by David Brin
A brief appendix at the bottom warned that these profiles were only valid in the surface crust and upper asthenosphere regions, and were invalid any more than two kilometers below the surface.
Gillian smiled. Someday Charlie's compulsiveness might save them all.
She stepped from her office onto a parapet above a large open chamber. Water filled the central part of the room up to two meters below the parapet. Bulky machines stuck out above the water. The upper half of the chamber, including Gillian's office, was inaccessible to dolphins unless they came riding a walker or spider.
Gillian didn't bother with the folded facemask at her belt. She looked below, then dove, plunging between two rows of dark autodocs. The large, oblong glassite containers were silent and empty.
All the waterways of sick bay were shallow to allow open breathing and dry surgery. She swam with long, strong strokes, gripped the corner of one machine to make a turn, and passed through a stripdoor into the trauma unit.
She surfaced, open-mouthed, for air, bobbed for a moment, then swam over to a wall of thick leaded glass. Two bandaged dolphins floated in a heavily shielded gravity tank.
One occupant, connected to a maze of tubing, had the dull-eyed look of heavy sedation. The other whistled cheerfully as Gillian approached.
"I greet you, Life-Cleaner! Your potions scour my veins, but it's this taste of weightlessness which liftsss my spacer's heart. Thank you!"
"You're welcome Hikahi." Gillian treaded water easily, not bothering with the curb and rail near the gravity tank. "Just don't get too used to the comfort. I'm afraid Makanee and I are going to kick you out soon, as penalty for having such an iron constitution."
"As opposed to one of bismuth or c-c-cadmium?" Hikahi spluttered a razzberry-like chuckle.
Gillian laughed. "Indeed. And being healthy will be your tough luck. We'll have you out of here, breathing bubbles and standing on your tail for the captain in no time."
Hikahi gave her small neo-fin smile. "You're certain this isn't too risky, turning on thisss gravity tank? I wouldn't want Satima and me to be responsible for giving the show away."
"Relax, fem-fin." Gillian shook her head. "We triple-checked. The leak-detection buoys aren't picking up a thing. Enjoy it and don't worry.
"Oh, and I hear the captain may be sending a small team back to your island to examine those pre-sentients you found. I figured you'd be interested. It's a sign he's not worried about Galactics in the short term. The space battle may last a long time, and we might be able to hide indefinitely."
"An indefinite stay on Kithrup's not my idea of paradise!" Hikahi opened her mouth in a grin of irony. "If that's meant as cheery news, please warn me when your message is depressing!"
Gillian laughed. "I will. Now you get some sleep. Shall I turn down the light?"
"Yess, please. And Gillian, thanks for the news. I do think it's very important we do something about the abos. I hope the expedition is a success.
"Tell Creideiki I'll be back on duty before he can open a can of tuna."
"I will. Pleasant dreams, dear." Gillian touched the dimmer switch and the lights gradually faded. Hikahi blinked several times, apparently settling into a seaman's nap.
Gillian headed for the outer clinic, where Makanee would be dealing with a line of complaining crewfen at sick call. Gillian would show the physician Charlie's isotope profiles and then go back to her own lab to work for a while longer.
Sleep called to her, but she knew it would be a long time coming. In this mood that had come upon her she felt reluctant.
Logic was the blessing and the curse of her upbringing. She knew that Tom was where he was supposed to be -- out pursuing ways to save them all. He knew it as well. His departure had been hasty and necessary, and there simply hadn't been time to seek her out to say good-bye.
Gillian was aware of all of these considerations. She repeated them to herself as she swam. But they only seemed to disconnect the larger from the smaller of her problems, and rob of poignant consolation the unattractiveness of her empty bed.
19 ::: Creideiki
"Keneenk is a study of relationships," he told his audience. "That part comes from our dolphin heritage. Keneenk is also a study of strict comparisons. This second part we learn from our human patrons. Keneenk is a synthesis of two world-views, much as we ourselves are."
