12
Ham really wished he surfed. He’d saved enough surfers over the years, and failed to save a few others, that there wasn’t a chance they’d ever get him out on a board. But knowing the waves better would be really useful at the moment.
“Twelve-thirty!” Sly called out and held out a fist aimed close ahead and just to the right.
The trough immediately ahead of their wave dipped down to reveal a massive boulder.
Ham swung left, hoping he’d drag the RB-S sideways in time. They’d have no vision ahead and had to trust the flight crew. Because of the long lead on the winch line, he had to judge the lag time in guiding them.
“And—” Sly didn’t even have time to point.
“Got it.” Ham slalomed them back the other way. The deeper channel was darker blue, and he began following it.
“Sea mount in
