Humanx - Cachalot Part 23

"Yes." Cora spoke without hesitation now. "We thank you."

"Do Not Thank Us." The huge mammal continued to tread water, unbearably graceful for something so ma.s.sive. "We Did It Not To Please Thee, But To Please Our Cousins, For They Were Most Insistent.

"Now Say What Thou Wilt. Already Is The Talk Wearying To Us, And We Would Be On Our Way."

"What do you-but we haven't even started yet."

The head commenced a slow slide surfaceward.

Around them sounded a vast, explosive heaving as the herd expelled bad air preparatory to sounding.

"That Ends It," the whale said.

"Wait, wait!" Cora was waving frantically at the re- ceding eye. "I didn't mean to insult you. I-"

"You can't be subtle or dilatory with His kind."

Sam spoke curtly, angry not at her but at Them. "They

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CACHALOT.

CACHALOT.

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understand neither." He raised the volume on his translator.

"Four floating towns. Four of the off-bottom islands on which our people lived have vanished in the past three months! All the people on them also disap- peared. Nothing has been heard of them; no trace of their pa.s.sing has been found. Have you any idea what might have happened?"

The head paused, the eye now just above water.

"We Do Not."

"But how can you say that?" Rachael left off pro- gramming her instrument to interrupt undiplomati- cally. This did not upset Cora. At least her daughter was becoming involved. "You haven't even asked the other members of your pod!"

The great eye swiveled to stare dispa.s.sionately up at her. "I Am Called," and the translator fought with whistles and squeaks to announce finally, "Lump- jaw. Lumpjaw Speaks For The Pod. If Thou Hast Any- thing More To Say To Lumpjaw, Then He Bids Thou Sayest It. If Thou Hast Anything More To Say To The Pod, Then Say It To Lumpjaw. If Not..."

"No, we do. At least I do." Cora took a cautious breath. "Why are you so hostile?" Her curiosity had the better of her now. "We haven't done anything to you. Why can't you wait?"

From the water rose the great head. It eased toward her, barely touched the railing. Even so, the Caribe slid slightly sideways and listed several degrees to star- board.

"Nothing To Us? How Many Whales Did Thy Ancestors Slay? How Near To Completion Came Man's Policy Of Genocide?"

"That was a thousand years ago," she said indig- nantly. "I will not be held accountable for the trans- gressions of my distant ancestors. Nor should you identify so intensely with your equally ancient ones."

The whale pulled away. The railing groaned, unbent

in the middle, "The Little Female Hath Spirit. We Do Care. We Do Remember. The Diaspora Came Al- most Too Late. But What Mankind Hath Done He May Do Again.'

"Mankind has changed." She moved tentatively to the bent rail, looked down. "Just as radically as have the Cetacea."

"Words!" Lumpjaw rumbled, though with seemingly less conviction. "And Worse, They Are Words of Man- kind, Who Is Not To Be Believed."

"What about Wenkoseemansa and Latehoht?"

Cora argued. "And their cousins the porpoises? They trust."

"The Little Ones Who-Leap-All-The-Time Are But Children, Locked Into A Degraded, Permanent In- fancy Of Their Own Choosing. As For The Mottled Brave Who Are Also Our Cousins; They Have For Reasons Of Their Own Chosen Friendliness And As- sociation With Thy Kind. We Do Not."

"Unhappy to you," a new voice said, "Ponderous Swimmer." Latehoht had appeared nearby.

"Perhaps So." Lumpjaw sounded philosophical, not angry with the orca. "We Cannot Judge Eventuality, Only The Present. Perhaps Thy Course May Be The True One, Little Mottled Cousin. But We Of The Catodonia Have Not Yet Forgotten Nor Forgiven. We Only Hope For Thy Sake That Thy Trust Is Never Betrayed."

"It won't be," Sam insisted.

"May It Be So." The head turned slightly, bringing huge ivory teeth within Cora's reach. She did not flinch. "There Are Men, And There Are Men. They May Differ As Much As The Colors Of The Fish Who School In The Millions, And Their Feelings And Be- liefs And Desires May Be Equally Diverse. That Be The Difference Between Us. We Strive For A Singu- larity Of Thought, A Unity. Not Diversity."

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"Mankind has its own form of unity," Cora pointed

out.

"Aye, But Tis Not A Unity of Soul." The whale

waxed poetic: "Thy Unity Springs From A Drive For Survival. We Of The Catodonia Have No Such Need And Find Our Strength In Individual Independence

Joined To A Uriity Of Thought.

"In That Unity There Is As Yet," he added almost

as an afterthought, "No Room For Trusting Mankind.

I Have Seen Nothing Of Man As Yet To Convince Me Otherwise And I Have Made The Great Migra- tion Yea, Twenty Times."

"Five years of adolescence," Sam murmured, "give

or take a little, and four years per migration. That would make him eight-five years old, or more."

"How can you be so sure of man if you remain aloof

from him?" Cora wanted to know,

"I Would Debate Philosophy With Thee Longer,

Little Female," Lumpjaw said, "But There Are Those In The Pod Who Grow Anxious. We Have Distances To Travel And Thoughts To Think. Thou Hast Inter- rupted Both."

"Are you sure," Merced interrupted, speaking for