Part 17 (2/2)

Kurvan s.h.i.+fted his position, probing down with the pole, and with his movements, Tsia's face slapped water in a flare of green sparks. She jerked her face out. ”Stop it. Stop!” she choked. ”You're driving him under!”

”I almost had him,” Kurvan snarled.

”I do have him,” she returned savagely. ”Get back. Ease back-let Doetzier through.”

Even in the dark, she could feel the other mere by those tiny dots in his field. Lights of hope, she thought as he shoved the configured e-wrap platform forward. Kurvan rolled away to the side. Two of the packs' antigravs were fixed to the corner of the e-wrap, and the flexible platform rested on the water and weeds. She could feel the whine of the power cells on the edges of the wrap. The sound cut through her biogate like a sonic on full, and she could not stop the snarl that stretched across her face.

”Have you got an enbee?” she snapped at Doetzier.

He jerked it from his harness and held it out over the water to Tsia's stretched-out hand. But the wind gusted, and Kurvan lost his balance. The mere fell against Doetzier and the enbee disappeared in the brash.

”s.h.i.+t!” Kurvan lunged after it, but missed.

”It's gone,” snapped Doetzier, hauling at his shoulder. ”Let it go. Give Feather a hand.”

She glared at Doetzier as if she did not see him. ”Hurry,” she snarled.

”Do you have him?”

”Barely, Hurry.”

”Don't let go.”

”G.o.ddam it, then, hurry!”

”Give me the pole,” he directed Kurvan. The other mere shoved the metaplas length across the gra.s.s. But the gra.s.s mat rippled. Kurvan and Doetzier both fought for footing. Kurvan started sinking, and Doetzier fell against him. The tip of the pole caught in the water. Silently, neatly, with a line of green light to show the path of its pa.s.sage, it slid from Kurvan's hand like gla.s.s and sank beneath the surface, just out of Doetzier's reach. Violently, Kurvan cursed.

”I'm slipping.” Tsia's voice was matter-of-fact now. The hand clenching hers seemed to tighten. Just before he died. The sense of Wren was no longer sharp in her gate. The chill tang, cold, like old metal, was not as strong on her tongue. She tried to reach his biofield, but she could feel only a cold deliberation not to move. A steady determination that faded with every breath she let out of her lungs. ”Do something,” she cried out. ”I'm losing him!”

Doetzier looked up, met her eyes, saw the bared teeth and the wildness that stretched taut across her face. ”The antigrav isn't strong enough. He has to get rid of the pack.”

”He's carrying the scame-the med gear, not just the breaker gear.”

”It's too heavy. He's got to drop it.”

”I told him not to move.” And he could not hear her anyway, said some back, callous part of her brain. He was already almost unconscious. The filmed messages she pressed against his skin created no response. The only thing left in his brain was a frozen certainty that if he moved, he would make it worse.

”If he stays as he is,” Doetzier snapped, ”if he keeps the pack, we can't bring him up through the gra.s.s. We have no way to cut the growth. My flexor doesn't work against it. Does yours?”

”Of course not.”

”We can't tear it or we fall in ourselves-”

”For Daya's sake, don't tear it,” she snapped back. ”Those roots are the only thing other than my fingers holding him near the surface. If he sinks beneath the mat, he won't come up again. There are eels down there. And sucker fish. He's out of air. He has to come up nowl” Doetzier clenched one hand in a half fist as if he could strike some sense into her across the short expanse. ”He has”-his voice was cold and clear-”to get rid of the pack. Signal him with your hands.”

”G.o.ddam you,” she screamed. ”He's unconscious.”

”You're a guide,” he snarled in return. ”Reach him through your gate. Force him to think again. To fight.”

Tsia glared at him, at Bowdie, at Kurvan. At Nitpicker, who eased up from behind the other three. Her eyes were wild. ”Where's the line?”

”Striker's digging it out. We configured the e-wrap first.”

”Then give me the sleeve of your blunter.”

He did not hesitate. He shrugged out of the jacket and twisted one sleeve around his hand. He threw the other across to her. She barely had time to wrap it once around her hand before she started to sink forward. She twisted her head to stare down into the water. Gray water. Green sparks. The stench of rotting weeds and roots. Her eyes turned to Doetzier's. Her voice, when she spoke, had a curious, pleading sound. ”Don't let me go.”

He nodded. She hesitated, then lunged forward and down, and into the depths of the swamp.

Swirling, circling sparks... Her right arm caught with a wrench as the blunter jerked taut between them. Then she sank down by Wren's body. As her feet hit his chest, she hauled up on his weight and kicked her legs around him. Roots caught on her neck and she flinched at their touch. She could see nothing but glinting, greenish sparks that lit the bubbles of her movements. She could feel only wirelike strands that matted like wet string in the wind.

She tore at Wren's pack. The brash caught in her fingers like old pasta, and in her frustration, she screamed through her biogate. A violent surge answered like a wave that rolled through her mind. Claws seemed to grab at her flesh. And then her hand caught a seal. Instantly, she stripped it open and jerked it from his limp shoulder. Like claws, her fingers raged at the straps. Water and weeds swirled in her face. Fish b.u.mped her legs and back. She could feel the pressure of the water. Or was it that of her heart?

Ruka was tearing at her thoughts. She was swimming-no, she was fighting with Wren's pack. Its weight pulled back, then sank slowly down in the gra.s.s, pulling a ma.s.s of brash after it like a slow, green-lit whirlpool. The root mat tore.

Rotted gra.s.s was in Tsia's nose, weeds across her eyes. Ruka screamed in her head and leaped across the flooded creek to race toward her through the gra.s.s. She thought she saw stars in the sky. No-that was phosphor in the water. She was still looking down.

Doetzier hauled her up till her arm flopped over the edge of the e-wrap platform and tilted the raft in the water. He could not lift her further, her legs wrapped stubbornly around Wren's waist.

”Striker,” he cursed, ”I need help.”

It was Nitpicker who crawled out and dug her fingers into Tsia's s.h.i.+rt. Together, they hauled up the guide. As Tsia's shoulders cleared the raft, the top of Wren's head broke the surface in a soft wash of green light.

”Let go,” Doetzier snapped at Tsia. ”Let go, so we can bring him up.”

Can't let go, she snarled back in her head. Won't. She struggled weakly in his grip. The antigravs whined into breakdown, and the energy field pulsed in the water.

”Let go-Feather,” he snapped, ”give him up.”

”You'll drop him!” she cried out as his hands tried to pry off her legs.

”G.o.ddammit!” He shoved her back, and she lost her grip. Then Doetzier got Wren by the shoulders and

hauled up so that the other mere's face was clear. Water washed over the raft's edge.

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