Seas of Ernathe

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  Ga'yl watched him with seeming interest, but no other reaction. After a minute, Seth realized that there would be none. Ga'yl was simply studying him, probably in his color focus. Al'ym had moved away completely, his attention glancing randomly about the dome. Obviously, neither had the slightest notion what Seth was trying to say, nor did either betray the least concern about the attack. Seth was stumped. And then it occurred to him that it all made sense. He should not have expected them to show concern—they were Nale'nid.

  Waking suddenly, Racart sat up on his mat. Seth hurried to him, though still keeping half an eye on Lo'ela's brothers. Seth's first worry was about his friend's physical well-being; but Racart seemed fully alert and undistressed. He smiled furtively and nodded. "They don't understand," he told Seth quietly, as if making an aside in an ongoing conversation.

  Seth was completely bewildered. "I know that," he said, staring. "Are you all right? Do you know some way of getting across to them?"

  Racart lifted his eyebrows. "What do you want to get across?"

  The starpilot scowled. "Do you know what happened?" Yes, obviously he did. "I have to get back to Lambrose somehow—or if there are ships in the area I have to get to one of them." For the moment, he was prepared to accept unquestioningly Racart's lucid, seemingly omniscient presence.

  Racart nodded. Seth hardly even registered surprise when the Ernathene began to speak, without a halt or a stutter, in the Nale'nid tongue. He talked for a minute or so, and when he had finished the two sea-men looked at each other knowingly, then came to Seth's side. Each took one of Seth's arms. Apparently they were going to take him. Seth quickly said, "Tell Lo'ela. And are you all right?" He squinted.

  Racart lay down again. "Yes."

  Seth suddenly thought, and shouted, "Tell them to decompress me!" He looked at Lo'ela's brothers nervously.

  Racart did not sit up again. "They know," he said. "By the way, two Nale'nid died in the attack."

  Seth blinked. Then his vision shimmered, and the world he knew was gone.

  * * *

  At the ship's railing, Andol Holme stared moodily across the gray, mist-sheeted water. He turned—and his face twisted in shock to see Seth and the two Nale'nid standing before him. Seth was only slightly less surprised, and it took him a moment to orient himself to the moving deck of a ship.

  "Seth! Well—" Holme said with feigned nonchalance. "I see you are here. And you weren't hurt in our little—" he gestured vaguely over the water, with a grimace. Then he gazed at Seth with fresh astonishment, and his composure broke altogether. He grabbed Seth by the shoulders and wheeled him around and pummeled him in disbelief. "By the name of the—" and he started laughing and punching him again.

  Seth broke apart himself. "Okay, okay! Stop! I'm fine!" He caught his breath and gathered himself together with a broad grin, then he gestured to the two Nale'nid. "This is Ga'yl, and this is Al'ym. Friends."

  The sea-men were alert and watchful, but they made no response. Holme gazed at the two curiously. Wonder crossed his face, then concern. He said gravely, "You know about the . . . 'first engagement'—as Richel so quaintly called it? The report I had said only that we destroyed some sort of Nale'nid building on the seafloor. We didn't know if you were in the city or not."

  "That 'some sort of building' was a Nale'nid home," Seth said quietly. "Two persons died in it. I watched it happen, from another home. Where's Mondreau? What in hell was he thinking? Is he here?" His relief at seeing Holme had evaporated in urgency.

  "He's on the flagship, and so is Mona Tremont." He pointed across the water, to the portside, where several harvesters and smaller ships rode the waves. The ship Holme pointed to was Ardello. He frowned at Seth. "Did you learn anything about Racart?"

  "Racart's all right. That is, I think so. But we've got to put a stop to this madness. We don't need a war." Seth hesitated. A crowd of ship's crewmembers had gathered around, looking curiously at both him and the two Nale'nid. "Can you get me in touch with Mondreau right now?"

  "Let's go." Holme led the way through the crowd, seizing someone's arm in the process and telling her to call the captain to the deck immediately. They headed forward, toward the bridge.

