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Cleiti grinned at her success as Bonnard and Terilla regarded her with expressions akin to awe.

“Who else can you do?” asked Bonnard.

Cleiti shrugged. “Who did you want?”

“Not now, kids. Later. I want tape on this phenomenon.”

The three youngsters immediately took their assigned stations as the sled followed the burdened fliers toward the distant cliffs. Varian had time to dwell on the subtler implications of the fliers’ fishing. The creatures were quite obviously the most intelligent species she had encountered on Ireta. Nor had she come across another cooperative avian race: at least, at this level. Bonnard’s xenob was not accurate in saying that intelligent avian life was rare: dominant intelligent avian life was, however. So often winged life was in such desperate competition with ground-based life for the same foods that all their energies had to be directed to the procurement of food, or the preservation of the home nest, and the succor of the young. When a life form specialized, dropping the forearm with manipulative skill for the wing of retreat, they lost a tremendous advantage in the battle of survival.

The golden fliers of Ireta seemed to have managed to retain the vestigial hand without expense to the wing, and thus used their flight advantage beautifully.

Occasionally smaller fish fell from the nets, back into the sea, to cause more frothing as the submarine denizens struggled to secure the prizes. Twice, immense heads rolled avidly up from the depths as the fliers passed with their tempting loads.

Now the four observers saw additional fliers materializing from the cloudy skies, swooping down to take positions along the edges of the nets, supporting the load and relieving the first fishers. Thus assisted, the formation picked up speed.

“How fast are they going now, Varian?” asked Bonnard, for the xenob had been carefully matching the forward motion, staying behind but above the fliers.

“With this tailwind, I make it twenty kph, but I think they’ll gain air speed with all this reinforcement.”

“They’re so beautiful,” said Terilla softly. “Even hard at work they’re graceful, and see how they gleam.”

“They look as if they were traveling in their own personal sunlight,” said Cleiti, “but there’s no sun.”

“Yeah, what’s with this crazy planet?” said Bonnard. “It stinks and there’s never any sun. I did want to see a sun when I got a chance.”

“Well, here’s your moment,” said Terilla, crowing with delight as the unpredictable happened and the clouds parted to a glimpse of the green sky and the white-hot yellow sun.

Varian laughed with the others and almost wished that the face masks didn’t adjust instantly for the change in light. The only way she knew that there was sun at the moment was the shadows on the sea.

“We’re being followed!” Bonnard’s amused tone held a note of awe.

Huge bodies now broke the surface and slammed down on the shadow which the air sled cast on the waters behind it.

“I’m glad we’re ahead of them,” Cleiti said in a small voice.

“There’s the biggest crazy I’ve ever seen!” Bonnard sounded so startled that Varian turned around.

“What was it, Bonnard?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I’ve never seen anything like it in all my born days, Varian.”

“Was the taper on it?”

“Not on that,” said Terilla, apologetically. “Forward, on the fliers.”

“Here, let me have it, Ter, I know where to point.” Bonnard assumed control and Terilla moved aside.

“It’s like a flat piece of fabric, Varian,” Bonnard was saying as he sighted across the stern of the sled. “The edges flutter and then . . . it sort of turns over on itself! Here comes another!”

The girls gave small squeals of revulsion and delighted fear. Varian slewed round in the pilot seat and caught a glimpse of something gray-blue which did, as Bonnard said, flutter like a fabric caught in a strong breeze. She caught sight of two points halfway up one side (like claws?), then the creature flipped over, end for end, and entered the water, with more of a swish than a splash, as Cleiti put it.

“How big would you say it was, Bonnard?