There had been no explosions, but this was only mildly encouraging. Many plants contained both reducing tissue and nitrates, arranged with varying degrees of intimacy. They burned with varying rates when something did light them; the nitrogen real-life mutated so frequently and grew so rapidly that one could never be sure just what an apparently familiar type would do. Pseudolife was far more reliable, but there was little of that in sight.

“Nothing I can see is burning,” Danna said after looking carefully. “Do you think the fire will really come over this way?”

“We can’t be sure, so we’ll have to watch,” her father answered. “Your mother and Bones and I will all have to go ashore as soon as we’re anchored to clear plants away from the jail or do whatever else is needed to keep it from losing its roof — stone won’t burn, you know. You’ll have to take care of home,here.” The child nodded, and tried to put on a firm expression under her mask.

Bones had pulled the raft in almost to the proper depth, and now gestured that the anchors should be dropped. The adults went aft, and each lowered one of the tent-tissue sacks of boulders into the water.

Danna tried to get the bow anchor overboard, but its hundred kilogram weight was far too much for her.

Bones took a step toward the raft and eased the bag off the float; the child plunged in after it and swam along as it was borne a dozen meters shoreward and set firmly on the muddy bottom. Then Bones plunged back past the raft and positioned each of the other anchors in turn, the human beings paying out enough line to allow for the tide. Danna remained in the water trying to help until this job was finished; then a green-and-brown tentacle curled about her waist and lifted her, laughing, back to the deck beside her parents. They joined in the laughter for a moment, and then reached for the tools stacked beside the air tent.