Humanx - Cachalot Part 13

to be mechanical.

"We'll do our best." Rachael was becoming irrit- able, and it showed in her tone. Cora knew that her daughter was unable to remain interested in anything besides her neurophon for anything longer than half

an hour at a time.

Hwoshien gazed at her a moment, then turned sharply and gestured them to follow. "Come over

here."

Cora and the others followed him towards the docks.

He walks like a thranx, she reflected. Stiffly and from

the joints.

The doors had stopped descending, leaving a three- meter gap between floor and door bottom. They mounted a slight rampway. Then they were standing on the edge of a brown wall of burnished duralloy against which the waves beat ceaselessly. The supra- foils had long since departed, thei/ faint whines swal- lowed by distance.

Hwoshien put his left foot up on the low f.l.a.n.g.e that edged the dock, his left hand on his hip, and pointed

with his right.

"Look out there, visitors." His finger traced the horizon. "Stretch your eyes. Travel any direction you choose and you will likely circ.u.mnavigate this world without ever seeing land. Cachalot's land lies beneath its waters, beneath a fluid, unstable atmosphere we have only just begun to understand. Man is still more at home in interstellar s.p.a.ce than in the medium of his birth.

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"This is home to the creatures that have evolved here, home also to the cetacean settlers, but it can never be that to those of us here on Mou'anui or to those out on the floating towns. We live here on suf- ferance. For all that we staggered out of the seas of Earth, they are still only places that we visit."

He stepped off the f.l.a.n.g.e, stared hard at each of them in turn.

"Thirty-six years I've lived on Cachalot. Still I feel like an alien. I am comfortable in my living arrange- ments, secure in my chosen profession. Were I not, I would never have been appointed Resident Com- missioner. But at 'home'?" He shook his head, a small, controlled movement. "That is something I can never be. Though there are those who claim to feel other- wise. They say I do not think in the 'Cachalot' manner.

Sam here is one."

The officer looked uncomfortable.

"That's all right, Sam. In no way am I being critical of you. You know what I mean."

Mataroreva nodded. Again Cora had that sugary sensation in her brain that something very important was being said, and she could not understand.

"Even Sam cannot be at home here. He can only try to be."

"Respectfully, sir, I do feel at home here."

"I know." Something shifted in Hwoshien's head and he was suddenly downright cordial. "I know how tired you must be. Would you join me for dinner to- night, please? We're very informal about such things here. We can talk further then. You'll have an op- portunity to sample the unique cuisine of our kitchen ... we sometimes even use human chefs to prepare our food. Again, I apologize for rushing you so abruptly from your long journey to this meeting, but I wanted everything spelled out quickly . . . and to meet you myself."

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"We'd be happy to join you," Cora said. "Any- thing-as long as we can shower first." :

"Of course. Surely the humidity is no worse than

you expected?"

"I think we're all prepared for everything we might

encounter," she said significantly.

"Good. At nineteen hundred, then?" He added a last comment that was so atypical, Cora had to re- a.s.sure herself that he had actually spoken. "It will be a distinct pleasure to work with two such beautiful

ladies."

The cafeteria-style dining area was separate from their quarters. Sam had to escort the three newcomers from their rooms. He and the two women waited in the small lobby for Merced, who arrived late, puffing slightly, tucking his net shirt into his shorts.

Cora wore a drape-weave that swirled around her body from right shoulder to left calf in alternating rows of fluorescent pink and yellow, dotted with deadcolor black flowers. Maybe everyone else on this world dressed informally when they ate together, but she still retained a number of civilized virtues. Be- sides, this would probably be the last time she would be able to dress decently before they got out into the

field.

Rachael had opted for a seemingly simpler summer

drape, in pale green. The simplicity was deceptive.

Several fish were inlaid in silver thread along the hem.

They breathed bubbles that appeared to flow up the dress. At certain wavelengths, depending on the il- lumination, the sizable bubbles were transparent. The motile peekaboo effect that resulted turned a number

of heads as they entered the mess.

One corner was deserted save for Hwoshien. He wore the same stiff, utilitarian dark suit he had worn earlier in the day. Cora looked at his chest for the expected crimson insignia of a Commissioner. There

CACHALOT.

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wasn't one. His lack of pretentiousness is the most humanizing thing about him, she mused.

There was some small talk and some absolutely magnificent local food. Mataroreva had managed to slip quickly into the chair next to Cora. Merced and Rachael sat on the other side. Occasionally Merced would lean over and hesitantly whisper something to her and she would giggle. Then he would turn rapidly away, as if embarra.s.sed by his own temerity in talk- ing to her, and shovel his food.

The interchanges troubled Cora, but she was too busy talking with Hwoshien to pay much attention.

Not that she could have done anything to prevent them.

"What would human agents have to gain by de- stroying the towns?" she asked. "Surely you must have some suspects?"

"Were that only the case." Hwoshien caressed his tall drinking gla.s.s. "Cachalot's oceans hold many riches. You saw a tiny sample of them today. Some small, independent operators would be happy to see their better-organized compet.i.tion obliterated.

"For example, there are the people of the ships.

They live and work on old-fashioned ocean-going boats. Not suprafoils, but real ships in the ancient floating sense. They own their vessels, unlike the peo- ple of the towns, who only lease their homes and equip- ment from the larger companies. They also refine some of their own produce right on board.

"The quant.i.ty is small, but it still cuts into the pro- fits of the large concerns by bypa.s.sing the expensive orbital factories. So there has always been dislike between the people of the ships and the citizens who inhabit the floating towns."

Cora speared a forkful of a delicate white meat, chewed as she spoke. "Wouldn't they be easily dis- covered? Wouldn't a sudden rise in some ship's pro- duction be noticed?"

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