Maelstrom (7 page)

The canal was more torturous than previous ones, choked not only with tangles of roots, but also littered with chunks of earth and stone that had fallen from above. The twins followed Sky as long as they could in seal form, but then the water ran out for creatures of their size and they had to flip themselves dry and put on their dry suits while they and Ke-ola, hunched over under the low tunnel ceiling, waded through the shallow water, following Sky and the Honu.

At last they rounded a bend and saw torchlight and a shelf of rock extending from the streamlet to the side of a cavernous root canal.

In the flickering of the torchlight, the twins saw a small band of people—not hundreds.

And from above them they heard rumbling. Ronan and Murel could smell the fear and hopelessness emanating from the people as their eyes fearfully searched the sides and roof of the cave while rocks and dirt rained down on them.

CHAPTER 9

T
HE RUMBLING INCREASED,
then stopped.

Ke-ola waded toward the people and spoke quickly to them. The ones nearest him looked startled. Being intent on the quake, they hadn’t seen or heard the small rescue party until then.

Many of the adults were older people, though there were a few younger women and a great many children. One old woman, nearly as big as Ke-ola, stepped up to their friend and made loud demands the twins could not understand.

The Honu did, though.
She wishes to know if the Manos still live, and Ke-ola tells her they are well,
the turtle explained.

Ronan’s human throat emitted a sealish bark of frustration.
Everybody is just fine, but we aren’t going to be much longer if we don’t find a way out soon.

True,
the Honu replied as once more the tunnel trembled, the water sloshed, and the dirt and rocks showered them.
So it is a good thing the diggers are above us now.

“Are these people the only survivors or do we need to look for more?” Murel asked Ke-ola, even though she didn’t think she wanted to hear the answer if it was not the one she wished for.

“This is all,” Ke-ola answered. “Two compounds were completely obliterated when the first meteors fell. The Manos warned the people, but those far from the water didn’t know of the warning until it was too late.”

“So we can go now?” she asked. She felt very selfish. These people had lost everything, even relatives, and she was only uncomfortable and tired. But it was enough for her. She wanted to go home.

When the diggers poked through the root-woven ceiling and soil and the first victim was carried to the surface in a sling attached to a rope, she thought it was all over.

But the old woman who had first addressed Ke-ola wasn’t letting them off that easily and demanded something of him in their own language.

He tried to urge her to go up in the sling. She shook her head, and Murel thought it was because she was afraid the rope wouldn’t hold her. “It’s very strong,” Murel told the elder soothingly in Standard.

The woman answered her in the same language. “Strong for you, missy, strong for me, but how will it carry the Manos?”

“The Manos?” Ronan asked. “Why would it carry the Manos?”

Ke-ola tapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Of course, how could I be so stupid? The Manos will have to come too. These people cannot leave their aumakuas behind any more than we would leave the Honus.”

“But they’re going to have to,” Murel said. “I don’t think the tanks will hold all the Honus and the Manos too. There’s not enough water.”

“Couldn’t Madame make more tanks?” Ke-ola asked.

“And put them where?” Murel said. “Besides, it’s not that easy. Adrienne said they already had to reinforce the lounge deck to hold the tank that’s there now. I don’t know how we’re going to satisfy everybody, Ke-ola. Can’t the people and the Honus come with us now and maybe Marmie can come back for the sharks later?”

“And maybe not, eh?” the old woman interrupted. “We will live with the Manos or die here with them.”

Ronan didn’t want to ride with the sharks. Swimming with them once was enough. And if it came to that, he didn’t want sharks prowling the Petaybean seas.

“Maybe we can send for another ship to take these folks and their sharks to another safer planet somewhere,” he suggested.

Ke-ola shook his head. “My people will not come without them. We are all related. The Manos are difficult relatives but all must come or none will. You do not leave your grandmother and grandfather behind.”

“That grandfather would have eaten the Honu, Sky, and you too if Murel hadn’t grabbed his tail,” Ronan said.

While they were arguing, the old woman, who seemed to think they would do exactly as she thought they ought to, saw to it that several children were lifted to the surface. They were immediately put into flitters to return to the ship. They were followed by three young women who appeared to be their mothers.

Once they were gone, the old woman called to the remaining adults. Bearing torches and holding them high, they entered the water and she led them deliberately around the rescue party, away from the escape hole, and toward the tangled roots.

