Uplift 2 - Startide Rising

by David Brin

Sah'ot realized that, for all of his previous efforts to break her down, he hadn't really wanted her to change. At least, not this way.

  He drifted unhappily until a tether attached to one of the sleds brought him up short. His new assignment kept him linked to this electrical obscenity, chafed and cramped in a tiny pool while his real work was out in the open sea with the pre-sentients!

  When Gillian and Keepiru left, he had assumed their absence would free him to do pretty much what he wanted. Hah! No sooner had the pilot and the human physician left, than did Toshio -- Toshio, of all persons -- step in and assume command.

  I should have been able to talk rings around him. How in the Five Galaxies did the boy manage to get the upper hand?

  It was hard to remember how. But here he was, stuck monitoring a damned robot for a pompous, egocentric chimpanzee who cared only about rocks! The dumb little robot didn't even have a brain one could TALK to! You don't have conversations with microprocessors. You tell them what to do, then helplessly watch the disaster when they take you literally!

  His harness gave of a chime. It was time to check on the probe. Sah'ot clucked a sarcastic response.

  * Yes indoody,

  Lord and master!

  * Metal moron,

  And disaster!

  * Beep again,

  I'll work faster!

  Sah'ot brought his left eye even with the sled's screen. He sent a pulse-code to the robot, and a stream of data returned.

  The 'bot had finally digested the most recent rock sample. He ordered the probe's small memory emptied into the sled's data banks. Toshio had run him through the drill until Sah'ot could control the 'bot almost unconsciously.

  He made it anchor one end of a monofilament line to the rough rock, then lower itself another fifty meters.

  The old explanation for the hole beneath the metal-mound had been discarded. The drill-tree couldn't have needed to dig a tunnel a kilometer deep in search of nutrients. It shouldn't have been able to pierce the crust that far. The mass of the drill root was clearly too great to have been rotated by the modest tree that once stood atop the mound.

  The amount of material excavated wouldn't fit atop ten metal-mounds. It was found as sediment all around the high ridge on which the mound sat.

  To Sah'ot these mysteries weren't enticing. They only proved once again that the universe was weird, and that maybe humans and dolphins and chimps ought to wait a while before challenging its deeper puzzles.

  The robot finished its descent. Sah'ot made it reach out and seize the cavity wall with diamond-tipped claws, then retract its tether from above.

  Down in stages it would go. For this little machine there would be no rising. Sah'ot felt that way himself, sometimes, especially since coming to Kithrup. He didn't really expect ever to leave this deadly world.

  Fortunately, the probe's sampling routine was fairly automatic once triggered. Even Charles Dart should have little excuse to complain. Unless ...

  Sah'ot cursed. There it was again -- the static that had plagued the probe since it had passed the half-kilometer mark. Toshio and Keepiru had worked on it, and couldn't find the problem.

  The crackling was unlike any static Sah'ot had ever heard ... not that he was an expert on static. It had a syncopation of sorts, not all that unpleasant to listen to, actually. Sah'ot had heard that some people liked to listen to white noise. Certainly nothing was more undemanding.

  The clock on his harness ticked away. Sah'ot listened to the static, and thought about perversities, about love and loneliness.

  [Scanner's note: Again, a mono-spaced font like Courrier is required to see the following 6 lines laid out properly. Other future passages like this will not be marked with a note like this.]

  * I swim --

  circles -- like the others

  And learn * --

  sadly -- I am

  Sightlessly * --

  Sighing -- alone

  Slowly Sah'ot realized he had adopted the rhythm of the "noise" below. He shook his head. But when he listened again it was still there.

  A song. It was a song!

  Sah'ot concentrated. It was like trying to follow all parts of a six-part fugue at the same time. The patterns interleaved with an incredible complexity.

  No wonder they had all thought it noise! Even he had barely caught on!

  His harness timer chimed, but Sah'ot didn't notice. He was too busy listening to the planet sing to him.

  47 ::: Streaker

  Moki and Haoke had both volunteered for guard duty, but for different reasons.

