by David Brin
"We've been tracing circuits since then," the senior officer finished.
Suessi swam over to look at the set. Of course, the thing to do was tear it apart and check it by hand. But the electronics were sealed away against the wetness.
If only we were in free fall so the fins could work without all this damned water everywhere.
"All right," he sighed. "With your permission, Hikahi, I'll kick you two officers and gentlefems out of the control room and look at the unit. Don't bother the fen resting in the hold."
Hikahi nodded. "I'll send a crew to follow the monofilament and see if it's intact."
"Good thinking. And don't worry. I'm sure nothing's really the matter. It's probably just gremlins at work."
38 ::: Charles Dart
"I'm afraid they've only taken the damned robot down another eighty meters. That kid Toshio will only work on it for a few hours, then he's always got to be off helping Dennie and Gillian run their new clients through mazes, or having them knock down bananas with poles or something. I tell you it's frustrating! The rotten little half-wrecked probe's carrying mostly the wrong kinds of instruments for geological work. Can you imagine how bad it will be when we get it down to a decent depth?"
The holographic image of the metallurgist Brookida seemed to look past Charles Dart for a moment. Apparently, the dolphin scientist was referring to his own displays. Each eye was covered with a goggle lens to correct for astigmatism when reading. He turned back to look at his chimp colleague.
"Charlie. You talk so assuredly about sending thisss robot deeper into Kithrup's crust. You complain that it has gone down 'only' five hundred meters. Are you cognizant that that-t is half a kilometer?"
Charlie scratched his fuzzy jaw. "Yeah? So what? The excavation has got so little taper that it might easily drop down as much farther as it's already gone. It's a wonderful mineralogical lab! Already I'm finding out a lot about the subsurface zone!"
Brookida sighed. "Charlie, aren't you curious as to why the cavern under Toshio's island goes down even one hundred metersss?"
"Hmmm? What do you mean?"
"I mean that the so-called 'drill-tree' that'ss responsible for this excavation cannot have dug so deep merely in search of carbon and silicate nutrients. It can't-t have…"
"How would you know? Are you an ecologist?" Charlie rapped out a sharp laugh. "Honestly Brookida, what do you base these suppositions on? Sometimes you surprise me!"
Brookida waited patiently for the chimpanzee to finish laughing. "I base them on a well-informed layman's knowledge of basic lawsss of nature, and upon Occam's Razor. Think of the volume of material removed! Has it been scattered upon the watersss? Has it occurred to you that there are tens of thousands of these metal-mounds along this plate boundary, most with their own drill-trees… and that there may have been millions of such deep excavations dug in recent geologic time?"
Dart started to snigger, then he stopped. He stared for a moment at the image of his cetacean colleague, then laughed in earnest. He pounded the desk.
"Touche! All right, sir! We'll add 'Why these holes?' to our list of questions! Fortunately I've been cultivating an ecologist lab-mate for the last few months. I've done her innumerable favors, and it happens she's at the site of our quandary! I'll ask Dennie to get to work on it right away! Rest assured, we'll know soon enough what these drill-trees are up to!"
Brookida didn't bother answering. He did let out a small sigh.
"Now that that's settled," Charlie went on, "let's get back to the really important stuff: Can you help persuade the captain to let me go out there in person and take a real deep-probe robot with me to replace that lousy little thing Toshio salvaged?"
Brookida's eyes widened. He hesitated.
"The c-captain remains unconscious," Brookida said at last. "Makanee has twice performed surgery. According to the latest reports, the outlook remains bleak-k."
The chimp stared for a long moment. "Oh, yeah. I forgot." Charlie looked away from the holo display. "Well, then maybe Takkata-Jim will be willing. After all, the longboat's not being used. I'll ask Metz to talk to him. Will you help?"
Brookida's eyes were sunken. "I'll study these mass spectrometer data," he answered evenly. "I will call you when I have results. Now I mussst sign off, Charles Dart."
The image dissolved. Charlie was alone again.
Brookida was awfully abrupt there, he thought. Have I offended him somehow?