  The captain and second officer met them halfway. The captain listened to Seth's very brief summary of the situation, then ordered the second officer to ready a launch immediately while a message was sent off to Ardello. Seth thanked him; but, when he watched the launch being lowered abaft of the deckhouse, his resolution foundered in a rush of queasiness. The sea was far rougher than he had thought. High-peaked waves impacted awesomely against the hull, thumping great sheets of spray up past the railing. The wind moaned in his ears, and as he swayed with the deck roll he noticed dizzily the darkening sky and the lines of white turbulence that crossed and crisscrossed the ragged sea, almost swallowing the profiles of the other ships in gray and black and white obscurity. It would be dark in the city now, he thought, picturing the seafloor with its myriad domes. The wind abruptly caught a burst of spray and swept it over the deck; Seth staggered backwards, blinded and wet, and would have tumbled if not caught by the quick arm of a crewman.

  "Secure the launch!" the captain shouted. The craft was swinging perilously. "Hold the operation until this blows over," he instructed the second officer; then he herded everyone else to a place of greater shelter. Crewmen dashed to couple the launch to its railing halfway-cradle, while Seth and Holme peered out anxiously.

  "This has been happening all the time," Holme cried, over the rising wind. "Gusts out of nowhere, seas rising faster than any sea I've ever seen. I doubt the message got to Ardello—radio has been about as bad." Seth grunted, holding tight to a stanchion. The sea and air were playing tricks, then—or were the Nale'nid?

  "Andol—Captain!" he shouted close to their ears. "I'm not sure—but I think I can get to Ardello the same way I got here! At least I can try!" He ignored their questioning looks and turned instead to the two Nale'nid. He pointed boldly, deliberately, calling their names. Ga'yl noticed him first, and met his gaze with eyes that were lost in a focus. Seth pointed across the water to Ardello, plowing and rolling heavily in the seas. He started to speak again, then thought better of it. Instead, he moved between the two sea-men, grasped their arms, and with very great effort forced his mind into focus . . .

  Richel Mondreau's expression filled his thoughts, a face hardened in its angular lines by bureaucratic fear and genuine responsibility, by experience from missions on a dozen worlds. There was understanding but little patience borne by the large, cool eyes set deep in his face, and in the forward thrust of his head no hint of irresolution. Behind him, as in a superimposed picture, Ardello and her captain and crew . . .

  Mondreau gaped at Seth in astonishment, a mug of hot brew halfway to his mouth. Seth cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked around. He was standing, with the two Nale'nid, in the officer's wardroom of Ardello. Sergei Fenrose of Ardello, Kenelee Savage of Lambrose, and several junior officers were present—all staring in astonishment. "Stay right there!" Mondreau commanded sharply, the first to recover.

  "What?"

  "Don't disappear!" Mondreau frowned, taking stock. When Seth looked at him inquisitively, he said, "Well, Perland—we weren't expecting you."

  "No, sir."

  Sergei Fenrose stepped forward to greet him more warmly. "Glad to see you, Seth. You are well?" Seth nodded and smiled. "You have been a prisoner, or—?"

  "I've been a guest." Seth quickly introduced Al'ym and Ga'yl as friends of his, and then quickly got down to business. He summarized the important events since his separation from the land search party, skipping lightly over his relationship with Lo'ela; he concentrated on trying to explain the Nale'nid ways of thinking and behaving, as he understood them. It was rather more difficult than he had expected. But with Al'ym and Ga'yl at his side, each lost in his own focus, he tried to describe what he meant by "perception-focus." He recounted his experiences in the Grotto, as illustration, but omitted f
or the moment any reference to Racart.

  "That's quite interesting, no doubt," Mondreau acknowledged. "But how can we make use of the information? We have had many serious incidents with these people, and at the moment the survival of the Ernathe colony is at stake. Yes, indeed." He paused. "Can you communicate and negotiate with them?" He glanced dubiously at Al'ym and Ga'yl, who ignored him in return. "Or have you forgotten why you're here?"

  Seth bristled, but suppressed his anger. "I have not forgotten. Nor have I forgotten the wanton destruction of a Nale'nid home and the deaths of two Nale'nid."

