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. His 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!'
'Where are they now?' Takkata-Jim demanded.
'Bassskin entered the main bay, with Wattaceti. Hiss-kaa is off, spreading rumorsss throughout the ship. Keepiru took a sled and breathers and is gone!'
'Gone where?'
'Back-k-k out-t-t!' Suppeh wailed. His command of Anglic was rapidly dissolving. Takkata-Jim took advantage of what composure the purser had left.
'Have Heurka-pete awaken Doctor Metz. Have Metz meet me at sick bay with three guards. You are to go to the dry-wheel dressing room, with Sawtoot, and let-t no one enter! Understood?'
Suppeh nodded vigorously, and his image vanished.
Takkata-Jim prayed that Heurka-pete would have the sense to recall Moki and Haoke and send them after Keepiru. Together, between Haoke's brains and Moki's feral ruthlessness, they might be able to cut the pilot off before he reached the Thennanin wreck.
Why isn't K'tha-Jon back yet? I chose him to go after that middie in order to get him out of the ship for a while. I was afraid he was becoming dangerous even to me. I wanted some time to organize without him around. But now the Baskin woman's returned sooner than I expected. Maybe I should have kept K'tha-Jon around. The giant's talents might be useful about now.
Takkata-Jim whistled the door open and swam out into the hall. He faced a confrontation he had hoped to put off for at least another forty hours, if not indefinitely.
Should I have seen to Creideiki before this? It would have been easy… a power failure in his gravity tank, a switched catheter… Metz would not approve, but there was already much of which Metz did not know. Much that Takkata-Jim wished he didn't know.
He swam hard for the intrahull lift.
Maybe I won't need K'tha-Jon in order to deal with Gillian Baskin, he thought. After all, what can one human female do?
49 ::: The Psi-Bomb
The mound of partly dried weeds formed a dome on the sea of vines. Tom had propped up a low roof using salvaged bits of strutting from his sledge, making a rude cave. He sat in the entrance, waiting in the pre-dawn dimness, and munched on one of his scarce foodbars.
His wounds were cleaned as well as possible, and coated with hardening dabs of medicinal foam. With food in his stomach and some of the pain put down, he