About thirty neo-dolphins floated across from him, bubbles rising slowly from their blowmouths, intermittent unconscious sonar clicks their only sound.
Since there were no humans present, Creideiki did not have to use the crisp consonants and long vowels of standard Anglic. But, transcribed onto paper, his words would have pleased any English grammarian.
"Consider reflections from the surface of the ocean, where the air meets the water," he suggested to his pupils. "What do the reflections tell us?"
He saw puzzled expressions.
"Reflections from which side of the water, you wonder? Do I speak of the reflections felt from below the interface or from above?
"Moreover, do I mean reflections of sound, or of light?"
He turned to one of the attentive dolphins. "Wattaceti, imagine yourself one of our ancestors. Which combination would occur to you?"
The engine room tech blinked. "Sound images, Captain. A pre-sentient dolphin would have thought of sound reflections in the water, bouncing against the surface from below"
The tech sounded tired, but Wattaceti still attended these sessions, in a fervent desire for self-improvement. It was for the morale of fen like Wattaceti that the busy captain made time to continue them.
Creideiki nodded. "Quite right. Now, what would be the first type of reflection thought of by a human?"
"The image of light from above," the mess chief, S'tat, answered promptly.
"Most probably, though we all know that even some of the `big-ears' can eventually learn to hear."
There was a general skree of laughter at the harmless little put-down of the patron race. The laughter was a measure of crew morale, and he weighed it as he might test the mass of a fuel cell by hefting it between his jaws.
Creideiki noticed for the first time that Takkata-Jim and K'tha-Jon had swum up to join the group. Creideiki quashed a momentary concern. Takkata-Jim would have signaled if something had come up. He seemed to be here simply to listen.
If this was a sign the vice-captain was ending his long, unexplained sulk, Creideiki was glad. He had kept Takkata-Jim aboard, instead of sending him out to accompany Orley and the rescue party, because he wanted to keep his exec under his scrutiny. He had reluctantly begun to think that the time might have come to make some changes in the chain of command.
He waited for the snickering to die down. "Consider, now. How are a human's thoughts about these reflections from the surface of the water similar to our own?"
The students assumed expressions of concentration. This would be the next-to-last problem. With so much repair work to oversee, Creideiki had been tempted to cancel the sessions altogether. But so many in the crew wanted desperately to learn Keneenk.
At the beginning of the voyage almost all the fen had participated in the lectures, games, and athletic competitions that helped stave off spaceflight ennui. But since the frightening episode at the Shallow Cluster, when a dozen crewfen had been lost exploring the terrifying derelict fleet, some had begun to detach themselves from the community of the ship, to associate with their own little groups. Some even began exhibiting a strange atavism -- increasing difficulty with Anglic and the sort of concentrated thought needed by a spacer.
Creideiki had been forced to juggle schedules to find replacements. He had given Takkata-Jim the task of finding jobs for the reverted ones. The task seemed to suit the vice-captain. With the aid of bosun K'tha-Jon he seemed to have found useful work for even the worst stricken.
Creideiki carefully listened to the swish of flukes, the uncomfortable gurgling of gill-lungs, the rhythm of heartbeats. Takkata-Jim and K'tha-Jon floated quietly,
apparently attentive. But Creideiki sensed in each of them an underlying tension.
Creideiki shivered. There had come a suddenly vivid mental image of the vice-captain's shrewd, sullen eye, and the bosun's great, sharp teeth. He suppressed it, chiding himself for having an overactive imagination. There was no logical reason to fear either of those two!
"We are contemplating reflections from an interface between air and water." He hurriedly resumed his lecture. "Both humans and dolphins envision a barrier when they consider such a surface. On the other side is a realm that is only faintly apparent until the barrier is crossed. Yet the modern human, with his tools, does not fear the water side, as he once did. The neo-fin, with his tools, can live and work in the air, and look down without discomfort.
