Startide Rising (10 page)

Toshio stumbled through the ruined undergrowth whistling a Trinary call when he felt able. Mostly he tried very hard to stay on his feet. He hadn’t walked much since leaving Earth. Bruises and nausea didn’t help much, either.

He found K’Hith lying on a soft bed of grass-like growth. His harness was intact, but the dolphin planetologist had already bled to death from three deep gashes in his belly. Toshio made a mental note of the spot and moved on.

Closer to the shore he found Satima. The little female was bleeding and hysterical, but alive. Toshio bound her wounds with fleshfoam and repair tape. Then he took the manipulator arms of her harness and used a large rock to pound them into the loam. It was the best he could do to bind her to the ground before the fifth wave hit.

It was more a flooding than a wave. Toshio clung to a tree as it flowed past, tugging at him and rising almost to his neck.

As soon as the wave began to recede, he let go and floundered over to Satima. He groped until he found the catch on her harness, then released her to float in the growing backtow. He pushed hard to join the flood and keep from being left behind.

He was struggling to shove her around a clump of shrubs, against the growing pull of the backwash, when a swift motion in a tree overhead caught his eye. The movement didn’t fit into the overall pattern of swaying subsidence. He looked up, and met the gaze of a pair of small, black eyes.

There was little time for more than a startled double take before the tide pulled him and Satima straight through the obstruction and into a small, recently made marsh. Toshio was suddenly too busy to look anywhere but straight ahead.

He had to pull Satima down the last few yards of slippery sea-plant, taking care not to reopen her wounds. In the last few minutes it had seemed she was more lucid. Her Dolphin squeakings were starting to take on form and sound like Trinary words.

A whistle brought Toshio’s head up. Keepiru was only forty meters offshore, driving the sled toward him. The fin had on a breather, but he could still signal.

“Satima!” Toshio shouted to the wounded dolphin. “Go to the sled! Go to Keepiru!”

“Lash her to an airdome!” he called to Keepiru. “And keep your eye on that sonar screen! Get back out there when you see a wave coming!”

Keepiru tossed his head. As soon as Satima was a hundred feet out he used the sled to herd her toward deeper water.

Five accounted for. That left Hist-t and Hikahi.

Toshio climbed back up the sea-plant and stumbled into the undergrowth once again. The territory of his mind seemed as torn up and desolated as the island he trod upon. He had seen too many corpses for one day—too many dead friends.

He realized now that he had been unfair to the fins all along.

It had been unjust to blame them for teasing him. They couldn’t help the way they were built. All of man’s genetic meddling notwithstanding, dolphins had been dealing with humanity on a level of good-natured derision since the first person paddled a log canoe out to sea. That pathetic image had been enough to set a pattern that uplift could only alter, not eliminate.

And why eliminate it? Toshio now saw that those humans he had known on Calafia, who worked best with dolphins, had had a special type of personality, generally featuring a mixture of a thick skin, firmness, and a willing sense of humor. No one worked for long with fins who hadn’t earned their respect.

He hurried over to a gray form that lay in the underbrush. But no. It was Ssattatta again. She had been moved by the last wave. Toshio stumbled on.

Dolphins were quite well aware of what Mankind had done for them. Uplift was a painful process. But none of them would go back to the Whale Dream if they could help it.

The fins knew, as well, that the loose codes that ruled behavior among the Galactic races, rules established in the Library for aeons, would have let humanity demand a hundred thousand years of servitude from its clients. Men had collectively shuddered at the thought. Homo sapiens himself was barely that age. If Mankind did have a patron out there—one strong enough to lay claim to the title—that species wasn’t going to pick up Tursiops amicus as an added bonus.

There wasn’t a fin alive who wasn’t aware of Earth’s attitude. There were dolphins on the Terragens Council, as well as chimpanzees.

Toshio knew at last how he had hurt Keepiru with his words during their struggle at sea. Most of all he regretted the remark about Calafia. Keepiru would willingly die a thousand times to save the humans of Toshio’s homeworld.

Toshio’s tongue would fall off before he said such things again. Ever.

He staggered into a clearing. There, in a shallow pool, lay a Tursiops dolphin.

“Hikahi!”

