even,
without seeing any more than metal and an outline on the
screen. Only when the beast is graffled and the extensor shelf,
located twelve feet below waterline, slides out for support and
begins to aid the winches, only then does the fisherman see his
catch rising before him like a fallen seraph. Then, as Davits
learned, one looks into the Abyss itself and is required to act.
He didn't, and a hundred meters of unimaginable tonnage,
undernarcotized and hurting, broke the cables of the winch,
snapped a graffle, and took a half-minute walk across
Tensquare.
We circled till the mechanical flag took notice and waved us
on down. We touched beside the personnel hatch and I
jettisoned my gear and jumped to the deck.
"Luck," called the pilot as the door was sliding shut. Then he
danced into the air and the flag clicked blank.
I shouldered my stuff and went below.
Signing in with Malvern, the de facto captain, I learned that
most of the others wouldn't arrive for a good eight'hours. They
had wanted me alone at Cal's so they could pattern the pub
footage along twentieth-century cinema lines.
Open: landing strip, dark. One mechanic prodding a
contrary hopper. Stark-o-vision shot of slow bus pulling in.
Heavily dressed baitman descends, looks about, limps across
field. Closeup: he grins. Move in for words: "Do you think this
is the time? The time he will be landed?" Embarrassment,
taciturnity, a shrug. Dub something."I see. And why do you
think Miss Luharich has a better chance than any of the others?
Is it because she's better equipped? [Grin.] Because more is
known now about the creature's habits than when you were out
before? Or is it because of her will to win, to be a champion? Is
it any one of these things, or is it all of them?" Reply: "Yeah, all
of them.""Is that why you signed on with her? Because your
instincts say, 'This one will be if?" Answer: "She pays union
