Sweep.
'We are much less detectable than mechanical devices,'
Lykos said. 'We are also more vulnerable. And ... I think the demands would soon include other tasks than spying.'
'What are you going to do?'
'We do not wish to spy.'
'I don't blame you. It's terrifying! I wouldn't . . .' She stopped. 'But I would have to, wouldn't I? That's why you're telling me this, isn't it? So I'll know what I'll have to do if I accept your invitation.' She shivered. J.D. thought of herself as having less than the average amount of bravery, and doubted she would make much success of spying.
'We do not intend to comply with the demands. We will not comply. We do not believe in boundaries, or hostilities between intelligent beings- However, we must take the demands seriously. Your government may rescind our right to live here, they may interfere with our research.' Lykos gestured around her, at the beautiful island and the sky and the water. 'We have accepted the boundary of the wilderness, though we never learned to like it. We do think of this territory as our home. In order to resolve our problems, we must give it up. We will travel north to Canada. We will not be able to come back. That is what you must know.' She paused.
'Soon the government will demand that we act—'
Oh, no, J.D. thought. This is all my fault. It's my publications that brought this on the divers! I described their abilities, their incredible stamina and speed, their knowledge of coastal geography . . .
'Lykos, stop it, please! Don't tell me any more. I'm sorry,
I didn't realize—I shouldn't have let you tell me this much.'
5 0 vonda N. Mdntyre
Lykos stopped. Zev splashed to J.D.'s side, distressed by her fear. He stroked her arm.
'J.D., what is wrong? It will be exciting!'
'Zev, I'm sorry . . . Lykos, I said I wouldn't tell, and I'll do my best not to—not to tell anything more about youl But it may be too late. If you resist, there's no telling how our government will react, much less the Sweep. You'll be fugitives, unprotected—you must have some idea of the power you'll be opposing.'
'I think we have no choice, J.D. It is true that I cannot see all the implications of our plan. Your knowledge of the land world is one of the reasons—though not the only 'one—
we asked you to join us.'
'I can't,' J.D. said, her voice fiat with pain and disappointment and guilt. 'I thought I could, but I can't- I'd be more of a danger to you than a help.''
'Yet you know the government will react unfavorably, perhaps even behave badly, if we act.'
'But that's obvious,' J.D. said. 'They wouldn't have any choice.'
'It is not obvious to me. Nor is it obvious why the Mideast Sweep would have any interest in us at all.'
The chill that centered in J.D.'s spine, just behind her heart, had nothing to do with wind or water or waves. She had to stop talking with Lykos before she found out more things that could injure the divers if she were compelled to say what she knew. But they accepted her, and she admired them, and she wanted to warn them.
'If you said publicly your reasons for rebelling, the Mideast Sweep would see that you might be a threat against them.
I don't think it would matter that you'd chosen not to be.
Maybe you'd change your mind, or maybe you'd be forced to act against them. You wouldn't be safe in the open sea.'
Lykos placed her hand flat on the water, swimming webs spread, and thoughtfully watched her hand rise and fall, tilt and rock with the motion of the wavelets. J.D. blinked back sudden tears.
'We understood that we would not be safe if we agreed.
No one suggested we would not be safe if we refused.'
'I wish I were wrong,' J-D. said. 'But I don't think I am.' She had watched the rising level of paranoia in her own
STARFARERS 51
country. She feared it. And she knew that in the Sweep, the third of the world that was closed and suspicious, the paranoia was even stronger.
One of the orcas spouted suddenly behind her. It articulated a train of clicks that she could both hear as sound and feel as vibration. The other divers nodded and murmured.
'You are correct,' one of the other divers said. 'You have made an observation that is obvious only after it is made.'
'It is true,' Lykos said. 'J.D., please join us. We have the facilities to support your change. You would be welcome with us, and you would be valuable. You might make our survival possible.'
J.D. shook her head. 'I can't.' Water splashed as she rose. 'You don't understand, this is all my fault.'
Lykos and Zev and the other divers gazed at her, bemused, not yet comprehending.
J.D. was afraid to remain, to see, inevitably, the change in the divers' feelings about her. She was afraid to see the look of pain and betrayal in Zev's face when he understood what she had done. And she was perversely angry at the divers for waiting until a crisis to offer their invitation.
She turned and plunged between two orcas, dragged her mask down over her eyes and nose, and hit the boundary between warm spring and frigid sea. She swam into the tide.
Soon she had left the small harbor behind. Every shadow of a ripple through the water startled her, though she knew that the divers would not force her to return against her will.
As she swam she tried to clear her faceplate. Only after she failed did she realize she was crying. She stopped swimming, let herself rise to the surface, and pulled off the mask. It was hard to tread water while she was crying. She struggled to get herself under control. Blinking away the tears, she ducked her face into the water and shook her head.
The droplets she flung away vanished into the fog that still lay flat on the glassy water.
She tried to link up with the web, but the interference remained. Scared, J.D. looked around, hoping rather than fearing to see one of the divers or one of the whales.
She remained alone.
She had failed to find her bearings while swimming with the divers. This time she could not afford to fail.
52 Vonda N. Mcfntyre
If she chose the right direction, she would eventually end up somewhere on the long north coast where her cabin lay. Choosing the right direction was the problem. If she got turned around, no other land lay within her range.
J.D- spat into her mask, swished it around with seawater, emptied it, and put it back on. The air of the artificial lung was the only warmth in the world.
She dove, but remained near the surface. If the fog cleared she wanted to know it immediately.
By the slant of the seafloor and the movement of the water relative to the fog, she chose a direction and set out swimming. Tiny jellyfish passed overhead, bobbing just beneath the interface of air and water.
J.D. swam, refusing to listen to the voice in her mind telling her she needed the web, clear sight, and the help of the divers to find her way anywhere.
Her muscles already ached from the long swim out, from the abuse by enhancer overdose. The lung tired, too, and its air grew cool and thin. She rose to the surface and sidestroked, saving the lung's capacity in case she struck rough water. The darkness of deep water lay beneath her.
The current was a presence that surrounded her. Without
a fixed point she could not tell its direction. It might be strong enough to sweep her completely past the island, no matter which direction she swam.
Her breath came in a sob. The metabolic enhancer reached
its limit, like the artificial lung. Successive doses did nothing
but shoot pain through her exhausted muscles.
When she thought she could not swim another stroke, when she had convinced herself that she was