The fin was scratched and battered. Tiny bloody tracks lay along her sides. But she was awake. And as Toshio started forward she called out.

“Stay there, Sharp-Eyes! Don’t-t move! We have company here!”

Toshio stopped in his tracks. Hikahi’s command was specific. Yet the need to go to her was urgent. The dolphin’s scratches did not look pleasant. If there were slivers of metal lodged under the skin they had to be removed soon, before blood poisoning set in. And it wasn’t going to be easy getting Hikahi out to sea.

“Hikahi, there’ll be another wave soon. It may reach this high. We’ve got to be ready for it!”

“Stay, Toshio. The wave will not reach here. Besides, look around. See how much more important this isss!”

For the first time, Toshio really noticed the clearing. The pool was set near one side, with scratch marks all around, indicating that it had been recently dug. Then he saw that the manipulator arms from Hikahi’s harness were missing.

Then who …? Toshio’s perception shifted. He saw twisted debris at the far end of the clearing, scattered through the undergrowth, and recognized the fragments of a ruined, shattered village.

In the chronic shimmering of a Kithrupan forest he saw the fragments of rude, torn, woven nets, scattered pieces of wrecked thatching, and bits of sharp metal crudely bound to wooden staves.

In the tree branches he saw fleet little movements. Then, one by one, small, splayed, web-fingered hands appeared—followed by slowly peeking, shining black eyes that peered back at him from under low, greenish brows.

“Abos!” he whispered. “I saw one earlier, then forgot completely! They look pre-sentient!”

“Yesss,” Hikahi sighed. “And this makes secrecy even more vital than ever. Quickly Sharp-Eyes! Tell me what has happened!”

Toshio related only what he had done since the first wave struck, leaving out only the details of his battle with Keepiru. It was hard to concentrate, with the eyes in the trees first staring down at him, then skittishly darting under cover whenever he glanced their way. He barely finished his story as the last wave arrived.

The breakers could be seen driving up the sloping shore with a loud roar and a white foaming. But clearly Hikahi was right. The water wouldn’t rise this high.

“Toshio!” Hikahi whistled. “You’ve done very well. You may have saved these little people, as well as ourselves. Brookida will succeed. He will bring help.

“So saving me is not that important. You must do as I say! Have Keepiru dive at once! He must stay out of sight and remain quiet as possible as he searches for bodies and debris. You must bury Ssattatta and K’Hith and gather the fragments of their harnesses. When help comes we must be able to move quickly!”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right? Your wounds…”

“I’ll be fine! My friends keep me wet-t. The trees overhang to keep me hidden. Watch the skies, Sharp-Eyes! Don’t be seen! When you’re finished I hope to have coaxed our friends here into trusting you.”

She sounded tired. Toshio was torn. Finally, he sighed and turned back to the forest. He forced himself to run through the broken foliage, following the receding waters to the shore.

Keepiru was just emerging as he arrived. The fin had removed his breather and wore an airdome instead. He reported finding the body of Phip-pit, the dolphin supposed lost earlier to the killer weed. The sucker-bruised body must have been torn loose during the tsunami.

“Any sign of Hist-t?” Toshio called.

Keepiru answered negative. Toshio passed on Hikahi’s command and watched as the sled sank below again.

For a moment he stood there, then, looking out over the west.

Kithrup’s reddish sun was setting. A few stars poked rays through the scattered clouds overhead. In the east the clouds were beginning to look ominous. There would be rain during the night. Toshio decided against taking off his drysuit, though he compromised by pulling the rubberized headpiece off. The breeze was chilling, but a huge relief.

He glanced to the south. If the battle in space continued, Toshio saw no sign of it. Kithrup’s rotation had taken them past the shining globe of plasma and debris that must be drifting out there now.

Toshio lacked the will to shake his fist, but he grimaced toward the southern sky, hoping the Galactics had wiped each other out.

It wasn’t likely. There would be victors. And someday soon they would be down here looking for dolphins and men.

Toshio pulled his shoulders back, in spite of his fatigue, and walked with deliberateness toward the forest, and the protecting, overhanging trees.