“Where are you going?” Murel asked.

“To fetch the Manos.”

“But—” she started to protest.

The Honu told her,
They do what they must. Now we will do what we must. The diggers must uncover the Mano lake. Meanwhile, we will make a place for them.

The twins looked at Ke-ola, who shrugged, settled the Honu under one arm, and used his other hand to hang on to the rope as it was raised toward the surface.

Sky draped himself over Murel’s shoulders as she ascended, followed by Ronan.

Halfway to the surface the rope was enveloped by a tube that blew fresh air from the flitter down at them. Within its protective envelope, they reached the flitter’s opening, and Ke-ola helped them in. This was not the simple four-passenger flitter they had seen before, but like a large passenger carrier.

Johnny Green’s voice greeted them over the com. “Is that everybody, then?”

“Everybody but the people who stayed behind to wait with the sharks,” Murel told him.

“Stay behind with the
what
? Sorry, darlin’, but the reception seems to have a glitch. I didn’t quite catch that last word.” He chuckled. “It sounded as if you said ‘sharks.’”

“That I did,” she replied. “Sorry, Johnny, but what with all the mind-reading and psychic communicating with the Honu, Sky, the sharks, and Ronan and me, we quite forgot you wouldn’t be hearing any of it. It seems that what the Honus are to Ke-ola’s clan, sharks are to this group of survivors. They say that if we want them to go, we must make room for the sharks as well.”

“Ah,” Johnny said. “I decided against marrying a lass one time because she said the same about her mother. Her mother was somewhat less attractive and amiable than most sharks, but she had the advantage of not needing to live in a tank.”

“The Honu says the other Honus will let the sharks have the tank,” Ronan told him.

“Did they now? That’s very interesting. I suppose they’ll be expecting their minders to hold them all the way back to Petaybee?”

Ronan shrugged. “They didn’t say. I suppose we can sort it out with them when we’ve returned to the ship.”

“Best do it before deciding to take any sharks aboard. I don’t recall Petaybee inviting sharks, do you?”

They did not, of course.

The large flitter groaned under the collective weight of the passengers all the way back to the ship, but at length it arrived and they climbed back through the air lock and onto the main deck, feeling as if several tons of rocks had been removed from their heads, shoulders, hands, and feet. The children began bouncing around as if they had invisible wings, laughing and zooming into each other.

Most of Ke-ola’s people of the Honu aumakua were still back on the surface, waiting to help the Mano people evacuate their finny friends. So the twins weren’t surprised to see the lounge empty except for a few people and some odd-looking occasional tables they hadn’t previously noticed.

What did surprise them was that the Honu tank was empty. Where before the giant turtles had glided through the water in an oddly graceful ballet, now there were no creatures in the water at all. There was also somewhat less water in the tank than there had been, and the deck was flooded around the pool at the end of the water slide.

Ronan noticed an old man leaning against a table, his clothing and the ends of his long hair damp, and that others among the remaining people were similarly soggy. “Where are the Honus?” he asked him. “Why aren’t they in the tank?”

But it was Ke-ola who answered, after conferring with the old man in their language. He told the twins, “The Honus slid out of the tank on the water slide and the people helped them out of the pool because the Honus requested it.”

“Why did they want out?” Ronan asked. “Were they worried about the sharks? Where are they?”

“Right there, of course,” Ke-ola replied, nodding at the tables, some of which now had heads, tails, and legs.

“Silly, didn’t you recognize them?” Murel asked.

“No, the shells are different, aren’t they?” Ronan answered. “The Honu shells are like our Honu’s, kind of pointy at the back and streamlined. These are round and have that octagonal cell design on the back.”

“Shhh,” Ke-ola said.

“Why?” Ronan asked. It seemed apparent to him, not anything to be quiet about.

“Because it’s their secret,” Ke-ola said. “The Great Secret Transformation of the Honus.”

“The one Dr. Mabo was so mad to find out about?” Ronan asked, referring to their former science teacher, a woman who had an obsession with shape shifters and had tormented the Honu because she believed the sea turtle could change shapes.

“Yes,” Ke-ola said. “She found out that they made the transformation, she just didn’t know what it was.”

“Neither do I,” Murel said, puzzled. “What is it? That their shells change shape and color a bit?”