  Both enjoyed getting out of the ship for a change. And neither dolphin particularly minded having to stay plugged in to a sled for hours at a stretch in the dark, silent waters outside the ship.

  But beyond that they differed. Haoke was there because he felt it was a necessary job. Moki, on the other hand, hoped guard duty would give him a chance to kill something.

  "I wissshh Takkata-Jim sent me after Akki, instead of K'tha-Jon," Moki rasped. "I could've tracked the smartasss just as well."

  Moki's sled rested about twenty yards from Haoke's, on the high underwater bluff overlooking the ship. Arc lamps still shone on Streaker's hull, but the area was deserted now off-limits to all but those few cleared by the vice-captain.

  Moki looked at Haoke through the flexible bubble-dome of his sled. Haoke was silent, as usual. He had ignored Moki's comment completely.

  Arrogant spawn of a stink-squid! Haoke was another Tursiops smart-aleck, like Creideiki and that stuck up little midshipfin, Akki.

  Moki made a small sound-sculpture in his mind. It was an image of ramming and tearing. Once, he had put Creideiki in the role of the victim. The captain who had so often caught him goldbricking, and embarrassed him by correcting his Anglic grammar, had finally got his just deserts. Moki was glad, but now he needed another fantasy target. It was no fun to imagine ripping into nobody in particular.

  The Calafian, Akki, served well when it was discovered that the young middie had betrayed the vice-captain. Moki had hoped to be the one sent after Akki, but Takkata-Jim had ordered K'tha-Jon out instead, explaining that the purpose was to bring Akki back for discipline, not to commit murder.

  The giant had seemed oblivious to such nice distinctions when he departed equipped with a powerful laser rifle. Perhaps Takkata-Jim had less than perfect control over K'tha-Jon, and had sent him away for his own safety. From the gleam in K'tha-Jon's eye, Moki did not envy the Calafian when the youth was found.

  Let K'tha-Jon have Akki! One small pleasure lost didn't take away much from Moki's overall joy.

  It was good to be BIG, for a change! On his off-duty time, everybody got out of Moki's way, as if he was a pod leader! Already he had his eye on one or two of those sexy little females in Makanee's sick bay. Some of the younger males looked good, too ... Moki wasn't particular.

  They would all come around soon enough, when they saw the way the current pulled. He briefly resisted an urge, but couldn't help himself. He let out a short skirr of triumph in a forbidden form.

  # Glory! is, is,

  Glory!

  # Biting is and Glory!

  Females submit!

  # A new bull is! is! #

  He saw Haoke react at last. The other guard jerked slightly and raised his head to regard Moki. He was silent, though, as Moki met his eye defiantly. Moki sent a focused beam of sonar directly at Haoke, to show he was listening to him, too!

  Arrogant stink-squid! Haoke would get his, too, after Takkata-Jim had locked his jaws on the situation. And the men of Earth would never disapprove, because Big-Human Metz was at Takkata-Jim's side, agreeing with everything!

  Moki let out another squeal of Primal, tasting the forbidden primitiveness with delight. It pulled at something deep inside him. Each taste brought on further hunger for it.

  Let Haoke click in disgust! Moki dared even the Galactics to come and try to interfere with him and his new captain!

  Haoke bore Moki's bestial
squawking stoically. But it reminded him that he had joined up with a gang of cretins and misfits.

  Unfortunately, the cretins and misfits were right, and the brightest of Streakers crew were caught up in a disastrous misadventure.

  Haoke was desperately sad over the crippling of Creideiki. The captain had obviously been among the best the breed could produce. But the accident had made possible a quiet and perfectly legal change in policy, and he couldn't regret that. Takkata-Jim at least recognized the foolishness of pursuing the desperate Trojan Seahorse scheme.

  Even if Streaker could be moved silently to the Thennanin wreck, and if Tsh't's crew had miraculously set things up so Streaker could wear the hulk as a gigantic disguise-and actually take off under those conditions -- what would that win them?

  Even if Thomas Orley had reported that Thennanin were still in the battle in space, there remained the question of fooling those Thennanin into coming to rescue a supposed lost battleship, and escorting it to the rear. A dubious chance.