"Consider how your own thoughts stretched out when I asked my original question. The idea of sound reflecting from below came to mind first. Our ancestors would have complacently stopped with that first generalization, but you did not stop there. You did not generalize without considering further alternatives. This is a common hallmark of planning creatures. For us it is a new thing."
The timer on Creideiki's harness chimed. It was growing late. Tired as he was, he still had a meeting to attend, and he wanted to stop at the bridge to find out if there had been any word from Orley.
"How does a cetacean, whose heritage, whose very brain is built on intuitive thinking, learn to analyze a complex problem, piece by piece? Sometimes the key to an answer is found in the way you formulate the question. I'll leave you all today with an exercise for your idle moments.
"Try to state the problem of reflections from the surface of water in Trinary ... in a way that demands not a single answer, or a three-level opposition, but a plain listing of the reflections that are possible."
He saw several of the fen frown uncomfortably.
The captain smiled reassuringly. " I know it sounds difficult, and I will not ask you to recite today. But just to show you it can be done, accept the echo of this dream."
* A layer divides
sky-star -- Sea-star
* What comes to us
At a narrow angle?
* The huntsqueaking starcatching octopus
Reflects!
* The night-calling, star following tern
Reflects!
* The star-twinkle in my lover's eye
Reflects!
* The sun, soundless, roaring showoff --
Reflects! *
Creideiki was adequately rewarded by the wide-eyed appreciation of his audience. As he turned to go, he noticed that even Takkata-Jim was shaking his head slowly, as if considering a thought that had never occurred to him before.
After the meeting broke up, K'tha-Jon persisted in his argument.
"You sssaw? You heard him, Takkata-Jim?"
"I saw and heard, Bosun. And, as usual, I was impressed. Creideiki is a geniusss. So what is it you wanted to point out to me?"
K'tha-Jon clapped his jaw, not the most polite gesture to make before a superior officer.
"He sayss nothing about the Galacticss! Nothing about the siege! Nothing at all about plans to get us away from here! Or, barring that, to fight-t!
"And meanwhile he ignores the growing split amongst the crew!"
Takkata-Jim let out a line of bubbles. "A split you have busily been encouraging, K'tha-Jon. No, don't bother protesting your innocence. You've been subtle, and I know you've been doing it to build a power base for me. So I look away.
"But don't be sure Creideiki will always be too busy to notice! When he does notice, K'tha-Jon, watch your tail! For I won't have known a thing about your little tricks!"
K'tha-Jon blew quiet bubbles, not bothering to reply.
"As for Creideiki's plans, we'll see. We'll see if he's willing to listen to Dr. Metz and myself, or if he persisssts in this dream of carting his secrets back to Earth unopened."
Takkata-Jim saw the giant Stenos was about to interrupt.
"Yesss, I know you think we should consider a third option, don't you? You'd like to see us head out and take on all the Galactics single-handed, wouldn't you, K'tha-Jon?"
The huge dolphin didn't answer, but his eyes gleamed back at the vice-captain.
Are you my Boswell, my Seaton, my Igor or my Iago? Takkata-Jim thought silently at the giant mutant. You serve me now, but in the long run, am I using you, or are you using
20 ::: Galactics
Battle screamed all around the flotilla of tiny Xappish warships.
"We have just lost the X'ktau and the X'klennu! That means almost a third of the Xappish armed might is gone!"
The elder Xappish lieutenant sighed. "So? Young one, tell me news, not things I already know."
"Our Xatinni patrons spend their clients like reaction gas, and commit their own forces miserly. Notice how they hang back, ready to flee if the battle gets too furious! Yet we they send into danger!"
"That is ever their way," the other agreed.
"But if the Xappish fleet is destroyed here, in this futile fray, who will protect our three tiny worlds, and enforce our rights?"
"Is that not what we have patrons for?" The older lieutenant knew he was being ironic. He adjusted the screens to resist a sudden psionic attack, without even changing his tone of voice.
