Humanx - Cachalot Part 19

anything goes wrong, the s.h.i.+p will stop. If nothing stops, there's no reason for me to hover over the in- struments. You're still thinking in terms of the oceans of more developed worlds.

"There isn't an island or reef within kilometers. This section of sea, this close to Mou'anui, has been fairly well mapped. The chance of our encountering another s.h.i.+p, let alone running into one, is about one in several million. A true pa.s.senger pa.s.sages and lets his s.h.i.+p take care of itself. That's what it's designed to do. In the unlikely event we do encounter something, it will warn us in plenty of time. You don't think any vessel as smart as this one is going to bash itself up simply because it has a few dumb humans aboard, do you?"

"Okay-let up on me, will you?"

Several high whistles and squeaks joined the conver- sation. She looked to starboard. Sam put down his book, frowned intently. "That's Latehoht. She's talk- ing to you."

"How do you know, and why to me?"

"I know a little orca. As to the second"-he smiled at her-"ask her yourself. You'll need your headset.

And hurry." He glanced upward. "Soon it will be hot noon and they'll slide beneath the s.h.i.+p. They like to travel in the shade of the hull."

She started to leave. "It's down in my cabin. I'll go get it."

"Never mind. Use mine." He pointed.

She located the translator unit, donned it, and ad- justed the controls. Then she was leaning over the side and shouting, "Good morning."

"Haill and good hunttingg, grreetings to thhe sssun!" the joyful response came. For an instant the magnificently streamlined black and white body disap- peared, only to break the surface seconds later. "A ggood dayy to beee aliwe, to swwim and to eatt and to thhinkkkk."

"Haill and morrrning," a slightly deeper echo

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sounded. Wenkoseemansa greeted her nearby. Cora noted that when traveling, one had to adopt a pause- and-wait style of conversation to match the whales arcing in and out of the water. But the male did not

reappear.

"What's wrong with Wenkoseemansa?" Cora asked Sam, moving the headset pickup aside so the unit would not translate her question into orca. "Doesn't

he like me?"

"What makes you think Latehoht likes you?" he teased. "Don't mind Wenkoseemansa. He's the strong,

silent type."

"Awwwoman, off anothher wworrrld!" a new cry

sounded. Cora turned her attention back to the wa- ters. From her position high on the overdeck she could see the entire powerful body. It cut through the water like a s.h.i.+p through vacuum, sometimes playing only centimeters from the sharp, flexible metal of the fore starboard foil.

"Lissten to a tale, lissten to a tale!"

Wenkoseemansa reappeared but did not speak. He cut under his more loquacious mate, raced just ahead of the dangerous foil, and let it kiss his tail flukes.

"I could listen to you all day," Cora replied hon- estly.

"Nottt sso longg," Latehoht corrected her quickly.

Cora heard a noise, raised her earphones, and heard in terranglo, "The translator has a difficult time with metaphors," Sam was telling her. "Try to be as literal as possible, even if Latehoht is not. And pay attention, or you'll miss something good." He turned onto his side, his huge stomach s.h.i.+fting to cover completely the instrument belt encircling his waist.

"Latehoht's a fine storyteller. Orcas love to tell stories. They all think they're poets. Sometimes I think they stay around men just to have someone new to listen to them. So be a good audience."

With pauses while she was beneath the surface,

85.

Latehoht proceeded to tell the story of Poleetat, an ancestral orca and one of the first to reach Cachalot.

It seemed that Poleetat, in exploring his new home, encountered a megalichthyian, one of the largest crea- tures inhabiting Cachalot's ocean. The megalichthyian was four tunes Poleetat's ma.s.s. Its teeth were sharp and small and many, and it boasted an enormous sin- gle tusk protruding from its lower jaw like a sword.

Unlike some of the younger orcas, Poleetat did not try to bite the megalichthyian. Instead, it remained out of range of that murderous, sharp-edged tusk and harried its wielder, teased and tired and tempted it.

All the while the furious megalichthyian, which had already killed or severely wounded several less circ.u.m- spect orcas, slashed and thrust at its tormentor.

Eventually, all the other orcas either had been wounded or had fled in confusion, not knowing how to deal with this alien enemy. And this was no ordinary megalichthyian, Latehoht explained, but an enchanted one. It would not tire or give up the fight.

Yet Poleetat, though his strength waned, refused to flee or pause to eat lest this dangerous monster harm others of the pod. So they dueled a dance of death, the enchanted megalichthyian twisting and stabbing, having only to make a single strike with its great tusk to kill, while Poleetat spiraled and spun around the great spotted brown bulk, snapping at its fins and tail and trying to get in a bite at one of the monster's several eyes.

They danced their way all around the world, changed direction, and fought from pole to pole, fight- ing even beneath the ice packs. Still the megalichthy- ian did not tire. But Poleetat, though the strongest of the orcas, was nearing the end of his strength and saw that something radically new in the way of fighting would be needed to end this war.

So he faked exhaustion, letting the spear of his op- ponent pa.s.s close, so close to his belly that blood was

86 CACHALOT.

drawn. Then he turned to swim limply away. Smell- ing death and triumph, the megalichthyian rushed in pursuit, growing nearer and nearer, ready to run Poleetat through from fluke to nose.

With his apparent last bit of strength Poleetat gave a final burst of speed and soared out of the water as if to escape. Contemptuously the megalichthyian fol- lowed.

Ah, but Poleetat had judged well his distance. He shot through the air and pa.s.sed over the thick ice, to land an incredible distance away-and drop cleanly through the far hole he had perceived.

But the megalichthyian could no more fit through that comparatively tiny hole than the waltzing sea worms of the lagoon floors could slip through the breathing duct of a clam. It landed hard on the ice pack, which cracked slightly but did not give.

It lay flopping there, helpless beneath the pressure of its own great weight. Poleetat swam back up to the open sea, stuck his head out of the water to inspect his beached enemy. The convulsions faded and the mon- ster soon died, for it could not breathe air, as could orcas and men.

With his remaining strength the dying Poleetat sum- moned orcas from wherever they had scattered to, and told them they could swim safely with their calves now, for this particularly dangerous enemy had been van- quished. Then he died, and there was much mourning in the sea that day. The orcas managed to grasp the tail of the megalichthyian where it lay on the edge of the ice. They pulled it back into the sea and feasted on it for days, and made this song-story so that Po- leetat would not remain dead, but would be ever re- born in the tales parents tell to their calves on the long hunts for food.

"That's a wonderful story," Cora finally told her.

"There's an incredibly ancient human tale similar to it, involving a man named Hercules and a wrestler named

87.

Antaeus, who lost his strength when he was held away from his mother, the Earth, the solid ground."

"You'll have to tell me the tale sometimme," Late- hoht said.

"Yes!" Wenkoseemansa might not talk, but he ap- parently listened well. "Sometimme you will have to tell uss the story and we will listen, will listenn." He sounded interested now.

"Don't you have any stories remembered from tunes before you came to Cachalot?" Cora asked. "Times andstories from Earth, from Terra?"

"Tales from the past," Latehoht murmured. "Tales from the time of mourning."

"We do nott go back to the pasts," Wenkoseemansa said sternly. "To the times of troubles, to the timmes of terror." He sounded upset. "We go noww to the place of recent pa.s.sing of mean." In tandem they shot forward past the bow.