  The question was moot. Orley was obviously dead. There had been no word for days, and now the gamble had turned into a desperate wish.

  Why not just give the thrice-damned Galactics what they want! Why this romantic nonsense of saving the data for the Terragens Council. What do we care about a bunch of dangerous long-lost hulks, anyway? It's obviously no business of ours if the Galactics want to fight over the derelict fleet. Even the Kithrup aboriginals weren't worth dying for.

  It all seemed plain to Haoke. It was also apparent to Takkata-Jim, whose intelligence Haoke respected.

  But if it was so obvious, why did people like Creideiki and Orley and Hikahi disagree?

  Quandaries like this were the sort of thing that had kept Haoke a SubSec in the engine room instead of trying for non-com or officer, as his test scores had indicated.

  Moki blatted another boast-phrase in Primal. It was even louder, this time. The Stenos was trying to get a rise out of him.

  Haoke sighed. Many of the crew, had begun behaving that way, not quite as bad as Moki, but bad enough. And it wasn't just Stenos, either. Some of the Stenos were behaving better than some Tursiops. As morale dissolved, so did the motivation to maintain Keneenk, to keep up the daily fight against the animal side that always wanted out. One would hardly have been able to predict, weeks ago, who later turned out to be the most susceptible.

  Of course, all the best crewfen were away, with Suessi and Hikahi.

  Fortunately, Haoke thought. He dwelt on the irony of good going to bad, and right coming out of wrong. At least Takkata-Jim seemed to understand how he felt, and didn't hold it against him. The vice-captain had taken Haoke's support with gratitude.

  He could hear Moki's tail thrash, but, before the angry little Stenos could voice another taunt, both of their sled speakers came to life.

  "Haoke and Moki? CommSec Fin Heurka-Pete calling ... Ack-cknowledge!"

  The call was from the ship's comm and detection operator. The fact that the jobs had been combined showed just how bad things were.

  "Roger, Haoke here. Moki's indisposed at the moment. What'sss up?"

  He heard Moki choke a protest. But it was clear the fin would be a while reformatting his mind for Anglic.

  "We have a sonic bogey to the east-t, Haoke ... sounds like a sled. If hostile, destroy. If it's someone from the island, they must be turned back-ck. If they refuse, shoot to disable the sled!"

  "Understood. Haoke and Moki on our way."

  "All right, gabby," he told the speech-tied Moki. Haoke gave his partner a long, narrow grin. "Let'sss check it out. And watch that trigger! We're only enforcing a quarantine. We don't shoot at crewmates unless we absolutely have to!"

  With a neural impulse he turned his sled motor on. Without looking back, he lifted off from the muddy rise, then accelerated slowly to the east.

  Moki watched Haoke head out before turning his sled to follow.

  # Tempted, tempted ... tempted, Moki, is, is

  # Temptation, delicious is -- is -- is! #

  The sleds dropped, one after another, into the gloom. On a passive sonar screen they were small, blurry dots that drifted slowly past the shadow of the seamount, then disappeared behind it.

  Keepiru opened his harness's right claw and dropped the portable listening unit. It tumbled down to the soft ooze. He turned to Gillian.

  * Done and gone

  They chase our shadows

  * They'll not like --

  To catch false prey! *

  Gillian had expected guards. Several kilometers back they had left the sled on delayed automatic, and swam off to the north and west. By the time the sled started up again, they had circled to a few hundred yards west of the outlock.

  Gillian touched Keepiru's flank. The sensitive hide trembled under her hand. "You remember the plan, Keepiru?"

  * Need you ask? *

  Gillian raised an eyebrow in surprise. A triple upsweep trill and a wavering interrogative click? That was an unusually brief and straightforward reply for Trinary. Keepiru was capable of more subtlety than she had thought.

  "Of course not, dear bow-wave rider. I apologize. I'll do my part, and I'll not worry for a moment about you doing yours."

  Keepiru looked at her as if wishing he didn't have to wear a breather. As if he wanted to speak to her in her native language. Gillian felt some of this in a gentle telempathic touch.

