Uplift - Infinity's Shore Part 6

But now Streaker's going nowhere. A beached ship needs no pilot, so I guess I'm expendable.

Kaa finished splicing and was retracting the work arms of his harness when a flash of silver-gray shot by at high speed, undulating madly. Sonar strafed him as waves of liquid recoil shoved his body. Clickety dolphin laughter filled the shallows.

Admit it, star seeker!

You did not bear or see me, Sprinting from the gloom! *

In fact, Kaa had known the youth was approaching for some time, but he did not want to discourage Zhaki from practicing the arts of stealth.

"Use Anglic," he commanded tersely.

Small conical teeth gleamed in a beam of slanted sunshine as the young Tursiops swung around to face Kaa.

"But it's much easier to speak Trinary! Sometimes Anglic makes my head hurt."

Few humans, listening to this exchange between two neo-dolphins, would have understood the sounds. Like Trinary, this underwater dialect consisted mostly of clipped groans and ratchetings. But the grammar was close to standard Anglic. And grammar guides the way a person thinks-or so Creideiki used to teach, when that master of Keeneenk arts lived among the Streaker crew, guiding them with his wisdom.

Creideiki has been gone for two years, abandoned with Mr. Orley and others when we fled the battle fleets at Kithrup. Yet every day we miss him-the best our kind produced.

When Creideiki spoke, you could forget for a while that neo-dolphins were crude, unfinished beings, the newest and shakiest sapient race in the Five Galaxies.

Kaa tried answering Zhaki as he imagined the captain would.

"The pain you feel is called concentration. It's not easy, but it enabled our human patrons to reach the stars, all by themselves."

"Yeah. And look what good it did them," Zhaki retorted.

Before Kaa could answer, the youth emitted the need-air signal and shot toward the surface, without even performing a wariness spiral to look out for danger. It violated security, but tight discipline seemed less essential as each Jijoan day pa.s.sed. This sea was too mellow and friendly to encourage diligence.

Kaa let it pa.s.s, following Zhaki to the surface. They exhaled and drew in sweet air, faintly charged with distant hints of rain. Speaking Anglic with their gene-modified blowholes out of the water called for a different dialect, one that hissed and sputtered, but sounded more like human speech.

"All right-t," Kaa said. "Now report."

The other dolphin tossed his head. "The red crabs suspect nothing. They f-fixate on their crayfish pensss. Only rarely does one look up when we c-come near."

"They aren't crabs. They're qheuens. And I gave strict orders. You weren't to go near enough to be seen!"

Hoons were considered more dangerous, so Kaa had kept that part of the spy mission for himself. Still, he counted on Zhaki and Mopol to be discreet while exploring the qheuen settlement at the reef fringe. , guess I was wrong.

"Mopol wanted to try some of the reds' delicaciesss, so we'd pulled a diversion. I rounded up a school of those green-finned fishies-the ones that taste like Sarga.s.so eel-and chased 'em right through the q-qheuen colony! And guess what? It turns out the crabs have pop-up nets they use for jussst that kind of: luck! As soon as the school was inside their boundary, they whipped those things up-p and s.n.a.t.c.hed the whole swarm!"

"You're lucky they didn't snag you, too. What was Mopol doing, all this time?"

"While the reds were busy, Mopol raided the crayfish pens." Zhaki chortled with delight. "I saved you one, by the way. They're delisssh."

Zhaki wore a miniharness fastened to his flank, bearing a single manipulator arm that folded back during swimming. At a neural signal, the mechanical hand went to his seamed pouch and drew out a wriggling creature, proffering it to Kaa.

What should I do? Kaa stared at the squirmy thing. Would accepting it only encourage Zhaki's lapse of discipline? Or would rejection make Kaa look stodgy and unreasonable?

"I'll wait and see if it makes you sick," he told the youth. They weren't supposed to experiment on native fauna with their own bodies. Unlike Earth, most planetary ecosystems were mixtures of species from all across the Five Galaxies, introduced by tenant races whose occupancy might last ten million years. So far, many of the local fishoids turned out to be wholesome and tasty, but the very next prey beast might have its revenge by poisoning you.

"Where is Mopol now?"

"Back doing what we were told," Zhaki said. "Watching how the red crabs interact with hoonsss. So far we've seen 'em pulling two sledge loads toward the port, filled with harvested ssseaweed. They came back with cargoes of wood. You know . . . ch-chopped tree trunks."

Kaa nodded. "So they do trade, as we suspected. Hoons and qheuens, living together on a forbidden world. I wonder what it means?"

"Who knows? If they weren't mysterious, they wouldn't be eateesss. C-can I go back to Mopol now?"

Kaa had few illusions about what was going on between the two young s.p.a.cers. It probably interfered in their work, but if he raised the issue, Zhaki would accuse him of being a prude, or worse, "jealous."

If only I were a real leader, Kaa thought. The lieutenant should never have left me in charge.

"Yes, go back now," he said. "But only to fetch Mopol and return to the shelter. It's getting late."