His junior did not dignify the reply with a comment. He grumbled instead. "What did these Earthlings ever do to us, anyway? In what way do they threaten our patrons?"
A searing blast from a Tandu battle-cruiser just missed the left wing of the small Xappish scout. The junior lieutenant sent the ship into a wild evasive maneuver. The senior lieutenant replied to the question as if nothing at all had happened.
"I take it you don't believe the story that the Progenitors have returned?"
The other only snorted, while adjusting his torpedo sights.
"Aptly put. I, too, think this is merely part of a program to destroy the Earthlings. The senior patron races see the Terrans as a threat. They are wolflings, and therefore dangerous. They preach revolutionary uplift practices ... more dangerous still. They are allies of the Tymbrimi, an insult beyond forbearance. And they proselytize -- an unforgivable offense."
The scoutship shuddered as the torpedo leapt toward the Tandu destroyer. Their tiny craft accelerated mightily to get away.
"Well I think we should listen to the Earthlings," the junior lieutenant shouted. "If all the client races in the galaxy rebelled at once ..."
"It has already happened," the elder interrupted. "Study the Library records. Six times in Galactic history. And twice successfully."
"No! What happened?"
"What do you think happened? The clients went on to become patrons of newer species, and treated them just the same as ever!"
"I do not believe it! I cannot believe it!"
The elder lieutenant sighed. "Look it up."
"I shall!"
But he never did. An undetected improbability mine lay across their path. The tiny scout departed the galaxy in a manner that was picturesque, if ultimately lethal.
21 ::: Dennie and Toshio
Dennie checked the charges one more time. It was dark and crowded in the close passage of the drill-tree root. Her helmet's beam cast stark shadows through the thick maze of rootlets.
She called upward. "Are you almost finished, Toshio?"
He was planting his explosives in the upper section, near the surface of the metal-mound.
"Yeah, Dennie. If you're done, go back down now. I'll join you in a minute."
She couldn't even see his flippered feet above her. His voice was distorted in the narrow, water-filled thicket. It was a relief to be allowed to leave.
She picked her way downward carefully, fighting back waves of claustrophobia. This was no job Dennie would ever have chosen. But it had to be done, and the two dolphins were by nature unqualified.
Halfway down, she snagged herself on a strand of creeper. It didn't let go when she tugged. Thrashing only entangled her further,
and she vividly recalled Toshio's story of the killer weed. Panic almost closed in, but she forced herself to stop kicking, to take a deep breath and study the snare.
It was just a dead vine wrapped around one leg. The strand parted easily under her knife. She continued her descent more cautiously and escaped at last into the grotto beneath the metal-mound.
Keepiru and Sah'ot waited below. Hose-like breathers covered their blowmouths and wrapped around their torsos. The headlights of the two sleds diffracted through thousands of tiny threads that seemed to fill the chamber in a drifting fog. A dim light filtered into the grotto from the cave mouth through which they had entered.
* Echoes sounding, in this rock-cage
Will not be those of happy fishing *
Dennie looked at Sah'ot, unsure she had understood the poet's fancy Trinary.
"Oh! Yes. When Toshio sets the fuses, we'd better get outside. The explosion will reverberate in this chamber. I don't suppose that would be healthful."
Keepiru nodded in agreement. The expedition's military commander had been mostly silent all the way here from the ship.
Dennie looked around the underwater cavity. The coral-like, microscopic scavengers had built their castle on the rich silicate rocks of an ocean hillock. The structure had grown slowly, but when the mound finally breached the ocean surface toplife became possible. Among the vegetation which had sprouted was the drill-tree.
That plant somehow pierced the mound's metal core and penetrated to the organically useful layer beneath the island. Minerals were drawn up and deposited above. A cavity grew below, which would eventually accept the metal-mound into the crust again.
Something struck the ecologist in Dennie as odd about this arrangement. The tiny micro-branch Library aboard Streaker hadn't mentioned the metal-mounds at all, which was curious.