Charlie knew he was offensive to people. He couldn't help it. Even other chimpanzees thought him abrasive and self-centered. They said neo-chimps like him gave the race a bad rep.
Well, I've tried, he thought. And when a person's tried and failed so often, when his best attempts at gallantry turn to faux pas, and he constantly finds himself forgetting other people's names well then, maybe a guy should give up. Other people don't always win awards for kindness to me, either.
Charles Dart shrugged. It didn't matter. What point was there in pursuing an ever-elusive popularity? There was always his personal world of rocks and molten cores, of magma and living planets.
Still, I thought Brookida, at least, was my friend… He forced the thought aside.
I've got to call Metz. He'll get me what I need. I'll show 'em this planet is so unique they'll… they'll rename it after me! There are precedents. He chuckled as he tugged on his ear with one hand and punched out a code with the other.
An idle thought came to him, as he waited for the computer tracer to track down Ignacio Metz. Wasn't everybody waiting to hear from Tom Orley? That was all anybody 'd talk about, a while back.
Then he remembered that Orley's report was supposed to come in yesterday, about the time Creideiki was hurt.
Ah! Then Tom was probably successful at whatever it was he was doing, and nobody bothered to tell me. Or maybe somebody did, and I wasn't listening again. Anyway, I'm sure he got everything squared away with the ETs. About time, too. Damned nuisance being hunted all over the galaxy, forced to fill the ship with water…
Metz's number appeared on the intercom. The line was ringing.
It was a shame about Creideiki. He was awfully stiff and serious for a fin, and not always reasonable… but Charlie couldn't bring himself to feel happy to have him out of the way. In fact, it gave him a queer sensation in his stomach whenever he thought about the captain being removed from the picture.
Then don't think about it! Jeez! When has it ever paid to worry?
"Ah, Dr. Metz! Did I catch you as you were going out? I was wondering, could we have a talk together soon? Later this afternoon? Good! Yes, I do have a very, very small favor to ask…"
39 ::: Makanee
A physician must be part intellectual and part alchemist, part sleuth and part shaman, Makanee thought.
But in medical school they never told her she might have to be a soldier and a politician, as well.
Makanee had trouble keeping a dignified demeanor. In fact, she felt on the verge of insubordination. Her tail crashed to the water's surface, sending spray over the canals of sick bay.
"I tell you I can't-t-t operate alone! My aides haven't the skill to assist me! I'm not sure I could do it even if they did! I must-t-t talk to Gillian Baskin!"
With one eye lazily lifted above the water line, one harness arm holding a channel stanchion, Takkata-Jim glanced at Ignacio Metz. The human returned an expression of great patience. They had expected this sort of reaction from the ship's surgeon.
"I'm sure you underrate your skill, Doctor," Takkata-Jim suggested.
"So you're a sssurgeon, now? I need your opinion? Let-t me talk to Gillian!"
Metz spoke placatingly. "Doctor, Lieutenant Takkata-Jim has just explained that there are military reasons for the partial communications blackout. Data from the detection buoys appear to indicate a psi leak somewhere within a hundred kilometers of this spot. Either the crew working under Hikahi and Suessi or the people at the island are responsible. Until we trace the leak…"
"You a
re acting on the basis of information from a buoy? It was a defective buoy that almost k-k-killed C-C-Creideiki!"
Metz frowned. He wasn't used to being interrupted by dolphins. He noted that Makanee was quite agitated. Too agitated, in fact, to speak with the Anglic diction a fin in her position should use. This was certainly data for his files… as was her belligerent attitude.
"That was a different buoy, Physician Makanee. Remember, we have three on station. Besides, we aren't claiming the leak is necessarily real, only that we must treat it as real until proven otherwise."
"But the blackout isn't total! I hear that chimpanzee is ssstill getting his Iki-damned robot-t data! So why won't you let me talk to Dr. Baskin?"
Metz wanted to curse. He had asked Charles Dart to keep quiet about that. Damn the necessity to keep the chimp placated!
