The Legacy Of Heorot by Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle & Steven Barnes

Author:Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle & Steven Barnes [Niven, Larry & Pournelle, Jerry & Barnes, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction
Published: 2011-01-09T06:00:00+00:00

DESCENT INTO HELL

One of the greatest blessings of virtue is the contempt of death. He who has learned how to die has unlearned how to serve. To be ready to die frees us from all bondage and thralldom. MONTAIGNE, Essays

Cadmann wiped at his faceplate twice before he realized that the stain was on the inside. He waved to one of the waiting spearmen, got a nod and surfaced. Fresh air tasted good. He removed the faceplate and spat into it, rubbed out the fog and rinsed it. Better. The Miskatonic churned around him. Even with weight belt and tether line, the current threw his balance off, increased irritability, drained his strength. The wet suit slowed his every motion. And well worth it! Many a man had survived a shark attack because of his wet suit. A wet suit didn't taste like blood; and if something tore into him anyway, it could hold him together like a body bandage until a doctor could reach him. But he felt slow. He dared not hurry. Methodically he prepared himself for war, knowing that the enemy would interrupt him when it chose. Anchoring the net had been nightmarish: two men hammering and screwing meter-long barbed steel stakes into the mud and rock around the cave, a third man hovering back, underwater lamp and spear gun at the ready. The net itself was stronger than steel cable and as thin as spider silk, a synthetic organic polymer that was predicted to last for hundreds of years of ordinary use. No lesser durability would have been approved for shipment aboard Geographic. Ordinary use. Cadmann smiled thinly into his faceplate. This evening's exercise would hardly be considered that. 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-- "Cadmann, this is Sylvia." "Go." It was impossible to speak distinctly into the throat microphone. "I've analyzed the photos. Cadmann, that thing has to be amphibious. 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.

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