  She hugged his smooth gray torso. "You take care, Keepiru. Remember that you're admired and loved. Very much so."

  The pilot tossed his head.

  * To swimming -- or

  Battle

  * To warning -- or

  Rescue

  * To earning -- your

  Trust

  They dropped over the edge of the bluff and swam quickly for the ship's outer lock.

  48 ::: Takkata-Jim

  It was impossible to rest.

  Takkata-Jim envied humans the total unconsciousness they called sleep. When a man lay down for the night, his awareness of the world disappeared, and the nerves to his muscles deactivated. If he did dream, he usually didn't have to participate physically.

  Even a neo-dolphin couldn't just turn himself off that way. One or the other hemisphere of the brain was always on sentry duty to control his breathing. Sleep, for a fin, was both a milder and a far more serious thing.

  He knocked about the captain's stateroom, wishing he could go back to his own, smaller cabin. But symbolism was important to the crew he had inherited. His followers needed more than the logic of legality to confirm his command. They needed to see him as the New Bull. And that meant living in the style of the former herd leader.

  He took a long breath at the surface and emitted clicks to illuminate the room in sound-images.

  Creideiki certainly had eclectic tastes. Ifni knew what sorts of things the former captain had owned which couldn't stand wetness, and had therefore been stowed away before Streaker landed on Kithrup. The collection that remained was striking.

  Works by artists of a dozen sentient races lay sealed behind glass cases. Sound-stroke photos of strange worlds and weird, aberrant stars adorned the walls.

  Creideiki's music system was impressive. He had recordings by the thousands, songs and eerie ... things that made Takkata-Jim's spine crawl when he played them. The collection of whale ballads was valuable, and a large fraction appeared to have been collected personally.

  By the desk comm, there was a photo of Creideiki with the officers of the James Cook. Captain Helene Alvarez herself had signed it. The famous explorer had her arm over her dolphin exec's broad, smooth back as she and Creideiki mugged for the camera.

  Takkata-Jim had served on important ships--cargo vessels supplying the Atlast and Calafia colonies -- but he had never been on missions like those of the legendary Cook. He had never seen such sights, nor heard such sounds.

  Until the Shallow Cluster ... until they found dead ships the size of moons ....

  He thrashed his tail in frustration. H
is flukes struck the ceiling painfully. His breath came heavily.

  It didn't matter. Nothing that he had done would matter if he succeeded! If he got Streaker away from Kithrup with her crew alive! If he did that, he would have a photo of his own. And the arm on his back would be that of the President of the Confederacy of Earth.

  A shimmering collection of tiny motes began to collect to his right. The sparkles coalesced into a holographic image, a few inches from his eye.

  "Yess, what is it!" he snapped.

  An agitated dolphin, harness arms flexing and unflexing, nodded nervously. It was the ship's purser, Suppeh.

  "Sssir! Sssomething strange has happened. We weren't sssure we should wake you, but-t-t ..."

  Takkata-Jim found the fin's Underwater Anglic almost indecipherable. Suppeh's upper register warbled uncontrollably.

  "Calm down and talk slowly!" he commanded sharply. The fin flinched, but made an effort to obey.

  "I ... I was in the outlock-k. I heard someone say there was an alert-t. Heurka-pete sent Haoke and Mold after sled-sounds ..."

  "Why wasn't I informed?"

  Suppeh recoiled in dismay. For a moment he appeared too frightened to speak. Takkata-Jim sighed and kept his voice calm. "Never mind. Not your fault. Go on."

  Visibly relieved, Suppeh continued. "A f-few minutes later, the light on the personnel outlock-k came on. Wattaceti went over, and I p-p-paid no heed. But when Life-Cleaner and Wormhole-Pilot entered ..."

  Takkata-Jim spumed. Only dire need to hear Suppeh's story without delay prevented him from crashing about the room in frustration!

  . . tried to stop them, as you ordered, but-t Wattaceti and Hiss-kaa were doing back flipsss of joy, and dashed about fetching for them both-th!"