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Ordinary use. Cadma
He reached back over his shoulder to adjust the re-breather apparatus. Very light, very compact, intended for underwater repairs on a docked Minerva. It was certified for an hour of swimming, half that of "vigorous activity." It'll do. Half an hour fighting that thing and one or the other of us won't need oxygen any more. Okay, down we go—
"Cadma
"Go." It was impossible to speak distinctly into the throat microphone.
"I've analyzed the photos. Cadma
It may spend more time underwater than on land."
"Uh-huh." I already thought of that one. And they're hard enough to kill on land... "Thanks. More?"
"No—except, be careful."
"Uh-huh." He stretched and dove down to join the others at their work at the net. He felt the reassuring pressure of Zack's "monster killer" spear gun against his thigh.
Moscowitz had promised them a stopper. Joe Sikes's machine shop had delivered it. The device looked like a pistol with a webbed black plastic grip. Immediately in front of the handpiece was an ammunition clip that looked as if it were constructed for shotgun shells. This was almost true: special cartridges drove carbon-steel-tipped spears carrying enough high explosive to blow the engine out of a Skeeter.
This should stop them, and the net should hold them. Hah. The net had better stop them. This island is starting to look infested with the bastards.
He swam to the cave mouth and waved to the spear gu
Carlos had opened his wet suit down the front. One of the spear guns was strapped to his leg. He worked methodically, carefully, but he never stopped. He'd done that all day, driving Cadma
Welcome to hell, Carlos.
A silver trail of bubbles hobbled from the side of Carlos's mouth, and he gave Cadma
A catfish and a samlon swam by almost in tandem, the samlon close behind, chasing playfully. Cadma
They began to ascend. Cadma
Their heads broke the surface. Both scrambled out in almost comic haste, sucking air. The sun had dipped below the west wall and there were only a few minutes of light left.
Armed men and women surrounded the temporary camp. Packing and crating from boxes of hastily shipped equipment were piled randomly into a central area; no one had taken the time to collect or remove them, but they were out of the way, no shelter for monsters to hide behind. Two machine guns occupied the top of an empty crate.
A faint burning smell hung in the air. The low steady vibration of a flare drill tickled Cadma
Cadma
Skeeters glided across the river. Their searchlights danced yellow ovals on the rushing water. Guards carrying explosive and incendiary rounds patrolled in tight shifts while the technicians erected their tents and tested their equipment. The canyon thrummed with the sound of a Skeeter bringing in a second generator.
Carlos pointed to the machine guns and patrols. "They take you seriously, amigo."
Sure. Now. "Good."
A tent flap raised, and Jerry waved a thin arm at them. "Over here."
"Join you in dos minutos, Cad. Want to get a gel on my face cut."
Cad nodded, then crossed to the tent. He had to duck going in. A small gas heater burned in the corner, and the air was toasty. "What do we have, Jer?"
"Everything you wanted," Jerry answered. He held up a plastic pouch. Its contents seemed darkly purple in the artificial light. "This should do it."
"Great. How are the other preparations going? Andy?"
The big engineer spread out a sheet of color-coded graph sheeting on the table. "Deep radar shows a network of caves going back into the mountains for at least a kilometer. It would be death to go in there and take it on its own terms."
"There's no way in hell to kill it and be sure it's dead unless we go in. You know that."
"Swell. Shit, man. I don't like it at all."
"Have to burn the egg sac," Cadma
Jerry gri
"All right, I grant you that. There may be young. Or eggs. And right now it's wounded. There isn't a better time, but I still don't like it."
"No more do I, but you just do the best you can up here. Do it right, and we won't have anything to do but collect a corpse."
"Corpses, if it has young. All right. Come on."
He led the way out and behind the tent where a tripod-mounted laser drill burned into the ground. The men working the drill were shielded and wore goggles against the glare and the fat sparks that popped and flew like flaming moths. Sizzling melted rock bubbled up out of the cavity, flowed a few inches, then turned sluggish and puddled.
Thirty meters away, a second drill was searing into the rock, and just beyond a rise Cadma
The laser shut down abruptly, and someone yelled, "We're through!"
"Lay the pipe through." Twelve meters of flexible metal piping was run through while the rock was still hot. The top end was fastened to a pump and a twenty-gallon drum.
"What have we got there?" Cadma
"Call it napalm, only nastier. Burns longer, hotter. Top layer will vaporize. When we touch it off there'll be a shock wave that should kill anything down there. Its waste products are toxic, it will burn up any oxygen down there."
"Just like Godzilla. Oxygen destroyer—"
Andy laughed. "Always wondered why they had that film aboard Geographic. This stuff isn't magic, but it's pretty nasty. Homemade, too."
"So was ‘foo-foo gas.'"
"What the hell was that?"
"Gasoline and old-fashioned granular laundry detergent. Big factor in the 1995 Argentine revolution."
"Viva la revolución." Andy gri
"Stealing my lines, compadre?" Carlos joined them. His facial scar was sealed tight under a waterproof astringent salve.
"You'll get your royalty payment." Andy breathed deeply. "You guys ready?" Cadma
Carlos held the spear gun at the ready this time, while Cadma
The pouch was rubbery-firm for a moment, then, as its skin was pierced, it collapsed. Its contents spilled into the river upstream from the cave. The blood streamed through the lamplight in dark tendrils, then was sucked into the cave and vanished.
If it worked, the thing would come streaking out of the cave and into the net. And Cadma
Carlos dimmed his light. Together they waited.
And waited, clinging to anchor spikes. Cadma
And waited.
Nothing.
After ten minutes, they surfaced. Cadma