They found the young man and the dolphin shortly after landing. The two were huddled together under a crude shelter which dripped warm rain in long rivulets. Lightning flashes drowned out the muffled yellow light from the lamps the rescuers brought. In the first flash, Thomas Orley thought he saw a half-dozen small squat figures clustered around the Earthling and the Calafian. But by the time he and his partner had shoved through the undergrowth for a better view, the animals—or whatever they were—were gone.

His first fear that they had been carrion-eaters disappeared when he saw Toshio move. Still, he kept his right hand on the butt of his needler and held up the lantern to let Hannes Suessi pass underneath. He looked carefully around the clearing, taking in the smells and the sounds of the living surface of the metal-mound, memorizing details.

“Are they all right?” he asked after a few seconds.

“Shh, It’s okay Toshio. It’s just me, Hannes,” he heard the engineer mutter. The fellow sounded downright maternal. “Yes, Mr. Orley.” Suessi called back, “They’re both awake, but not in much shape for talking.”

Thomas Orley took in the clearing once more, then moved over to set the lamp down beside Suessi. “This lightning would cover anything,” he said. “I’m going to call up the mechanicals so we can get these two out of here as quickly as possible.” He touched a button on the rim of his faceplate and whistled quickly in perfect Trinary. The message lasted six seconds. It was said that Thomas Orley could actually speak Primal Dolphin, though no human had ever witnessed it.

“They’ll be here in a few minutes. They have to cover their tracks.” He squatted down next to Toshio, who was sitting up now that Suessi had moved over to Hikahi.

“Hello, Mr. Orley,” the boy said. “I’m sorry we dragged you away from your work.”

“That’s all right, son. I’ve been wanting to have a look around up here, anyway. This gave the captain a good excuse to send me. After we get you started back toward the ship, Hannes and Tsh’t and I will be going on to look over that ship that crashed.

“Now, do you think you can lead us to Ssattatta and K’Hith? We want to comb this island clean before the storm passes.”

Toshio nodded. “Yes, sir. I should be able to stumble around that long. I don’t suppose anyone’s found Hist-t?”

“No. We’re worried about that, but nowhere near as worried as we were when Brookida got back. Keepiru’s told us most of the story. That fin thinks rather highly of you, you know. You did quite a job here.”

Toshio turned away, as if ashamed to receive the praise.

Orley looked at him curiously. He had never given much thought to the middie before. During the first part of the voyage, the youth had seemed bright, but a bit irresponsible. Later, after they found the derelict fleet, he had begun to turn morose, as their chances of ever going home diminished. Now there was this new note. It was too soon to tell what the long-term effects would be, but this had obviously been a rite of passage for Toshio.

Humming sounds drifted up from the beach. Soon two spider-like mechanicals strode into view, a hammocked and harnessed dolphin piloting each of them.

Toshio sighed a little raggedly as Orley helped him up. Then the older man stooped to pick up an object from the ground. He hefted it in his left hand.

“A scraper, isn’t it? Made from bits of metal fish spine glued to a wood handle…”

“I guess so.”

“Do they have much of a language yet?”

“No, sir; well, the rudiments. They seem to be stabilized. Strict hunter-gatherers. Hikahi guesses they’ve been stuck for half a million years.”

Orley nodded. This native species looked ripe, at first glance. A pre-sentient race at just the right stage for uplift. It was a miracle some Galactic patron line hadn’t snapped them up already, for client status and an aeon of servitude.

Now the men and fen of Streaker had still another obligation, and secrecy was more important than ever.

He put the artifact in his pocket, then laid his hand on Toshio’s shoulder.

“Well, you can tell us all about it back on the ship, son. In the meantime, you have some pondering to do.”

“Sir?” Toshio looked up in confusion.

“Well, it isn’t everybody who gets to name a future space-faring race. You know, the fen will be expecting you to make up a song about it.”

Toshio looked at the older man, uncertain if he was joking. But Thomas Orley had on his usual enigmatic expression.

Orley glanced up at the rain clouds. As the mechanicals moved in to claim Hikahi, he stepped back and smiled at the curtain which, temporarily, hung across the theater of the sky.

“
For the sky and the sea
,

And the sea and the sky
,

Lay like a load on my weary eye
,