Zhaki lifted his body high, perched on a thrashing tail.

Yes, oh exalted!

Your command shall be obeyed, As all tides heed moons. *

With that, the young dolphin did a flip and dived back into the sea. Soon his dorsal fin was all Kaa saw, glinting as it sliced through choppy swell.

Kaa pondered the ambiguous insolence of Zhaki's last Trinary burst.

In human terms-by the cause-and-effect logic the patron race taught its dolphin clients-the ocean bulged and shifted in response to the gravitational pull of sun and moon. But there were more ancient ways of thinking, used by cetacean ancestors long before humans meddled in their genes. In those days, there had never been any question that tides were the most powerful of forces. In the old, primal religion, tides controlled the moon, not vice versa.

In other words, Zhaki's Trinary statement was sa.s.sy, verging on insubordination.

Tsh't made a mistake, Kaa mused bitterly, as he swam toward the shelter. We should never have been left here by ourselves.

Along the way, he experienced the chief threat to his mission. Not hoonish spears or qheuen claws, or even alien battlecruisers, but Jijo itself.

One could fall in love with this place.

The ocean's flavor called to him, as did the velvety texture of the water. It beckoned in the way fishlike creatures paid him respect by fleeing, but not too quick to catch, if he cared to.

Most seductive of all, at night throbbing echoes penetrated their outpost walls-distant rhythms, almost too low to hear. Eerie, yet reminiscent of the whale songs of home.

Unlike Oakka, the green-green world-or terrible Kithrup-this planet appeared to have a reverent sea. One where a dolphin might swim at peace.

And possibly forget.

Orderly dolphin whose frailty had grown as Streaker fled ever farther from home.

Brookida's samples had been taken when the Hikahi followed a hoonish sailboat beyond the continental shelf, to a plunging abyssal trench, where the ship had proceeded to dump its cargo overboard! As casks, barrels, and chests fell into the murk, a few were snagged by the submarine's gaping maw, then left here for a.n.a.lysis as the Hikahi returned to base.

Brookida had already found what he called "anomalies," but something else now had the aged scientist excited.

"We got a message while you were out. Tsh't picked up something amazing on her way to Streaker"

'Kaa. nodded. "I was here when she reported, remember? They found an ancient cache, left by illegal settlers when-"

"That's nothing." The old dolphin was more animated than Kaa had seen Brookida in a long time.

"Tsh't called again later to say they rescued a bunch of kids who were about to drown."

Kaa blinked.

"Kids? You don't mean-"

"Not human or fin. But wait till you hear who they are . . . and how they came to be d-down there, under the sea."

Brookida was waiting when Kaa cycled through the tiny airlock, barely large enough for one dolphin at a time to pa.s.s into the shelter-an inflated bubble, half-filled with water and anch.o.r.ed to the ocean floor. Against one wall, a lab had been set up for the metallurgist geologist, an el Sooners Alvin A FEW SCANT DURAS BEFORE IMPACT, PART OF THE wall of debris ahead of us began to move. A craggy slab, consisting of pitted starship hulls, magically slipped aside, offering the phuvnthu craft a long, narrow cavity.

Into it we plummeted, jagged walls looming near the gla.s.s, pa.s.sing in a blur, cutting off the searchlight beam and leaving us in shadows. The motors picked up their frantic backward roar . . . then fell away to silence.

A series of metallic clangs jarred the hull. Moments later the door to our chamber opened. A clawed arm motioned us outside.

Several phuvnthus waited-insectoid-looking creatures with long, metal-cased torsos and huge, gla.s.sy-black eyes.

Our mysterious saviors, benefactors, captors.

My friends tried to help me, but I begged them off.

"Come on, guys. It's hard enough managing these crutches without YOU all crowding around. Go on. I'll be right behind."

At the intersection leading back to my old cell, I moved to turn left but our six-legged guides motioned right instead. "I need my stuff," I told the nearest phuvnthu-thing. But it gestured no with a wave of machinelike claws, barring my path.

d.a.m.n, I thought, recalling the notebook and backpack I had left behind. I figured I'd be coming back.

A twisty, confused journey took us through all sorts of hatches and down long corridors of metal plating. Ur-ronn commented that some of the weld joins looked "hasty." I admired the way she held on to her professionalism when faced with awesome technology.

I can't say exactly when we left the sea dragon and entered the larger base,camp,city,hive, but there came a time when the big phuvnthus seemed more relaxed in their clanking movements. I even caught a s.n.a.t.c.h or two of that queer, ratcheting sound that I once took for speech. But there wasn't time for listening closely. Just moving forward meant battling waves of pain, taking one step at a time.

At last we spilled into a corridor that had a feel of permanence, with pale, off-white walls and soft lighting that seemed to pour from the whole ceiling. The peculiar pa.s.sage curved gently upward in both directions, till it climbed out of sight a quarter of an arrowflight to either side. It seemed we were in a huge circle, though what use such a strange hallway might serve, I could not then imagine.

