The Farpool (24 page)

Chase and Angie followed Kloosee and Pakma
inside. Longsee lok was already present, with others the humans
didn’t recognize.

The
Metah
, Iltereedah luk’t, was a vigorous older
female of nearly two hundred
mah
, arthritic and stiff in places but much
loved and respected by all. Chase was awed by the arrangement of
lighted filaments. He whispered through his echopod, not realizing
that all could hear everything.

“Angie…this place looks like Citrus Grove
Shopping Center, a week before Christmas.”

“Shhh, show some respect, you jerk!” she
hissed back. “It’s the Queen.”

Iltereedah regarded them with cold eyes.
Wrinkles and lines radiated out from her beak and face, the beak
ritually scarred with cryptic symbols and notched rings.

“These are the
eekoti
who came through the Farpool?” the Metah
asked.

“Most Affectionate
Metah
,” Longsee spoke up, “these
eekoti
were brought through by
Kloosee and Pakma. They come to help us. Help us with the
Umans.”

The Metah made a sudden flip of her tail
flukes and started circling, methodically pulsing Longsee and his
assistants from the lab, then Chase and Angie, one by one, seeking
deceit, seeking other purposes, the telltale bubbles of doubt. She
found none.

“Disgustingly ugly,” she pronounced,
after returning to her position above the circle of glowing coral.
“You have fashioned
ot’lum
for them?”

“Yes, Affectionate Metah,” Longsee
answered. “The lifesuit works. And they have undergone the
em’took
…it is necessary that they
look like this. They have to survive in our waters and the
Notwater. “

Now, the Metah addressed Chase and Angie
directly. Chase’s echopod screeched, then settled down to a
scratchy translation that Chase could barely make out.

“You have agreed to help us with the
Umans…you do this of your own free will? I pulse nerves,
anxiety…things trouble you, both of you. Tell me this—“

Chase looked around, started to reply, but
Angie beat him to it.

“Your Honor…ma’am…we’re just normal people.
We came with Kloosee and Pakma because…because, we felt sorry for
them. They weren’t treated right on our world. They told us what
was happening here. Chase and I thought…well, maybe we could help.”
She reached for Chase’s hand, or his flipper, or whatever…and
squeezed it. “We didn’t expect things like this…with us all
changed, looking like—well, we didn’t expect it. We want to help.
But I’m not sure what exactly we can do—“

Here, Kloosee spoke up. “Affectionate
Metah, we asked the
eekoti
to
speak with the Umans at Kinlok. Convince them to shut down the
wavemaker. We thought, since they are of the same race—“

The Metah interrupted, “This is an unproven
theory…there are many theories—“

“Yes, yes, of course, Metah, but it was
thought by our scientists and engineers that the Umans would listen
to their own kind—“

Iltereedah considered that. “The expedition
is ready…supplies, the kip’ts, the special equipment?”

Longsee said they were ready.

Iltereedah decided. “We have no choice.
Omt’or is dying. Seome is dying. The noise and the vibrations are
constant, the wavemaker is unrelenting. And the Umans speak of
greater threats…of something called a
sun
, a great light in the Notwater and a weapon
that kills this sun…they say Seome is doomed anyway…we must do
something. Thus I approve the expedition. Go with my
blessing,
eekoti.
And the
prayers of all Omt’or.
Litor’kel ge
to all of you.”

Longsee led them out of the Metah’s chamber.
Outside the great pyramid, they headed back to the project labs at
the Kelktoo.

“She’s worried,” Kloosee observed.
“Understandably.”

“The Ponkti want to attack the Umans,”
Longsee said. “That’s all they understand. But they’ll just get
killed in greater numbers…we’ve got nothing to stop Uman
suppressors.”

“What’s
Ponkti?”
Angie asked.

Kloosee said, “The Ponkti are members of
another kel, the other side of the world. It’s called
Ponk’et…they’re all hotheads. They talk tough, make threats, fight
all the time. No, we have to work with the Umans, not fight
them.”

“How many kels are there?” Chase asked. He
tried keeping up with the Seomish as they darted and cruised among
the minarets and buildings dotting the center of Omsh’pont. It was
hard; the Seomish were great swimmers and why shouldn’t they
be?

