Startide Rising (13 page)

“Y yes … we’ll need a monofilament cable to the ship, for a computer link, and…”

“Talk this over with Keepiru, before he rests. He must help you come up with something militarily acceptable.”

“Keepiru? But I thought…” Dennie looked at the younger dolphin, and quickly bit back the tactlessness she had been about to utter. Silently wearing his breather, the pilot seemed unhappier than ever.

“I have my reasons, femsir. As a pilot, he is of little use while we are immobile. I can spare him from the work here, to be your field liaison … if I agree to your plan.”

The captain’s attention made Keepiru hunch slightly and look away. Toshio put a hand on Keepiru’s sleek back. That, too, was a change. The two had never struck Dennie as fast friends before.

Creideiki’s teeth shone in the bright lights of the bay.

“Is there more comment-t?”

Everyone was silent.

Creideiki thrashed his tail, then whistled the phrase of command termination. He arched and sped away with rapid, powerful strokes. His aides followed in his wake.

Keepiru watched until his captain passed out of sight. Then he addressed Dennie and Sah’ot.

* At your service, you will find me—

In my quarters, floating, breathing—

* After seeing Toshio resting… *

Toshio smiled when Dennie gave him a brief hug. Then he turned to swim away, arm over Keepiru’s back, keeping to the fin’s slow pace.

Just then one of the intrahull lift tubes opened and a blue and yellow shape bulleted out of the tube. A joyful racket filled the chamber as the ship’s other midshipman speared past Keepiru and the boy, then zoomed around them in ever-tightening circles, chattering excitedly.

“Do you really think Toshio’s going to get any sleep?” Emerson asked.

“Not if Akki makes him tell the entire story before he has supper with the captain.” Dennie envied Akki and Toshio their fellowship, as constant and intense as any star. She watched the boy laughing as he fended off his friend until they disappeared into the tube.

“Well, sister,” Emerson D’Anite grinned at Dennie. “It appears you have a science command. My congratulations.”

“Nothing’s decided yet,” she answered. “Besides, Keepiru will be in charge.”

“Keepiru will have military command. That part confuses me a bit. I don’t know where Creideiki’s aiming, assigning Keepiru that job after the way I hear he behaved out there. My guess is it’s his way of getting the poor dollie out of his hai … hide.”

Dennie had to agree, though she thought it a bit cruel.

She suddenly felt a smooth, flat touch on the inner part of her left thigh. She yelped and whirled around with her hand at her throat; then sighed when she saw that it was the neo-dolphin anthropologist, Sah’ot, who had slipped in his left pectoral fin to goose her. The Stenos gave her an uneven grin. His rough teeth shone brightly.

Dennie’s heart pounded. “Shark-breath! Doggerel-rhymer! Go make love to an unwashed specimen bottle!” Her voice cracked.

Sah’ot reared back, his eyes momentarily white-rimmed in surprise. Apparently he hadn’t expected Dennie to be so high-strung.

“Aw, Dennie,” Sah’ot sighed. “I was jussst trying to thank you for interceding with Creideiki. Obviously your charms are more persuasive to him than any arguments I might raise. Sorry if I sstartled you.”

Dennie sniffed at Sah’ot’s double-edged apology. Still, her reaction might have been overdrawn. Her pulse slowly settled. “Oh … never mind. Just don’t you sneak up on me like that!”

Without even turning around, she could feel Emerson D’Anite grinning behind his hand. Males, she thought. Do they ever grow up?

“Um, Dennie?” Sah’ot’s voice crooned like a string trio. “There is one small matter we have to discuss, if we are going to be going on this expedition to the island together. Will you be churlish and let Creideiki choose the science commander on the basis of prejudice? Or will you give me a chance? Maybe we can wrestle for it-t-t?”

D’Anite started coughing. He turned the other way and cleared his throat.

Dennie blushed. “We’ll let the captain decide what’s best. Besides … I’m not sure both of us should go. Charlie told me his analysis of the planetary crust samples may be of interest to you … there are traces of paleotechnology in recent layers. You ought to go see him right away.”

Sah’ot’s eyelids narrowed. “That isss interesting. I’d thought this planet was fallow far longer than would allow paleotech-ch remnants.”

But he dashed Dennie’s hopes. “Alasss. Digging for long-toasted garbage of past Kithrupan civilizations cannot be half as important as making contact with pre-sentients and establishing a proper patron claim for you humans. We fins might have new client cousins before even neo-dogs are finished! Heaven help the poor creatures if the Tandu or Soro or similar ilk collect them!

