by David Brin
Dr. Metz frowned at the illogic of it. If the Galactics were rational, they'd let Streaker hand her discovery over to the Library Institute and have done with it! Then everyone would share equally!
But Galactic civilization was unified more in the breach than in fact. And too many angry species had big ships and guns.
Here we are, he thought, in the middle, with something they all want.
It can't just be that giant fleet of ancient ships. Something more must have set them off. Gillian Baskin and Tom Orley picked something up out there in the Shallow Cluster. I wonder what it was.
"Will you be wanting me to join you for dinner this evening, Dr. Metz?"
Metz blinked. What day was it? Ah, yes. Wednesday. "Of course, Vice-Captain. Your company and conversation would be appreciated, as usual. Shall we say sixish?"
"Perhapsss nineteen-hundred hours would be better, sir. I get off duty then."
"Very well. Until then."
Takkata-Jim nodded. He turned and swam back to his duty station.
Metz watched the fin appreciatively.
He's the best of my Stenos, Metz thought. He doesn't know I'm his godfather ... his gene-father -- But I am proud nonetheless.
All the dolphins aboard were of Tursiops amicus stock. But some had genetic grafts from Stenos bredanensis, the deep-water dolphin that had always been the closest to the bottlenose in intelligence.
Wild bredanensis had a reputation for insatiable curiosity and reckless disregard for danger. Metz had led the efort to have DNA from that species added to the neo-fin gene pool. On Earth many of the new Stenos had turned out very well, showing streaks of initiative and individual brilliance.
But a reputation for harsh temperament had lately caused some resentment in Earth's coastal communities. He had worked hard to convince the Council that it would be an important gesture to appoint a few Stenos to positions of responsibility on the first dolphin-crewed starship.
Takkata-Jim was his proof. Coldly logical, primly correct, the fin used Anglic almost to the exclusion of Trinary, and seemed impervious to the Whale Dream that so enthralled older models like Creideiki. Takkata-Jim was the most manlike dolphin Metz had ever met.
He watched the vice-captain manage the bridge crew, with none of the little Keneenk parables Creideiki was always inserting, but rather with Anglic precision and brevity. Never a word wasted.
Yes, he thought. This one is going to get a good report when we get home.
"Doctor Metssss?"
Metz turned, and recoiled at the size of the dolphin that had silently come up beside him. "Wha ... ? Oh. K'tha-Jon. You startled me. What can I do for you?"
A truly large dolphin grinned at him. His blunt mouth, his counter-shaded body and bulging eyes, would have told Metz everything about him ... if he hadn't already known.
Feresa attenuata, the human savored the thought. So beautiful and savage. My most secret project, and nobody, not even you, K'tha-Jon, knows that you are more than just another Stenos.
"Forgive the interruption, Dr. Metsss, but the chimp scientist Charlesss Dart-t has asked to speak with you. I think the little ape wantsss to bitch to somebody again."
Metz frowned. K'tha-Jon was only a bosun, and not expected to be as refined as Takkata-Jim. Still, there were limits, even considering the giant's hidden background.
I will have to talk to this fellow, he reminded himself. This kind of attitude will never do.
"Please inform Dr. Dart that I'm on my way," he told the fin. "I'm finished here for now"
11 ::: Creideiki & Orley
"So we're armed again," Creideiki sighed. `After a fashion."
Thomas Orley looked up from the newly repaired missile tubes and nodded. "It's about as good as we're going to get, Creideiki. We weren't expecting any trouble when we popped out into a battle at the Morgran transfer point. We were lucky to get away with as little damage as we took."
Creideiki agreed.
"Just ssso," he sighed moodily. "If only I had reacted faster."
Orley noticed his friend's mood. He pursed his lips and whistled. His breather mask amplified a faint sound-shadow picture. The little echo danced and hopped like a mad elf from corner to corner in the oxywater-filled chamber. Workers in the weapons pod lifted their narrow, sound-sensitive jaws to follow the skipping sonar image as it scampered unseen, chittering in mock sympathy.
