Uplift - Startide Rising Part 10

15 ::: Stenos Moki, 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 smarta.s.s 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 smarta.s.ses, 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 superst.i.tious 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, surpa.s.sing 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! Embarra.s.s 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 b.l.o.o.d.y, sh.o.r.e-hugging, sanctimonious, smarta.s.s Tursiops!

16 ::: Galactics 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 Kths.e.m.e.nee system had the one attribute this one possessed: a core of almost one percent un.o.btainium. 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 Kths.e.m.e.nee'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.

Let them come and look! Can it matter? -- A ship of the Soro had been watching them for some time. Could it have divined their purpose?

Never! The citation was too obscure! Our new weapon has sat unnoticed too long in the dusty archives. They will first understand when this moon begins to vibrate on the fifteenth probability band sending out waves of uncertainty that will tear their battle fleets apart! Then their shipboard Libraries will undoubtedly remember, but too late! -- The Brother of the Ebony Shadows watched from s.p.a.ce as the resonator neared completion, watched as the grounded ships fed their combined energies to the resonator. From a thousand units out he could feel the wave build ....

What are they doing? What are the Progenitor-scorned Soro doing? -- instruments showed that the Brothers of the Night were not alone on the fifteenth band! From the Soro ship came a small tone, a variation of the beat emanating from the small moon. An echo.

The fifteenth band began to beat. It was impossible, but it resonated along with the Soro rhythm!

The Brothers on the ground tried to damp the runaway signal, but it was already too late! The small moon shook, and finally crumbled. Great shards of rock tumbled apart, crushing the little ships in their way.

How could they have known? How could they ... ? -- Then the Brother of the Ebony Shadows understood. Long ago, when he had begun his search for a new weapon, there had been a helpful Librarian ... a Pilan. The Pilan had always been there with the useful suggestion, with the helpful reference. The Brother had thought nothing of it. Librarians were supposed to be helpful, and neutral, whatever their backgrounds.

But the Pil are clients to the Soro-The Brother realized -- Krat knew all along- He gave the order sending his remaining forces into hiding.-This is only a setback. We shall yet be the ones to capture the Earthlings! -- Behind the fleeing remnants, the small moon continued to dissolve.

17 ::: Tom Orley Hannes Suessi lay p.r.o.ne on the heavy work sled next to Thomas Orley. The gaunt, balding artificer gestured at the wreck before them.

"It's a Thennanin ship," the chief engineer said. "It's pretty badly crumpled, but there's no doubt. See? There are no objectivity anchors, only stasis projectors on the main f.l.a.n.g.es. The Thennanin are terrified of reality alteration. This ship was never designed to use a probability drive. Definitely, it's Thennanin, or a Thennanin client or ally."

The dolphins circled slowly nearby, taking turns at the airdomes underneath the sled, emitting excited sonar clicks as they eyed the gigantic crushed arrowhead below them.

"I think you're right, Hannes," Tom said. "It's a behemoth."

That the ship was still in one piece was amazing. In its Mach five meeting with the ocean, it had caromed off at least two small sub-surface islands-leaving substantial dents in them-and plowed a deep gouge in the ocean floor before finally catching up against a furrow of pelagic mud, just before it would have smashed into a sheer scarp. The cliff face looked crumbly and precarious. Another substantial jolt would surely cause a collapse, burying the wreck completely.

Orley knew that it was the quality of the Thennanin stasis shields that had made such a performance possible. Even in dying, a Thennanin ship was reputed to be not worth putting out of its misery. In battle they were slow, unmaneuverable-and as hard to disable permanently as a c.o.c.kroach.

It was difficult to a.s.sess the damage yet. Down here the illumination from the surface was blue-tinged and dim. The fen wouldn't turn on the arc lights they had strung up until Tsh't said it was safe. Fortunately, the wreck was in water shallow enough to visit, yet deep enough to shield them from spy eyes overhead.

A pink-bellied bottlenose dolphin swam up next to the sled. She worked her foodmouth in a thoughtful circular motion.

"It's really amazing, isn't it, Tom?" she asked. "It should be in a jillion piecesss."

This deep, there was an odd clarity to the fin's voice. Bursts of air from her blowmouth and sonar clicks joined in a complex manner to make speech an intricate juggling of bodily functions. To a landlubber human, a neo-dolphin speaking underwater sounded more like an avant-garde orchestra tuning up, than someone speaking a derivative of the English language.

"Do you think we can make any use of it-t?" The dolphin officer asked.

Orley looked again at the ship. There was a good chance that in the confusion of battle none of those contending over Kithrup had bothered to note where this sparrow had fallen. He already had a few tentative ideas, one or two of which might just be bold and unexpected-and idiotic-enough to work.

"Let's give it a look," he nodded. "I suggest we split into three teams. Team one heads for any center of emissions, particularly probability, psi, or neutrino radiation, and disables the source. They should also watch out for survivors, though that seems a bit unlikely."