“There are five great nations…waterclans,”
said Pakma. “You’re in Omt’or now. There is also Ponk’et, Sk’ort,
Eep’kos and Ork’et. They occupy the five great seas of Seome. Of
course, Omt’or is the greatest of all.”

“Of course,” said Angie. “Pakma, I have a
request.”

“What is it?”

“These echopods we have…you said once they
can translate, work like an encyclopedia and they can record. Is
that true?”

“Of course. I can show you how to do
that.”

“Good,” Angie said. “I want to start a
journal…kind of an ‘Angie’s Unbelievable Adventure’ diary. Can you
help me do that?”

“I’ll help you while the
kip’ts
are being loaded.”

“Great.”

A day later, Longsee and a large crowd
of onlookers watched as Kloosee and Pakma loaded up their
kip’ts
with supplies. There would be
two
kip’ts
. The trip to the
Farpool would take many days.

The privy councilor to the Metah was also
there, one Encolenia mek’t. She represented the Metah and her
council.

“Our prayers are with you, Kloosee ank
and Pakma tek. And with the
eekoti,
especially. You have a long journey ahead of you and what
you’re doing is critical to Omt’or, indeed to all the kels.
Litorkel ge,
both of you. The Metah
hopes and prays that you will be successful in your mission. Make
the Umans understand what they must do…otherwise, we have no
future.”

Pompous old
windbag
, thought Kloosee as he boarded the
kip’t
. Pakma was already in the
other one.

Longsee had one last word of advice.
“Don’t be heroes. You’re not immortal, Kloosee. Omt’or needs you
both to come back, alive and in good health. If you encounter any
Ponkti, stay out of their way. They don’t speak for us…the Metah is
trying to organize a meeting with other Metahs…make a common front
against the Umans. Let the
eekoti
speak with them…I’m sure the Umans will listen to their own
kind.”

I’m not so sure about
that,
Kloosee thought. Still, he always lived for the
chance to explore Notwater; it had been in his blood since
childhood, since the Circling, since he’d seen seamothers breaching
the surface like drunken revelers.
Nobody’s taking this away from me.

Kloosee closed and sealed the
kip’t
cockpit. He waved at the
assembled crowd, then fired up the sled’s jets and rose on the
current, climbing swiftly through the domes and floats of Omt’or,
past the Torsh’pont until they felt the first faint tugs of the
Omt’chor Current.

They would have to tack and beat against that
current to reach the P’onkel Sea and the Farpool.

Angie’s Journal: Echopod 1

“Well, so here I am, dictating this journal.
I hope I’ve got the thing working right…Pakma showed me how it
works. This is really crazy, you know. Here I am, dressed up,
changed somehow, so I look like a circus freak from Sea World and
we’re traveling halfway across this ocean world called Seome to
speak with some more humans who are somehow destroying this very
world. I can’t even come close to understanding it. And, really,
I’m not sure I want to go on this little adventure…I’m kind of
homesick. I miss Mom. I miss Dr. Wright and the Clinic and working
with all the patients. Most of all, I miss my bestest friend
Gwen…so this is for you, girl.

“At least, Chase is here. He seems to be
really into all this, but then I always said he’s part fish anyway.
That’s what the Seomish are…really intelligent fish. Oh, Gwen, you
wouldn’t believe what we’ve seen…whole underwater cities, ships,
submarines, glowing coral…they really are intelligent and clever
people…fish…amphibians…whatever they are….

“We seem to be getting mixed up in their
politics as well…they have tribes, or clans. They’re called kels.
And they don’t get along that well…they have conflict on how to
deal with these other humans. By the way, these other humans…the
Seomish call them Tailless People of the Notwater—isn’t that a
hoot?—are up on some island way up north. We’re heading there now.
These guys are operating some kind of machine that makes an awful
racket in the ocean. A weapon, I think. They’re fighting a war with
another race…another planet, I guess. The Seomish don’t seem to
understand all that, or they don’t care. They just want this noise
and vibration to stop…it’s really hurting them. The Seomish want us
to talk with the humans and make them shutdown the machine.