* When one commands,
One is envied by people --
But, oh! the demands! *
The sound-wraith vanished, but laughter remained. The crew of the weapons pod spluttered and squawled.
Creideiki let the mirth settle. Then, from his brow came a pattern of chamber-filling clicks that merged to mimic the sounds of thunderclouds gathering. In the closed room those present heard raindrops blown before the wind. Tom closed his eyes to let the sound-image of a sea squall close over him.
* They stand in my road,
The mad, ancient, nasty things
Tell them "move, or else!" *
Orley bowed his head, acknowledging defeat. No one had ever beaten Creideiki at Trinary haiku. The admiring sighs of the fen only confirmed this.
Nothing had changed, of course. As Orley and Creideiki turned to leave the weapons pod, they knew that defiance alone would not get this crew through the crisis. There had to be hope, as well.
Hope was scarce. Tom knew that Creideiki was desperately worried about Hikahi, though he hid it well.
When they were out of earshot, the captain asked, "Has Gillian made any progressss studying that thing we found ... the cause of all this trouble?"
Tom shook his head. " I haven't spent more than an hour with her in two days, so I don't know. Last I checked, the ship's micro-Library still claims nothing like Herbie ever existed."
Creideiki sighed. "It would have been nice to know what the Galacticsss think we found. Ah, well ..."
They were stopped by a sudden whistle behind them. Tsh't, the ship's fourth officer, flew into the hallway in a cloud of bubbles.
"Creideiki! Tom! Sonar reports a dolphin at long range, far to the eassst, but apparently swimming this way at high speed!"
Creideiki and Orley looked at each other. Then Tom nodded at the captain's unspoken command.
"Can I take Tsh't and twenty fen?"
"Yesss. Get a team ready. But don't leave until we find out who this is. You may want to take more than twenty. Or it may be hopelesss to go at all."
Tom saw pain in the captain's eye. The next hour or so of waiting would be hard.
Orley motioned for Lieutenant Tsh't to follow him, then he turned to swim at top speed down the flooded corridor toward the outlock.
12 ::: Galactics
Feeling the joy of patronhood and command, the Soro, Krat, watched the creatures, the Gello, the Paha, the Pila, her creatures, as they guided the Soro, fleet toward battle once more.
"Mistress," the Gello detection officer announced. "We are approaching the water world at one-quarter of light speed per your instructions."
Krat acknowledged with a bare flick of her tongue, but secretly she was happy. Her egg was healthy. When they won here she would be due to go home and mate once more. And the crew of her flagship was working together like a finely tuned machine.
"The fleet is one paktaar ahead of timetable, mistress," the detection officer announced.
Of all the client species owing allegiance to the Soro, the Gello were special to Krat. They were her own species' first clients, uplifted by the Soro long ago. The Gello had in their turn become patrons as well, and brought two more client races into the clan. They had made the Soro proud. The chain of uplift went on.
Deep in the past had been the Progenitors, who began Galactic Law. Since then, race had aided race to sentience, taking indentured service as payment.
Many millions of years ago, the ancient Luber had uplifted the Puber or so the Library said. The Luber were now long extinct. The Puber still existed, somewhere, though now degenerate and
decadent.
Before their decadence, though, the Puber raised up the Hui, who in turn made clients of Krat's stone-chopping, Soro ancestors. Shortly thereafter, the Hui retired to their homeworld to become philosophers.
Now the Soro themselves had many clients. Their most successful upspring were the Gello, the Paha, and the Pila.
Krat could hear the high voice of the Pila tactician Cubber-cabub, haranguing its subordinates in planning section. It was insisting they strive harder to coax the information she had requested from the shipboard mini-Library. Cubber-cabub sounded frightened. Good. It would try harder if it feared her.
Alone of those aboard, the Pila were mammals, short bipeds from a high-gravity world. They had become a powerful race in many Galaxy-wide bureaucratic organizations, including the important Library Institute. The Pila had raised clients of their own, bringing credit to the clan.