Suessi snorted as he looked at the pounded wreck. Orley went on.

"Team two concentrates on harvesting. Hannes should lead that one, along with Ti-tcha. They'll look for monopoles and refined metals that Streaker might be able to use. With luck, they might find some replacements for those coils we need.

"With your permission, Tsh't, I'll take team three. I want to look over the structural integrity of that ship, and survey the topography of the surrounding area."

Tsh't did a jaw clap of agreement. "Your logic is good, Tom. That is what we'll do. I'll leave Lucky Kaa with the other sled, on alert. The ressst shall join their teams at once."

Orley grabbed Tsh't's dorsal fin as she was about to whistle the command. "Oh, we'd better go with breathers all around, hadn't we? Trinary may not be efficient, but I'd rather put off complex conversations in Anglic than have to risk everybody shuttling back and forth for air, and maybe someone getting hurt."

Tsh't grimaced, but gave the command. The party was composed of disciplined fen-the pick of Streaker's crew-so the gathering at the sled was occasion merely for low-pitched grousing and indignant bubbles as each dolphin was fitted with his wraparound hose of air.

Tom had heard of prototype breathers that would give a fin a streamlined air supply without hindering his speechmouth. If ever he found the time, he might try to rig some up himself. Speaking Trinary posed no real difficulty for him, but he knew from experience that the fen would have problems conveying technical information in anything but Anglic.

Old Hannes was already grumbling. He helped pa.s.s out the breathers with ill-disguised reluctance. The chief artificer was conversant in Trinary, of course, but he found the threelevel logic difficult. To cap things off he was a lousy poet. He obviously didn't look forward to trying to discuss technical matters in whistle rhyme.

They had their work cut out for them. Several of the picked petty officers and crew that had accompanied them on the rescue effort had gone back to the ship, escorting Toshio and Hikahi and the other victims of the stranding waves. Only a short score of fen remained in the party. Should anything dangerous come up they would have to take care of it themselves. No help from Streaker could arrive in time to do any good.

It would have been nice to have Gillian here, Tom mused. Not that inspecting alien cruisers was her area of expertise, but she knew fins, and could handle herself if things got sticky.

But she had work of her own aboard Streaker, trying to solve the puzzle of a billion-year-old mummy that should never have existed in the first place. And in an emergency she was the only other person aboard Streaker, barring, possibly Creideiki himself, who knew about the Niss machine, or its potential value if given access to the right data.

Tom smiled as he caught himself rationalizing again.

Okay, so there are good and logical reasons why the two of us can't be together right now. Take it for what it's worth. Do a good job here, and maybe you can be back to her in a few days.

There had never been any question, from the moment they had met as adolescents, that he and she would make a pair. He sometimes wondered if their planners had known in advance, in choosing gametes from selected married couples, that two of the growing zygotes would later fit together so perfectly -- -down to the simple telempathy they sometimes shared.

Probably it was a happy accident. Human genetic planning was very limited, by law and custom. Accident or no, Tom was grateful. In his missions for the Terragens Council he had learned that the universe was dangerous and filled with disillusionment. Too few sophonts-even those equipped for it-ever got enough love.

As soon as the breathers had been distributed Tom used the sled's speaker to amplify his voice. "Now remember, everybody; though all Galactic technologies are based on the Library, that collection of wisdom is so huge that almost any type of machine might be inside that hull. Treat everything like it's b.o.o.by-trapped until you've identified it and rendered it harmless.

"The first goal of Team One, after silencing the wreck, is to find the main battle computers. There may be a record of the initial stages of the fight above. That information might be invaluable to the captain.

"And would you all keep an eye out for the Library glyph? If you find that symbol anywhere, please note its location and pa.s.s word to me. I'd like to see what kind of micro-branch they were carrying."

He nodded to Tsh't. "Is that all right with you, Lieutenant?"

Streaker's fourth officer clapped jaw and nodded. Orley's politeness was appreciated, but she was likelier to bite off her own tail than overrule any suggestion he made. Streaker was the first large expedition ever commanded and operated by dolphins. It had been clear from the beginning that certain humans were along whose advice bore the patina of patronomy.

She called out in Trinary.

Team One, with me- To diffract above, listening Team Two, with Suessi- To taste for treasure Team Three, with Orley- To aid him scheming Drop nothing of Earth here- To betray our visit Clean it up after- If you must s.h.i.t Think before acting- In tropic-clear logic Now Streakers, with stillness- Away! *

In precise order three formations peeled off, one group embellishing with a synchronized barrel roll as they pa.s.sed Orley's sled. In obedience to Tsh't's orders, the only sound was the rapid clicking of cetacean sonar.

Orley rode the sled until he was within forty meters of the hulk. Then he patted Hannes on the back and rolled off to the side.