The third dimension was another matter, however. No one afterward tried to judge how much of the Samian’s subsequent contortions should be attributed to random Habranha wind and how much to Barrar’s own unskilled efforts at control. A being may know perfectly well what feedback is, and even such physical laws as Conservation of Angular Momentum, but reasoning takes time; flying and jumping take reflexes. He was upside down before reaching the peak of his trajectory. His poles waved frantically; one was knocked from his grip as it struck the wing of the first native to attempt a rescue pass.

He was out of the lighted region now, and neither of the Erthumoi could really see what was going on. They might have made some gasp or other anxiety-driven sound, but with no voices could only watch, worry, and feel the discomfort as diving liquid was driven slowly through their windpipes by the reflexes which would normally have made them cry out. Barrar, as far as they could tell, was equally silent; whatever panic reflexes he might have been indulging did not involve his artificial voice. The translators should have been crackling with orders or signals among the natives, Hugh thought briefly, but even the radio spectrum seemed to be silent. The reflexes of the flyers were all aimed at flying, not communicating.

A second Habra, barely missing the one whose wing had knocked Barrar’s pole away, secured a grip on the Samian’s skeletal leg — the skier was still upside down — and for the moment seemed to end the danger since the burden was so light. The limb, however, had not been designed with enough foresight, and proved unable under tension to support the weight of the rest of the structure even in Habranha’s gravity.