Still, it was too bad the Pila were no longer indentured clients. It would have been nice to meddle with their genes again. The furry little sophonts shed, and had a bothersome odor.
No client race was perfect. Only two hundred years ago, the Pila had been thoroughly embarrassed by the humans of Earth. The affair had been difficult and expensive to cover up. Krat did not know all of the facts, but it had something to do with the Earthlings' sun. Since that time, the Pila had hated humans passionately.
Krat's mating claw throbbed as she thought of Earthlings. In only three hundred of their years they had become almost as great a nuisance as the sanctimonious Kanten, or the devil-trickster Tymbrimi!
The Soro race patiently awaited the right opportunity to erase the blot on their clan honor. Fortunately, the humans were almost pathetically ignorant and vulnerable. Perhaps the chance had already come!
How delicious it would be to have Homo sapiens assigned to the Soro as indentured foster clients. It could happen! Then what changes could be made! How humans could be molded!
Krat looked at her crew and wished she were free to meddle, to alter, to shape at will even these adult species. So much could be done with them! But that would require changing the rules.
If the upstart water-mammals from Earth had discovered what she thought they had, then the rules might be changed ... if the Progenitors had, indeed, come back. How ironic that the newest spacefaring race should discover this derelict fleet! She almost forgave them for existing, for giving those humans the status of patrons.
"Mistress!" the tall Gello announced. "The Jophur-Thennanin alliance has broken up. They are fighting amongst themselves. This means they are no longer pre-eminent!"
"Maintain vigilance." Krat sighed. The Gello shouldn't make a big deal out of one little act of treachery. It was not unusual. Alliances would form and dissolve until one force emerged supreme. She intended that that force be Soro. When the battle was won she would collect the prize.
The dolphins must be here! When she won this battle, she would pry the handless ones out from their underwater sanctuary and make them tell all!
With a languid wave of her left paw, she summoned the Pil Librarian from his niche.
"Look into the data on these water creatures we pursue," she told it. "I want to know more about their habits, what they like and dislike. It is said their bonds to their human patrons are weak and corruptible. Give me a lever to pervert these ... dolphins."
Cubber-cabub bowed and withdrew into the Library section, the sector with the rayed spiral glyph above its opening.
Krat felt destiny all around her. This place in space was a fulcrum of power. She didn't need instruments to tell her that.
"I will have them! The rules will be changed!"
13 ::: Toshio
Toshio found Ssattatta by the bole of the giant drill-tree. The fin had been thrown against the monstrous plant and crushed. Her harness was a jumble of broken pieces.
Toshio stumbled through the ruined undergrowth whistling a Trinary call when he felt able. Mostly he tried very hard to stay on his feet. He hadn't walked much since leaving Earth. Bruises and nausea didn't help much, either.
He found K'Hith lying on a soft bed of grass-like growth. His harness was intact, but the dolphin planetologist had already bled to death from three deep gashes in his belly. Toshio made a mental note of the spot and moved on.
Closer to the shore he found Satima. The little female was bleeding and hysterical, but alive. Toshio bound her wounds with fleshfoam and repair tape. Then he took the manipulator arms of her harness and used a large rock to pound them into the loam. It was the best he could do to bind her to the ground before the fifth wave hit.
It was more a flooding than a wave. Toshio clung to a tree as it flowed past, tugging at him and rising almost to his neck.
As soon as the wave began to recede, he let go and floundered over to Satima. He groped until he found the catch on her harness, then released her to float in the growing backtow. He pushed hard to join the flood and keep from being left behind.
He was struggling to shove her around a clump of shrubs, against the growing pull of the backwash, when a swift motion in a tree overhead caught his eye. The movement didn't fit into the overall pattern of swaying subsidence. He looked up, and met the gaze of a pair of small, black eyes.
There was little time for more than a startled double take before the tide pulled him and Satima straight through the obstruction and into a small, recently made marsh. Toshio was suddenly too busy to look anywhere but straight ahead.