“Besides,” he soothed, “this is a chance for us to get to know each other better … and exchange professional information, of course.”

Emerson D’Anite had to cough again.

“I’ve left the repairs for too long already, kids,” he said. His burr was back in force. “I think I’ll be gettin’ on back to my engines, and let you two discuss your plans.”

D’Anite’s grin was barely suppressed. Dennie swore eventual revenge. “Emerson!” she hissed.

“Yes, lass?” He looked back at her innocently.

She glared, “Oh … I’ll bet you haven’t a drop of Celtic blood in your body!”

The dark engineer smiled at her. “Why, bairn, didn’ ya know? All Scots are engineers, and all engineers are Scots.” He waved and swam off before Dennie could think of a reply. Trapped, she cursed, by a cliché!

When D’Anite was out of earshot Sah’ot sidled close to Dennie. “Shall we start planning our expedition?” His blowmouth was near her ear.

Dennie started. Suddenly she noticed that everyone had gone. Dennie’s heart beat faster, and her facemask seemed not to be giving her enough air.

“Not here we won’t!” She spun away and began swimming. “Let’s go to the wardroom. There are plotting boards … and airdomes! A man can breathe there!”

Sah’ot kept pace with her, uncomfortably close.

“Aw, Dennie…” he said, but he didn’t press. Instead, he began to sing a low, atonal, hybrid melody in a complex and obscure dialect of Trinary.

Against her will, Dennie found herself drawn into the song. It was strange, and eerily beautiful, and it took her several minutes to realize that it was also dirty as hell.

M
oki, Sreekah-pol, and Hakukka-jo spent their latest off-duty period as they had spent every one for weeks, complaining.

“He was down in my section again,t-today,” Sreekah-pol griped, “sticking his jaw into everybody’s work-k. Thinks he’s ssso-o-o discreet, but he fills the sound-scape with his Keneenk-k echoes!”

Moki nodded. There wasn’t any doubt who “he” was.

* Crying—Crooning

Talk, talk rhythms

* My group wags tails

To his Logic Logic! *

Hakukka-jo winced. Moki seldom spoke Anglic anymore, and his Trinary had a little too much Primal in it to be decent.

But Sreekah-pol obviously thought Moki’s point valid. “All the Tursiopsss worship Creideiki. They imitate him and try to act like Keneenk-k adeptsss! Even half of our Stenos seem just as swallowed by his spell!”

“Well, if he can get-t us out of here alive, I will forgive even his nosy inspections,” Hakkuka-jo suggested.

Moki tossed his head.

* Alive! Alive!

To deep, rich waters!

* Follow, Follow

A rough-toothed leader! *

“Will you make quiet-t-t?” Hakukka-jo swung about quickly to listen to the echoes in the rest area. A few crewfen were gathered by the food machines. They gave no sign of having heard. “Heed your scatter! You’re already in trouble without clicking mutiny talk! I hear Doctor Metz has gone to Takkata-Jim to ask about you!”

Moki smirked defiantly. Sreekah-pol agreed with Moki’s unspoken comment. “Metz won’t do nothing,” Sreekah said. “It’sss common knowledge half the Stenos aboard were chosen by him. We’re his babiesss,” Sreekah-pol crooned. “With Orley and Tsh’t gone, and Hikahi in sick bay, the only’s we gotta watch out for is the chief smartass himself.”

Hakkuka-jo looked about wildly. “You too? Look-k, will you be quiet? There comes K’tha-Jon!”

The other two turned the way he indicated. They saw a huge neo-fin swim out of a hull lift and head their way. Dolphins half his size got out of the giant’s way quickly.

“So what-t-t? He is of us!” Sreekah-pol said uncertainly.

“He’s also a bosun!” Hakkuka jo answered hotly.

“He hates Tursiopsss smartasses, too!” Moki cut in in Anglic.

“Maybe, but if so he keeps it to himself! He knows how humans feel about racism!”

Moki looked away. The dark mottled dolphin was like a lot of fins in holding the patron race in a sort of superstitious dread. He countered weakly in Trinary.

* Ask the black men—

The brown and yellow men

* Ask the whales—

About human racism! *

“That was a long time ago!” Hakkuka-jo snapped, somewhat shocked. “And humans had no patrons to guide them!”

“Jussst ssso…” Sreekah-pol said, but his agreement sounded unsure.