Even more surprising was the reception committee! At once we faced a pair of creatures who could not look more different from the phuvnthus-except for the quality of having six limbs. They stood upright on their hind pair, dressed in tunics of silvery cloth, spreading four scaly webbed hands in a gesture I hopefully took to mean welcome. They were small, rising just above my upper knees, or the level of Pincer's red chitin sh.e.l.l. A frothy crown of moist, curly fibers topped their bulb-eyed heads. Squeaking rapidly, they motioned for us to follow, while the big phuvnthus retreated with evident eagerness.

We four Wuphonites consulted with a shared glance ... then a rocking, qheuen-style shrug. We turned to troop silently behind our new guides. I could sense Huphu purring on my shoulder, staring at the little beings, and I vowed to drop my crutches and grab the noor, if she tried to jump one of our hosts. I doubted they were as helpless as they looked.

All the doorways lining the hall were closed. Next to each portal, something like a paper strip was pasted to the wall, always at the same height. One of Huck's eyestalks gestured toward the makeshift coverings, then winked at me in Morse semaph.o.r.e.

SECRETS UNDERNEATH!.

I grokked her meaning. So our hosts did not want us to read their door signs. That implied they used one of the alphabets known to the Six. I felt the same curiosity that emanated from Huck. At the same time, though, I readied myself to stop her, if she made a move to tear off one of the coverings. There are times for impulsiveness. This was not one of them.

A door hatch slid open with a soft hiss and our little guides motioned for us to enter.

Curtains divided a large chamber into parallel cubicles. I also glimpsed a dizzying array of shiny machines, but did not note much about them, because of what then appeared, right in front of us.

We all stopped in our tracks, facing a quartet of familiarlooking ent.i.ties-an urs, a hoon, a red qheuen, and a young g'Kek!

Images of ourselves, I realized, though clearly not reflections in a mirror. For one thing, we could see right through the likenesses. And as we stared, each figure made beckoning motions toward a different curtained nook.

After the initial shock, I noticed the images weren't perfect portraits. The urrish version had a well groomed pelt, and my hoonish counterpart stood erect, without a back brace. Was the difference meaningful? The hoonish caricature smiled at me in the old-fashioned way, with a fluttering throat sac, but no added grimace of mouth and lips that Jijoan hoons had added since humans came.

"Yeah right," Huck muttered, staring at the ersatz g'Kek in front of her, whose wheels and spokes gleamed, tight and polished. "I am so sure these are sooners, Alvin."

I winced. So my earlier guess was wrong. There was no point rubbing it in.

"Hr-rm . . . shut up, Huck."

"These are holographic Projections," Ur-ronn lisped in Anglic, the sole Jijoan language suitable for such a diagnosis. The words came from human books, inherited since the Great Printing.

"Whatever you s-say," Pincer added, as each ghost backed away toward a different curtained cell. "What d-d-do we do now?"

Huck muttered. "What choice do we have? Each of us follows our own guy, and see ya on the other side."

With an uneven b.u.mping of her rims, she rolled after the gleaming g'Kek image. A curtain slid shut after her.

Ur-ronn blew a sigh. "Good water, you two."

"Fire and ash," Pincer and I replied politely, watching her saunter behind the urrish cartoon figure.

The fake hoon waved happily for me to enter the cubby on the far right.

"Name, rank, and serial number only," I told Pincer.

His worried-"Huh?"-aspirated from three leg vents in syncopation. When I glanced back, his cupola eye still whirled indecisively, staring in all directions except at the translucent qheuen in front of him.

A hanging divider closed between us.

My silent guide in hoonish form led me to a white obelisk, an upright slab, occupying the center of the small room. He pantomimed stepping right up to it, standing on a small metal plate at its base. When I did so, I found the white surface soft against my face and chest. No sooner were my feet on the plate than the whole slab began to tilt . . . rotating down and forward to become a table, with my own poor self lying p.r.o.ne on top. Huphu scrambled off my shoulders, muttering guttural complaints, then yowled as a tube lifted up from below and snaked toward my face!

I guess I could have struggled, or tried to flee. But to what point? When colored gas spilled from the tube, the odor reminded me of childhood visits to our Wuphon infirmary. The House of Stinks, we kids called it, though our traeki pharmacist was kindly, and always secreted a lump of candy from an upper ring, if we were good. ...

As awareness wavered, I recall hoping there would be a tasty sourball waiting for me this time, as well.

"G'night," I muttered, while Huphu cluttered and wailed. Then things kind of went black for a while.

Asx STROKE THE FRESH-PLOWING WAX, MY RINGS, .streaming hot with news from real time. Here, trace this ululation, a blaring cry of dismay, echoing round frosted peaks, setting stands of mighty greatboo a-quivering.

Just moments earlier, the Rothen ship hovered majestically above its ruined station, scanning the Glade for signs of its lost spore buds, the missing members of its crew.

Angry the throbbing vessel seemed, broody and threatening, ready to avenge.

Yet we/i remained in place, did we not, my rings? Duty rooted this traeki stack in place, delegated by the Council of Sages to parley with these Rothen lords.