  "Wanton? That's a strong word." Mondreau eyed him. "Let me state quite clearly, for your benefit, that our relationship with the Nale'nid is at this time an adversary relationship. If they do not desist in their interference with our affairs, we will stop them by force." His face relaxed slightly, while Seth stiffened. "Now. If you have practical objections to our pursuing such a course, this is the time to state them."

  "Several," Seth answered immediately, ticking his fingers while he thought rapidly. "One, the Nale'nid are the prior inhabitants of this planet, and therefore have legitimate first claim. What's more, they are probably descendants of our own people from before the entropy wars. If so, they have adapted in a remarkable way to life on this planet." Mondreau remained expressionless.

  "Two, they have never understood just what it was, in our terms, that they were doing to us. My friend Lo'ela, the sister of Al'ym and Ga'yl here, understands. She is right now trying to communicate that understanding to the others." He crossed his fingers mentally. "The fact is that only a relatively few of them were involved—and even their intentions were never malicious. It sounds strange—but they were simply curious, they were testing us to see how we would respond. They do not, by nature, think in terms of right and wrong, or moral and amoral. Or, for that matter, harm and benefit. Lo'ela can persuade them, if anyone can, of the mutual benefit of their respecting our 'focus.' "

  "Wishful thinking?" asked Mondreau.

  "I don't believe so. Third. Racart Bonhof is alive and unharmed in their undersea city, and any further military action will endanger him." The Ernathenes responded happily to that announcement, but Mondreau maintained a stolid expression.

  "Fourth—" Seth took a breath—"the Nale'nid are natural users of flux-space. You saw the way I arrived in this room. They travel that way frequently; I have done so myself, with their help." He met Mondreau's stare determinedly. "If they are willing and interested, if they come to view us as friends and fellow worthwhile creatures, I believe that they can do what the best of our pilots cannot—and without the aid, so far as I know, of mynalar-g or any other drug. They travel about this world without ships. Think what they might do in a rigger net.

  "These people may be our new starship pilots. Let's give them the chance."

  * * *

  Mondreau reacted slowly but visibly. The lines and angles of his face moved and flexed like so many joints as he absorbed Seth's words. Savage and Fenrose were nodding almost imperceptibly.

  There was a knock at the door. A junior officer went to answer it, spoke to someone for a moment, then turned and said, "Mr. Andol Holme has arrived by launch, and Mona Tremont is here with him. Shall I let them in?" Mondreau seemed not to hear the man, but Fenrose gestured affirmatively.

  Mona hurried to Seth's side and gripped his arms with a huge smile. "You are all right! Is it true about Racart—that he's safe? Oh, Seth, I knew you both would be!" She hugged him tightly, then stood away, slightly embarrassed. She glanced wonderingly at the two Nale'nid.

  "Yes, he's safe, Mona. At least for the moment. But that will depend somewhat on the decision taken here now."

  Mondreau regarded him silently. Then he stood, nodded to the other officers. "If my colleagues approve," he said at last, "we will suspend further action against the Nale'nid for the time being. Presuming that they refrain, as well. Perland, have you proposed to the Nale'nid this scheme of yours regarding starflight?"

  Seth swallowed. "Ah—no, sir."

  "Why the bloody hell not?" Mondreau looked disgusted.

  "Well—sir—the opportunity didn't arise."

  Mondreau looked more disgusted. "Perland."

  "Yes, sir."

  "You will return to their city. Can you take others with you?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Then you will, yourself, attempt to establish negotiations between our two peoples. You will attempt to interest the Nale'nid in your idea." Another, only slightly less dubious, glance at Al'ym and Ga'yl. "And—you will—attempt to secure the safe passage of Racart Bonhof. And you will report back here at the earliest opportunity. That does not mean ten or twenty days from now. Questions?"

  "No questions. I'll do everything I can." Seth did not mention his own reservations; no need to create further doubt. He nodded to his friends in the room. Then he nudged Al'ym and Ga'yl and began to bend his thoughts to the Nale'nid home.