They all shut up as K’tha-Jon approached. Hakkuka-jo felt a recurring chill on contemplating the bosun.

K’tha-Jon was a giant, surpassing three meters in length with a girth that two men couldn’t span with their arms. His bottle nose was blunt, and, unlike the other so-called Stenos aboard, his coloring was not mottled but deeply countershaded. Rumor had it K’tha-Jon was another of Dr. Metz’s “special” cases.

The giant swam up nearby and exhaled a loud spurt of bubbles. His open jaws displayed a fearful array of rough teeth. The others almost unconsciously adapted a submissive posture, eyes averted, foodmouths closed.

“I hear there’s been more fighting…” K’tha-Jon rumbled in deep Underwater Anglic. “Fortunately, I was able to bribe senior bosun S’thata with a rare sensie tape, and he agreed not to report it to the captain. I’ll expect the cost of the tape to be covered by somebody, with interest-t…”

Moki seemed about to speak, but K’tha-Jon cut him off.

“No excuses! Your temper is a burden I can do without. S’thata would have been right to challenge you for biting him from behind like that-t!”

* Dare him! Dare him!

Tursiops coward!

* Dare him …

Moki barely blatted out the beginning before being slammed amidships by a blow from K’tha-Jon’s mighty flukes.

He slewed several meters through the water before coming to rest, whistling in pain. K’tha-Jon came close and murmured softly.

“YOU are Tursiops! That is the name of our entire, Library-registered species! Tursiopsss amicusss … ‘friendly bottlenose’! Ask Dr. Metz if you don’t believe me! Embarrass the rest of uss aboard who have Stenos grafts in our genes—Vice-Captain Takkata-Jim and myself, for instance—by acting like an animal, and I will show you how to be a friendly bottlenose! I’ll use your gutssss for hawsers!”

Mold trembled and turned away, jaw closed tightly.

K’tha-Jon swept the cowering fin with a contemptuous spray of sonar, then turned to regard the others. Hakkuka-jo and Sreekah-pol looked idly at the bright, decorative garibaldi and angel fish which were allowed to swim unmolested throughout the central bay. Hakkuka-jo whistled softly.

“Break is almost over,” the bosun snapped. “Back to work-k. And save your hatred for your private time!” K’tha-Jon turned about and sped away, the turbulence from his flukes almost toppling the others.

Hakukka-jo watched him go, then whistled a long, low sigh.

That should do it, K’tha-Jon thought as he hurried off to duties in the cargo section. Moki, especially, would be quiet for a while. He had better be.

If there was anything he and Takkata-Jim did not need, it was a spate of racist innuendo and suspicion. Nothing would unite the humans in alienation like that sort of thing.

And catch the attention of Creideiki, too. Takkata-Jim insists we give the captain one more chance to come up with a plan to get us home alive.

All right, then, I can wait.

But what if he doesn’t? What if he keeps asking for sacrifice from a crew that never volunteered to be heroes?

In that case, someone would have to be able to present the crew with an alternative to follow. Takkata-Jim was still reluctant, but that might not last.

If the time did come, they would need human support, and Moki’s kind of interracial bullying could wreck the chances of that. K’tha-Jon intended to ride close herd on that Stenos, to keep him nice and docile.

Even if it was nice, from time to time, to chew the tail of some bloody, shore-hugging, sanctimonious, smartass Tursiops!

—Rejoice—crooned the fourth Brother of the Ebony Shadows. Rejoice that the fifth moon of the small dusty planet has been conquered!—

The Brothers of the Night had fought bitterly for this fulcrum of power, from which they would soon project irresistible might and sweep the skies of heretics and blasphemers. This moon would guarantee that the prize would be theirs, and theirs alone!

None of the other moons in the Kthsemenee system had the one attribute this one possessed: a core of almost one percent unobtainium. Already thirty of the Brothers’ ships had landed, to begin construction of the Weapon.

The Library, as always, had been the key. Many cycles ago the fourth Brother of the Ebony Shadows had come across an obscure reference to a device once used in a war between two races now long extinct. It had taken him half of his lifespan to hunt down the details, for the Library was a labyrinth. But now would come his payment!

—Rejoice!—The cry resounded. It was a paean of triumph meant to be heard, and indeed a few of the other combatants began to notice that something curious was going on over in a corner of Kthsemenee’s system. While the fiercest battles raged around the strategic gas-giant world, and Kithrup itself, some enemies had begun to send scouts this way to see what the Brothers of the Night were up to.