* That must be — the last obstruction
* I shall go then -
carefully,
testing -
* Dennie, take the sled — and watch me! *
Before Keepiru or Toshio could stop him, Sah'ot was off his sled and away. He fluked mightily and disappeared into the shaft. Keepiru and Toshio looked at each other, sharing a malign thought about crazy civilians.
At least, Toshio thought, he could have taken a camera with him! But then, if Sah'ot had waited, Toshio would have had a chance to insist on the dubious privilege of scouting the passage.
He looked at Dennie. She watched the robot probe screen, as if it might deliver some token about what was happening to Sah'ot. She had to be reminded, before she swam over and took control of the other sled.
Toshio had always thought of Dennie Sudman as one more adult scientist, friendly but enigmatic. Now he saw that she was not an awful lot more mature than he. And while she had the honor and status of a full professional, she lacked the eclecticism his officer training was giving him. She would never encounter the range of people, things, and situations he would, in the course of his career.
He looked again to the shaft entrance. Keepiru blew nervous bubbles. They would have to decide soon what to do if Sah'ot did not reappear.
Sah'ot was obviously a genetic experiment, in which the gene-crafters were pushing a set of traits toward a calculated optimum. If judged successful, the traits would be grafted back into the main pool of the neo-dolphin species. The process imitated, on a vastly quicker scale, the segregation and mixing that worked in nature.
Such experiments sometimes resulted in things not planned, though.
Toshio wasn't sure he trusted Sah'ot. The fin's obscurity wasn't like the inscrutability of Creideiki- — deep and thoughtful. It grated, like the dissembling of some humans he had known.
Also, there was this sexual game between Sah'ot and Dennie. Not that he was a prude. Such hobbies weren't exactly forbidden, but they had been known to cause problems.
Apparently Dennie wasn't even aware of the subtle ways in which she was encouraging Sah'ot. Toshio wondered if he had the nerve to tell her — or if it was any of his business.
Another tense minute passed. Then, just as Toshio was about to go himself, Sah'ot shot down out of the shaft and swooped toward them.
* The way is clear -
I'll lead you airward! *
Keepiru jetted his sled over to the dolphin anthropologist, and squawked something pitched so high that Toshio couldn't quite catch it, even with his Calafian sensitivity.
Sah'ot's mouth twisted and closed into a reluctant attitude of submission. Still, there was something defiant in his eye. He cast a look at Dennie, even as he rolled over to offer one of his ventral fins to Keepiru's mouth.
The pilot took a token nip, then turned back to the others.
* The way is clear -
I do believe him
* Now let us go -
and drop these breathers
* To talk like Earthmen -
about our work
* And to meet our future -
pilot brothers *
The sled moved under the drill-tree shaft, then rose in a cloud of bubbles. The others followed.
22 ::: Creideiki
The briefing had gone on far too long.
Creideiki regretted ever letting Charles Dart attend via holoscreen. The chimp planetologist would certainly have been less long-winded if he were here in the fizzing oxywater of the central bay, wet and wearing a facemask.
Dart lounged in his own laboratory, projecting his image to the conference area in Streaker's cylindrical bay. He seemed oblivious to the chafing of his listeners. Breathing oxywater in front of a console for two hours was highly uncomfortable to a neo-fin.
'Naturally, Captain,' the chimp's scratchy baritone projected into the water. 'When you chose to land us near a major tectonic boundary, I approved wholeheartedly. Nowhere else could I have had access to so much information in one spot. Still, I think I've made a convincing case for six or seven more sampling sites distributed about Kithrup, to verify some of the extremely interesting discoveries we've made here.'
Creideiki was mildly surprised at the use of the first person plural. It was the first modest thing Charlie had said.
He glanced at Brookida, floating nearby. The metallurgist had been working with Charles Dart, his skills not currently required by the repair team. He had been largely silent for the last hour, letting the chimp pour out a tide of technical jargon which had left Creideiki dizzy.
What's the matter with Brookida? Does he think a captain under siege has nothing better to do?
Hikahi, recently released from sick bay, rolled over on her back, breathing the fizzing, oxygenated fluid and keeping one eye to the hologram of the chimpanzee.
She shouldn't do that, Creideiki thought. I'm having enough trouble concentrating as it is.
A lengthy, constricting meeting always did this to Creideiki. He felt a stirring of blood in and around his penile sheath. What he wanted to do was swim over to Hikahi and bite her softly in numerous places, up and down her flanks.
Kinky, yes, especially in public, but at least he was honest with himself.
'Planetologist Dart,' he sighed. 'I am trying very hard to understand what you claim to have discovered. The part about various crystalline and isotopic anomalies below the crust of Kithrup I think I follow. As for the subduction layer…'
'A subduction zone is a boundary of two crustal plates, where one slips below its neighbor,' Charlie interrupted.
Creideiki wished he could let down his dignity to curse at the chimp. 'I do know that much planetology, Dr. Dart.' He spoke carefully. 'And I'm glad our being near one of these plate boundaries has been useful to you. However, you mussst understand that our choice of a landing site was based on matters tactical. We want both the metals and the camouflage offered by the 'coral' mounds. We landed here in order to hide, and to repair our ship. With hostile cruisers overhead, I can't think of permitting expeditions to other parts of the globe. In fact, I must refuse your request for further drilling at this location. The risk is too great, now that the Galactics have arrived.'
The chimp frowned. His hands began to flutter. Before he found the words, Creideiki cut him off:
'Besides, what does the ship's micro-branch say about Kithrup? Doesn't the Library contribute anything on these problems you face?'
'The Library!' Dart snorted. 'That pack of lies! That friggin' morass of misinformation!' Charlie's voice dropped into a growl. 'It has nothin' on the anomalies! It doesn't even mention the metal-mounds! The last survey was done over four hundred million years ago, when the planet was put on reserve status for the Karrank% …'
Charlie became so strangled around the extended glottal stop that he started to choke. He went bug-eyed and pounded himself on the chest, coughing.
Creideiki turned to Brookida. 'Is this true? Is the Library so deficient in regard to this planet?'
'Yess-s,' Brookida nodded slowly. 'Four hundred epochs is a long time. When a planet is placed on reserve it's usually either to let it lie fallow while new species evolve to a level of pre-sentience ripe for uplift, or to provide a quiet place of decline for an ancient race that has entered senescence. Planets are placed off limits either to become nurseries or old age homes.
'Both seem to have occurred on Kithrup-p. We have discovered a ripe pre-sentient race which has apparently risen since the last Library update here. Also, the… Karrank-k%…' Brookida, too, had trouble with the name. '… were granted the planet as a peaceful place to die, which they apparently have done. There seem to be no Karrank%-%… anymore.'
'But four hundred epochs without a re-survey?' It was difficult to imagine.
'Yes, a planet is usually re-licensed by the Institute of Migration long before that. Still, Kithrup is such a strange world… few species would choose to live here. Also, good access routes are scarce. This region of space is gravitationally very shallow. It'sss one reason we came here.'
Charles Dart was still catching his breath. He drank from a tall glass of water. During the respite, Creideiki lay still, thinking. Despite Brookida's points, would Kithrup really have been left fallow for so long, in an overcrowded galaxy where every piece of real estate was desired?
The Institute of Migration was the only one of the loose Galactic bureaucracies whose power and influence rivaled even that of the Library Institute. By tradition, all patron-lines obeyed its codes of ecosphere management; to do otherwise courted galaxy-wide disaster. The potential of lesser species to one day become clients,