“Oh, no,” Ke-ola said. “It’s far more dramatic than that.”

“So?” both twins demanded, still puzzled.

“Well, look at them more closely. It’s obvious!”

The twins looked at each other and shrugged, then turned back to Ke-ola.

“Look at their legs. See? No flippers. Big sturdy legs. They’ve changed, you see. They are no longer sea turtles who live in the water. They have altered their structure so that they are now land
tortoises.
”

“Oh,” Murel said.

“It’s a very big change,” Ke-ola declared, as if daring them to say it didn’t amount to much, though in fact it was hard to tell there was any change at all.

“Oh, yeah,” Ronan said. “Anyone can see that. But it makes me wonder—could the sharks turn into something else too? Like dolphins or salmon, something like that?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard,” Ke-ola said in a wry tone. “Though there is a rumor that perhaps the Mano come to us in the form of recruiters for the Intergal labor force.”

A
T FIRST
J
OHNNY
said he didn’t think they could load the sharks without killing them, since unlike the Honus, the sharks needed the water to breathe. But Ke-ola’s Honu pointed out that a shark would just fit into his old, smaller transport tank.

“What do you think, Madame?” Johnny asked Marmie. “It’s your call.”

“I think if we try and we fail, then at least we will have made every effort to accommodate these people, which I hope they will remember. If we try and succeed, then we’ll have to decide what to do next. I’m a bit worried about Petaybee’s reaction.”

Murel said, “I shouldn’t worry too much about that if I were you, Marmie. It’s not like there aren’t other predatory creatures already on Petaybee. And you know, if it doesn’t care for the sharks as they are right now, Petaybee has a way of adjusting things—adapting them, so they are better suited to it.”

Johnny, who knew of sharks by reputation and from personal encounters on other worlds, nodded and said, “Yes, I’ve no doubt that eventually it will all work out. It’s just that painful adjustment period that might cause a spot of bother.”

The Manos’s people insisted on personally handling the sharks during the transfer from lake to tank to larger tank aboard the ship. Nobody contested their exclusive claim to the dubious honor.

Ronan and Murel were perfectly happy to stay on the
Piaf
without the need for space suits or dry suits or having to swim through root-choked tunnels. After enjoying a snack of tea and cakes, with tinned fish for Sky, they returned to their cabin to catch up on their sleep.

When they awoke, the dry area of the lounge was crowded with both turtle and shark people as well as large slumbering Honu/tortoises. The tank was filled with murderous-looking Manos, who appeared less than happy to be there and seemed to be continually evaluating the nutritional benefits of the various crew members who passed before them.

The sharks’ presence made the twins want to avoid the lounge, which was the most pleasant and social of the meeting areas on the ship. Somehow, the sharks glowering hungrily at everyone through the glass put a damper on their own appetites. There were only four—the male they had met, his mate, and two young—but in no way did they blend in with the rest of the company, despite their claim to kinship with some of it.

The new passengers—sharks and Honus/land tortoises aside—were not the cheerful, nature-centered, flower-wreath-making, singing, and dancing folk Ke-ola had told them about. The children, thin and runny-nosed, cried constantly, and the heavy appearance of people like the old shark matriarch, the twins discovered, was more a matter of bone structure than nutrition.

Indeed, after looking askance at the replicated food and nutrient bars that were routine shipboard fare, the newcomers began eating so much that the replicators overheated. As a result, by the third day of the trip home the electronic bits wore out and the replicators stopped working altogether. Fortunately, the ship also carried stores of the dried, powdered, or otherwise preserved staples that had provided occasional treats for the twins. Most of these provisions were bound for some of Marmie’s client satellites. The tinned fish went quickly, and the twins later learned this was partially because Sky had raided the stores and hoarded a good stock of his favorite food for his own needs.

Large bags of rice, supplemented by cans of mystery meat, served to keep everyone full. The Honu/land tortoises were shown to the ’ponics garden, and they crawled sedately down the corridors, then loaded one at a time into the lift down to the garden level. There, under Midori’s watchful eye, they could graze on the plant life and also on the bugs that inevitably seemed to sprout in the garden along with the seeds.

That took care of everyone but the sharks.

“Ritual sacrifice is out of the question,” Johnny Green announced before anyone suggested it. “Unfortunately, we have no designated sacrificial crew members aboard at this time.”