The thought hits me with shocking suddenness, and my gut knots. Argent’s still muttering into his mike, but it doesn’t sound like he’s getting the response he wants. The small rotorcraft’s hurtling in closer, and it’s lined up with us, not with the Otter. I throw my weight to the right and drive the leading edge of the hull deep, honking the Watersport around in the tightest possible turn. Only sheer luck keeps us from catching a wave and going over. Equally sheer luck keeps Argent from ripping my arms off as he grabs my shoulders again.