He had to pull Satima down the last few yards of slippery sea-plant, taking care not to reopen her wounds. In the last few minutes it had seemed she was more lucid. Her Dolphin squeakings were starting to take on form and sound like Trinary words.
A whistle brought Toshio's head up. Keepiru was only forty meters offshore, driving the sled toward him. The fin had on a breather, but he could still signal.
"Satima!" Toshio shouted to the wounded dolphin. "Go to the sled! Go to Keepiru!"
"Lash her to an airdome!" he called to Keepiru. `And keep your eye on that sonar screen! Get back out there when you see a wave coming!"
Keepiru tossed his head. As soon as Satima was a hundred feet out he used the sled to herd her toward deeper water.
Five accounted for. That left Hist-t and Hikahi.
Toshio climbed back up the sea-plant and stumbled into the undergrowth once again. The territory of his mind seemed as torn up and desolated as the island he trod upon. He had seen too many corpses for one day -- too many dead friends.
He realized now that he had been unfair to the fins all along.
It had been unjust to blame them for teasing him. They couldn't help the way they were built. All of man's genetic meddling notwithstanding, dolphins had been dealing with humanity on a level of good-natured derision since the first person paddled a log canoe out to sea. That pathetic image had been enough to set a pattern that uplift could only alter, not eliminate.
And why eliminate it? Toshio now saw that those humans he had known on Calafia, who worked best with dolphins, had had a special type of personality, generally featuring a mixture of a thick skin, firmness, and a willing sense of humor. No one worked for long with fins who hadn't earned their respect.
He hurried over to a gray form that lay in the underbrush. But no. It was Ssattatta again. She had been moved by the last wave. Toshio stumbled on.
Dolphins were quite well aware of what Mankind had done for them. Uplift was a painful process. But none of them would go back to the Whale Dream if they could help it.
The fins knew, as well, that the loose codes that ruled behavior among the Galactic races, rules established in the Library for aeons, would have let humanity demand a hundred thousand years of servitude from its clients. Men had collectively shuddered at the thought. Homo sapiens himself was barely that age. If Mankind did have a patron out there -- one strong enough to lay claim to the title -- that species wasn't going to pick up Tursiops amicus as an added bonus.
There wasn't a fin alive who wasn't aware of
Earth's attitude. There were dolphins on the Terragens Council, as well as chimpanzees.
Toshio knew at last how he had hurt Keepiru with his words during their struggle at sea. Most of all he regretted the remark about Calafia. Keepiru would willingly die a thousand times to save the humans of Toshio's homeworld.
Toshio's tongue would fall off before he said such things again. Ever.
He staggered into a clearing. There, in a shallow pool, lay a Tursiops dolphin.
"Hikahi!"
The fin was scratched and battered. Tiny bloody tracks lay along her sides. But she was awake. And as Toshio started forward she called out.
"Stay there, Sharp-Eyes! Don't-t move! We have company here!"
Toshio stopped in his tracks. Hikahi's command was specific. Yet the need to go to her was urgent. The dolphin's scratches did not look pleasant. If there were slivers of metal lodged under the skin they had to be removed soon, before blood poisoning set in. And it wasn't going to be easy getting Hikahi out to sea.
"Hikahi, there'll be another wave soon. It may reach this high. We've got to be ready for it!"
"Stay, Toshio. The wave will not reach here. Besides, look around. See how much more important this isss!"
For the first time, Toshio really noticed the clearing. The pool was set near one side, with scratch marks all around, indicating that it had been recently dug. Then he saw that the manipulator arms from Hikahi's harness were missing.
Then who ... ? Toshio's perception shifted. He saw twisted debris at the far end of the clearing, scattered through the undergrowth, and recognized the fragments of a ruined, shattered village.
In the chronic shimmering of a Kithrupan forest he saw the fragments of rude, torn, woven nets, scattered pieces of wrecked thatching, and bits of sharp metal crudely bound to wooden staves.