"We are eliminating the possibilities one at a time," Takkata-Jim tried to soothe Makanee. At the same time he assumed a head-down forward stance, dominant assertive body language. "As soon as those in contact with Charles Dart — the young humans Iwashika and Sudman and the poet Sah'ot — have been eliminated as possible leaks, then we will contact Dr. Baskin. Surely you see that she is less likely to be the one carelessly leaking psi energy than these others, so we must check them first."
Metz's eyebrows rose slightly. Bravo! The excuse wouldn't hold up under close scrutiny, of course. But it had a flavor of reasonability! All they needed was a little time! If this kept Makanee quiet for just another couple of days, that should be enough.
Takkata-Jim apparently noticed something of Metz's approval. Encouraged, he grew more assertive. "Now, enough delaying, Doctor! We came down here to find out about the captain's condition. If he's unable to resume his duties, a new commanding officer mussst be selected. We're in a crisis and cannot put up with delays!"
If this was meant to intimidate, it had the opposite effect. Makanee's tail churned. Her head rose out of the water. She turned one narrowed eye to the male dolphin and chattered in sarcastic verse.
* I'd thought that you
— had misremembered
— duty's orders
* How nice to note
— I had mistaken
— your behavior
* You'll not claim, in
— hasty mischief
— captain's honors?
Takkata-Jim's mouth opened, baring twin vee rows of rough white teeth. For a moment it seemed to Metz he would charge the small female.
But Makanee acted first, leaping up out of the water and landing with a splash that covered both Metz and Takkata-Jim. The human spluttered and slipped off the wall curb.
Makanee whirled and disappeared behind a row of dark life-support cons. Takkata-Jim spun underwater, emitting rapid sonar clicks, seeking her out. Metz seized him by the dorsal fin before he could take off after her.
"Ah… ahem!" He grabbed a wall rail. "If we can put a stop to this foul temper, fin-people? Dr. Makanee? Will you please come back? Its bad enough half the known universe wants to hunt us down. We mustn't fight amongst ourselves!"
Takkata-Jim looked up and saw that Metz was earnest. The lieutenant continued to breathe heavily.
"Please Makanee!" Metz called again. "Let's talk like civilized folk."
They waited, and a short time later Makanee's head emerged from between two autodocs. Her expression was no longer defiant, simply tired. Her physician's harness made tiny whirring sounds. The delicate instruments shook slightly, as if held in trembling hands.
She rose so only her blowmouth broke the surface.
"I apologize," she buzzed. "I know Takkata-Jim would not assume permanent captaincy without a vote by the ship's council."
"Of course he wouldn't! This is not a military vessel. The duties of the executive officer aboard a survey ship are mostly administrative, and his succession to command must be ratified by a ship's council as soon as one can be conveniently arranged. Takkata-Jim is fully aware of the rules involved, is that right, Lieutenant?"
"Yessss."
"But until then we must accept Takkata-Jim's authority or have chaos! And in the meantime, Streaker must have a chain of command. That will be ambiguous until you certify that Captain Creideiki can no longer function."
Makanee closed her eyes, breathing heavily. "Creideiki will probably not regain consciousness without further surgery. Even then it'sss chancy.
"The shock traveled along his neural connector socket into the brain. Most of the damaged areas are in the New Zones of the cortex… where basic Tursiopsss gray matter has been heavily uplift-modified. There are lesions in regions controlling both vision and speech-ch. The corpus callosum is seared…"
Makanee's eyes re-opened, but she did not appear to be looking at them.
Metz nodded. "Thank you, Doctor," he said. "You've told us what we need to know. I'm. sorry we took so much of your time. I'm sure you're doing your best."
When she did not answer, the human slipped his oxymask over his face and slid into the water. He motioned to Takkata-Jim and turned to leave.
The male dolphin clicked at Makanee for a moment longer, but when she did not move he flipped about and followed Metz toward the exit.
A shudder passed through her as the two entered the lock. She lifted her head to call after them.
"Don't forget-t when you call a ship's council that I'm a member! And Hikahi and Gillian and T-Tom Orley!" The lock was hissing shut behind them as she called. She couldn't tell if they had heard.
