SImp

I left the cave and reentered the open ocean, my thoughts leaving the puzzle of the multiple conspiracies behind almost as if I had burst free from a birth canal into the light. Thoughts of Serina intruded, even if she was just a pawn, she was still my best lead. The coast was clear, so I started back to the grotto.

"Duck!" Imp yelled. I pulled myself into a ball and the spear from a spear thrower passed by so close that I felt the sting of it as it brushed across my back.

I allowed myself to go limp and drift lifelessly in the current; blood clouded the water from the scratch on my back. Maybe whoever it was would think that I was dead and come out of hiding. I saw a ghost image appear from the area where the meeting had taken place. Whoever it was must have had orders that no one near here is to survive.

Imp detected the sound of a new spear on its way. He overrode my muscles, twisting my body towards the optimum path for escape while at the same time he caused me to use my max effort to kick up a storm, and I jetted out of the clearing darting behind a huge coral colony. Trying desperately to pull in enough oxygen through my gills to replenish my oxygen-starved body after that almost herculean effort I decided to come up with a plan that left him dead and me alive. Playing dead certainly did not work I thought. We continued playing tag; I was trying to avoid becoming a pin cushion while whoever he was, was trying to get a clean shot. And of the two of us, he was the better.

The lack of oxygen was causing black-outs as time, and time again I dodged death. Imp and I concluded that there were at least two people taking pot shots at me. And while my gill mask kept my identity safe. If they managed to get a solid hit, well frankly it would not matter much anymore. I was in a purely defensive position. Whoever they were they kept too far away for me to attack them and even if I used all my power to close with them, I'd be helpless to do anything after I caught them because of oxygen starvation. It looked like a classic war of attrition, and I was going to lose.

Imp noticed a small cave at the bottom of one of the coral colonies, and I took refuge. It was a long shot that I was not under observation at that moment in time—because I'd be a sitting duck if they saw me hide.

I took the opportunity to catch my breath as much as I could with a gill mask. For normal touristy type things, a gill mask was an excellent device. If you wanted speed, there were small jetpacks that slipped on to your back like a streamlined backpack. But my speed was generated by muscle power, and even if you have the muscles of Hercules, without fuel and oxygen, they were worthless.

Slowly my black-outs subsided, and a state of panic began. I could not see how this was going to end in my favor. I guess I must have been born lucky—as I was debating with myself as to what to do a shadow passed over my miniature cave. I darted out like a moray eel striking and snatched his mask from his face. The idiot panicked and inhaled a lung full of water. I hauled him back into my cave, and even though my heart ached, I let him drown. One down, but how many more to go?

Suddenly a new factor introduced itself into the equation—they were long, grey, and streamlined for about Mach 3. The sight of those tall dorsal fins turned my mouth to cotton. My back was still bleeding, and I hadn't had time to treat it. I had only moments to live with those predators on the prowl.

Somehow Imp induced the communication sonar in my Gill pack to emit a series of high-pitched squeals and then there was quiet. [Help is on the way Larry; just try to stay out the way for a few more minutes.]

I continued to play tag, but the challenge of avoiding all of my pursuers must have made me slip. I could see someone at the edge of my vision and in avoiding him; I gave the other one a clear shot.

I made a contortionist out of myself allowing the spear to pass centimeters from my chest as I turned sideways to its approach. Another short squeal came from my Gill pack, and suddenly there were other streamlined shapes in the ocean. At a full thirty knots, (that's almost 60 Kph for you land-lubbers) three of them passed my hunter, spinning him about in the wake of their passage. This time it was not the hunter-killers of the ocean but man's friend the Dolphin.

Another pod of dolphins herded several sharks towards my opponent. Yes, I know, but I also know what I saw. Those sharks slashed into the spearman; blood gushed into the water mercifully hiding what was occurring at the center of that swarm of flashing streamlined shapes. Evidently whoever it was at the periphery of my augmented vision must have seen the fate of the spear-man, for he was making tracks away from here as fast as possible. Two Dolphins swam slowly up to me; I grasped each one just in front of the dorsal fin. They must have hit a full twenty knots as they took me out of the area.