I hadn't spilled a drop of coffee.

"Show me pictures."

The screen glowed. I adjusted and got outlines of the bottom.

"Okay."

I threw a Status Blue switch and he matched it. The light went on.

The winch unlocked. I aimed out over the waters, extended an arm, andfired a cast.

"Clean one," he commented.

"Status Red. Call strike." I threw a switch.

"Status Red."

The baitman would be on his way with this, to make the barbs tempting.

It's not exactly a fishhook. The cables bear hollow tubes; the tubesconvey enough dope for an army of hopheads; Ikky takes the bait, dandledbefore him by remote control, and the fisherman rams the barbs home.

My hands moved over the console, making the necessary adjustments. Ichecked the narco-tank reading. Empty. Good, they hadn't been filled yet. Ithumbed the inject button.

"In the gullet," Mike murmured.

I released the cables. I played the beast imagined. I let him run,swinging the winch to simulate his sweep.

I had the air conditioner on and my shirt off and it was stilluncomfortably hot, which is how I knew that morning had gone over into noon.I was dimly aware of the arrivals and departures of the hoppers. Some of thecrew sat in the "shade" of the doors I had left open, watching theoperation. I didn't see Jean arrive or I would have ended the session andgotten below.

She broke my concentration by slamming the door hard enough to shakethe bond.

"Mind telling me who authorized you to bring up the Slider?" she asked.

"No one," I replied. "I'll take it below now."

"Just move aside."

I did, and she took my seat. She was wearing brown slacks and a baggyshirt and she had her hair pulled back in a practical manner. Her cheekswere flushed, but not necessarily from the heat. She attacked the panel with