“I don’t know how well that will go but I do
know one thing: after we make this trip, I want to go home. Back
through the Farpool…boy, is that a ride! And I want to get changed
back too…I don’t like looking like some kind of giant frog. I miss
checking out my cute little butt in the mirror and my long
legs…these scales are the worst. They hurt when you touch them.

“I asked Pakma and Kloosee about all
this…going back, getting unmodified and so forth. They haven’t
answered me straight so far…I think they’re more worried about this
little mission.

“But first chance we have, I’m going
back…even if I have to go by myself. That worries me a little. I
don’t think Chase wants to leave just yet. This was supposed to be
a short trip, just to help out Kloosee and Pakma. Deep down inside,
I think Chase would like to stay here, become one of them.

“Not me. I guess we’ll deal with that when we
have to. But I’m worried about it, Gwen. I really am.

“That’s it for now. I’ll try to keep this
journal going…get some other sounds. Pakma said there’s a way to
record visual and scent impressions too. I have to record this.
You’d never believe it, Gwen, if I didn’t.

“Until next time…Angie, out.”

End Recording

Chapter 9

Seome

Omsh’pont, kel: Omt’or, and en route to
Kinlok

Time: 766.1, Epoch of Tekpotu

“It’s called the Pulkel,” Kloosee told
Chase. Kloosee steered the
kip’t
in a wide southerly circle out of Omsh’pont, cruising first
directly south over the dim chasm of Shookengkloo Trench, then more
easterly toward the jagged range of cliffs and canyons known as the
Serpentines. Soon enough, the first ramparts of the chain began to
show themselves, initially as streaks of blips and bleeps on
the
kip’t
sounders, then more
ominously as a massive gray-brown presence, indefinable in shape
except for the open seas beyond that it blocked. “A place of great
turbulence, but going that way allows us to catch the Pom’tel
Current and make a faster trip. If we can get through—“

Chase was fascinated with the
kip’t’s
controls. “Maybe I could
help out with the driving…if this trip takes several days. Have you
got any maps I could study?”

Kloosee laughed. “You
eekoti
use your eyes more than we
do. Our maps are made of sound. Patterns of echoes, beats and
reflections…that’s how we navigate. Someday, I must teach
you.”

Chase seemed to snort and wheeze a little.
“Sorry… it’s these gills. The water seems different in here…guess
I’m still getting used to this.”

Kloosee adjusted something on the
control panel. “We keep the water in our
kip’ts tchor’kelte
…calm but cold. I’ve made a
change that should help.”

“Thanks… I’ll be glad when we can go back to
our old selves. I know Angie will be too.”

Kloosee said nothing to that.

He slowed and brought the
kip’t
around to follow a parallel
course to the northwest, easing the sled more and more to his left
so that it drifted over the shallower slopes of the ridge. Behind
them, Pakma was in control of the second sled. She altered course
to follow. When they had found a narrow stream of smoothly flowing
water,
vishm’tel
as it was
known, they let the current take the nose of both
kip’ts
and then each settled back.
Kloosee rested his hands lightly on the bow plane and rudder
handles.

The Serpentines cut a ragged, sinuous course
across the bottomlands of Seome. They started in the far northwest,
in the Omt’orkel, the home sea for Kloosee and Pakma. For three
thousand beats, the chain twisted from west to east across the
world, bisecting the Omt’orkel with its steep slopes, vertical
cliffs, deep canyons and trenches and crumbling, boulder-strewn
intermountain plateaus.

Just north of Lik’te, the planet’s largest
island, a kink appeared in the ridge. Like a broken bone, the
Serpentines veered sharply to the southeast, zigzagging around
Lik’te and splitting the sea diagonally in two as it crossed the
equator. It was here, in the sluggish equatorial seas that the
Serpentines merged with another great chain of peaks, the Ork’nt,
slicing in from the east like an enormous scimitar of rock and
lava. The intersection zone was the scene of some of the most
violent, unpredictable and deadly storms and currents anywhere on
Seome, above or below the sea. It was called, simply, Pulkel—the
Death Waters.