  * * *

  Racart was awake when Seth arrived back in the dome, blinking in the dim light. But he hardly showed interest as Seth related his fortunes; rather, he sat looking darkly, broodingly into the sea. Seth could not get him to speak of himself, and so could only guess worriedly at the thoughts of his troubled friend. Finally, Racart said off-handedly, "You'll be wanting to find Lo'ela. Try the common lounge about nine domes straight across."

  Seth stared. "Did you see her?" he asked cautiously. Racart shook his head, barely. "How do you know?"

  Racart stared into the sea. "Auras. Interference patterns." He would say no more.

  Seth sighed and followed the advice. Remembering how he and Lo'ela had parted, he was a little afraid of what her feelings would be—but when he found her in the lounge, exactly as Racart had predicted, she appeared calm and confident. She moved him off to a corner to talk, but even so many Nale'nid walked by, and—strangely—most of them nodded recognition to Seth.

  "How did—?" he began, but was interrupted by a long, hard kiss from Lo'ela. He was startled for a moment, then he reciprocated. "Okay, okay," he said, laughing. Lo'ela blew on his nose, grinning, then sat back. Seth took a deep breath. "Did you get anywhere?"

  Lo'ela placed a finger on his chest. Perhaps. Many people seemed interested—in exploring what you would call "peaceful" relations with your people—and, mmm, in flying to your other stars. If you will have them. I showed some of them the stars you came from, and they saw something of my focus. Her green eyes studied him sharply. "Did I guess you correctly that you wished that?" she asked.

  Seth nodded, and chuckled helplessly. She had judged him very well, indeed, and he did not know which relieved him more—the fact that she had made more progress with the Nale'nid than he had dared hope, or the fact that she really knew him so well and still was with him. And they truly wanted to fly to the stars! They really do want to?

  The thought-communication had come effortlessly.

  Yes, indeed—they are fascinated.

  And what of the . . . the . . . "What of the attack—on the dome—and the people killed?"

  It stirred their curiosity about your kind. Her face clouded. It did not disturb them as it did you. And me. Those killed knew an assault was coming—and they wanted to know how it would feel.

  "Many of your people die for curiosity, don't they?" Seth asked softly.

  Yes. Sadly.

  Perhaps those who would fly to the stars will not feel that so necessary.

  She smiled a little. Perhaps not.

  He held her gaze gently, squeezing her hands.

  They were—curious—that a people so rigid as to require a drug to see the world-within-the-world should spring back so excitedly at a few jovial pranks. Lo'ela tilted her head. They find you people very curious, my starman.

  * * *

  Seth returned with Lo'ela to Ardello and faced a skeptical Mondreau with the story of Lo'ela's progress. His arm never left the sea-girl's waist as he stood before the officers, and he answered Mondreau's q
uery as to the nature of their relationship with the statement, "I think the best way to put it is . . . that we have found a focus in one another."

  Mondreau scowled, and pointedly ignored the mirth visible on several other faces. "Now just what the hell does that mean, Perland? Are you trying to say that you are in love with the girl?"

  Seth thought it over for a moment. "I guess you could put it that way, too," he acknowledged.

  "Then why didn't you just say so?" Mondreau sighed and looked around the room. "Well, maybe that's not so bad, actually."

  "I don't think so, sir."

  "Who asked you?" Humming raspily, he rapped his knuckles on the wardroom table. "Did you wish to make another recommendation, then?"

  "Um, yes. I suggest that the ships return to Lambrose. Disarm. Give us time to find sea-people willing to learn about starflight. Let us settle the people down and help them find less disruptive ways of focusing on humans—that is, our humans." Seth met Lo'ela's glance. Can we do it?

  You've done very well so far. If this man is anything like you.

  Mondreau still looked skeptical. "That's quite a lot you're proposing. Is your friend—Lo'ela?—competent to speak for her people?"

  "No one can speak for all the Nale'nid. That's part of the way they are. But I think we can influence them."

  "Without a military presence?"

  "Mr. Mondreau—I can't stress too highly—the military presence intrigues them. They think it's curious that we reacted violently. The worst thing we could possibly do would be to encourage them to focus on our violent behavior. They would only want to provoke more of it. Better that they should focus as Lo'ela has, or even lose interest altogether."

  "Perland, can your friend Lo'ela speak our language?"