Makanee settled back into the water with a sigh. And Tom Orley, she thought. Don't forget him, you sneaky bastards! He'll not let you get away with this!
Makanee shook her head, knowing she was thinking irrationally. Her suspicions weren't based on facts. And even if they were true, Thomas Orley couldn't stretch his hand across two thousand kilometers to save the day. There were rumors that he was already dead.
Metz and Takkata-Jim had her all confused. She had a gut feeling that they had told her a complex assortment of truths, half-truths, and outright lies, and she had no way of knowing which was which.
They think they can fool me, just because I'm female, and old, and two uplift generations cruder than any other fin aboard but Brookida. But I can guess why they're giving special favors to the one chimpanzee member on the ship's council. Here and now, they have a majority to back up any decision they make. No wonder they're not anxious to have Hikahi or Gillian back!
Maybe I should have lied to them… told them Creideiki would awaken any minute.
But then, who can tell how desperate they are? Or what they'd resort to? Was the accident with the buoy really an accident? They could be lying to cover up ignorance — or to cover up a conspiracy. Could I protect Creideiki, with only two female aides to help me?
Makanee let out a low moan. This sort of thing wasn't her department! She sometimes wished that being a dolphin physician, like in the old days, simply meant you lifted the one you were trying to save up on your brow, and held his head above the water until he recovered, or your strength failed you, or your own heart broke.
She turned back toward Intensive Care. The chamber was darkened except for a light that shone upon a large gray neo-dolphin, suspended in a shielded gravity tank. Makanee checked the life-maintenance readings and saw that they were stable.
Creideiki blinked unseeingly, and once a brief shudder passed down the length of his body.
Makanee sighed and turned away. She swam over to a nearby comm unit and considered.
Metz and Takkata-Jim can't be back on the bridge yet, she thought. She clicked a sonar code that activated the unit. Almost instantly the face of a young, blue-finned dolphin appeared before her.
"Communications. C-can I help you?"
"Akki? Yes, child, it's Dr. Makanee. Have you made any plans for lunch? You know, I do think I still have some of that candied octopus left. You're free? How sssweet. I'll see you soon, then. Oh, and let's keep our date our little secret. Okay? That'sss a good lad."
She departed Intensive Care, a scheme beginning to form in her mind.
40 ::: Creideiki
In the quiet grayness of the gravity tank, a faint moaning cry.
* Desperate, he swims
Tossed by gray storm winds, howling:
Drowning! Drowning! *
41 ::: Tom Orley
A foul-tempered mountain growled in the middle of a scum-crusted sea.
It had stopped raining a while ago. The volcano grumbled and coughed fire at low overhanging clouds, casting orange on their undersides. Thin, twisting trails of ash blew into the sky. Where the hot cinders finally fell, it was not to a quenching by clean sea water. They landed in a muddy layer atop a carpet of dingy vines which seemed to go on forever.
Thomas Orley coughed in the dank, sooty air. He crawled up a small rise of slippery, jumbled weeds. The dead weight of his crude sledge dragged a tether wrapped around his left hand. With his right he clutched a thick tendril near the top of the weed-mound.
His legs kept sliding out from under him as he crawled. Even when he managed to wedge them into gaps in the slimy mass, his feet frequently sank into the mire between the vines. When he awkwardly pulled them out, the quagmire would let go reluctantly, giving off an awful sucking sound.
Sometimes "things" came out with his feet, squirming along his legs and dropping off to slither back into the noisome brine.
The tightly wrapped thong cut into his left hand as he pulled the sledge, a meager remnant of his solar plane and supplies. It was a miracle that he had been able to salvage even that much from the crash.
The volcano sent ochre flickers across the weedscape. Rainbow specks of metallic dust coated the vegetation in all directions. It was late afternoon, almost a full Kithrup day since he had banked his glider toward the island, searching for a safe place to land.
Tom raised his head to look blearily over the plain of weeds. All of his well-laid plans had been brought down by this plain of tough, ropy sea plants.