Humanx - Cachalot Part 20

"Wait! I didn't mean ..."

She took off the headset, explained to Sam what had happened. "I've offended them, haven't I? Are they sorry because they have no such stories?"

"Oh, they remember." He spoke very quietly.

"Many of them hold the stories sent down through the generations raised on this world. They have no me- chanical memories, but those huge brains of theirs can retain much more than we can. It just bothers them to have to do the remembering.

"Earth is remembered as a paradise, you see. Un- til the rise of 'intelligence' among men. Then paradise was transformed into purgatory."

"I know the history of ancient whaling." She found the word hard to p.r.o.nounce. "I would have thought all that had been-"

"Forgotten by now?" he finished for her. "I just told you, they don't forget. There are scattered citizens of the Commonwealth who trace their ethnic ancestry back to a people known as the Jews. They have a par-

88 CACHALOT.

ticular abhorrence, I understand, for a period of Terran history known as the midtwentieth, old calen- dar. A thing called the Holocaust in the old records.

The cetaceans know of it. Their own holocaust over- lapped that same period, though it lasted far longer.

For centuries. They regard the gift of Cachalot as mankind's attempt at an apologia for that time."

She looked stricken.

"They're not offended by your asking. Don't look so distraught, Cora. They simply prefer not to talk about it. Earth isn't their true home any more, though some cetaceans still exist there. Cachalot is their world now.

"But I'm sure they'll appreciate it if you don't men- tion it again."

VII.

A.

beeper sounded from the bridge. He put aside the book and moved to investigate. She joined him, studied the instrumentation professionally.

"Reef?"

"No, porpoises. They're not quite paralleling us, should cut our course in a little while. Maybe they'll stay with us for a bit."

"Won't Wenkoseemansa and Latehoht scare them on?"

He smiled, tried not to sound patronizing. "Didn't you study anything before coming here?"

"There's practically nothing on intercetacean rela- tions.h.i.+ps," she countered testily. "You know that. I didn't have the advantage of being raised with them."

"Hey, easy-they don't hunt each other any more.

With all the food available on this world, the orcas don't bother with blood relatives. Even if all the local life vanished, I think Wenkoseemansa and Latehoht would starve to death before eating a cousin." He studied the small screen nearby. "Call your daughter and Pucara. It's a fair-sized school. They should enjoy the sight."

Merced had been reading below decks, in his cabin.

He joined the other three at the starboard railing.

Rachael cradled her neurophon, hoping perhaps for melodic inspiration.

89.

90 CACHALOT.

At first only tiny glints could be made out here and there, sun sparkling off thrown water or gray backs. The reflections became brighter and more fre- quent, resolved themselves eventually into slim shapes.

Then they were surrounded, engulfed by lean, per- petually grinning gray forms that broke the water in repeated leaps of breathtaking symmetry. Wenkosee- mansa and Latehoht remained close to the hull.

"Thousands, there must be thousands of them!"

Rachael finally gasped into the awed silence.The sea was alive around the suprafoil, from horizon to hori- zon.

"No one can say how many thousands," Mataroreva agreed. "Ten, twenty-herds of thirty and more have been reported by aerial transports. The porpoises have done well on Cachalot, too." He was slipping on his headset, and now Cora had to rush below to locate her own. /

"Want to talk to them?" he asked when she had re- joined him at the rail.

"I-I don't know. How do you pick one out?"

"You don't. Just switch on and shout 'Howdy.' "

She adjusted her speaker, called aloud, "Greetings to the gray friends of man!"

"Greetings-h.e.l.lo-how are you-good day- cheers!-" Her earphones rang as the barrage of re- plies nearly overloaded the headset. There was also a great deal of whistling and piping that came through unaltered. She fiddled with the tuner, but the sounds did not resolve into words.

"I'm getting something that's not being translated."

Sam described it back to her, nodded. "There's no way to translate it," he told her amusedly. "It's laugh- ter."

"Foolishh wasteful of time!" Latehoht muttered.

"Foolish wasteful of life," Wenkoseemansa added.

"Just because they no longer hunt porpoises doesn't

91.

mean they've become particularly fond of them," Sam noted.

"Why not?" Cora had given up trying to estimate the size of the herd. "They're close relatives." She leaned over the railing. "Why don't you like the gray ones?"

"Flighty, silly, useless creatures!" Latehoht re- plied at the top of a jump.

"No direction ... no purpose," Wenkoseemansa agreed. "Their lives are all frivolity and playy. They think not seriously on any matterr. They knoww only howw to enjoy themselves and fritter away their living- time."

"That's not so bad."

"Are there menn who do that wayy?" Latehoht sounded curious.

"Some," Cora admitted.

Without slowing, the female orca indicated her dis- pleasure by slapping angrily at the surface with her tail flukes. She came up, inquired, "Whatt think you of such of your own people?"

"Yes, of your owwn people, what do you thinkk?"

her mate wondered.

Cora hesitated a moment, then smiled as she told them, "I think they're lazy, frivolous, and useless!"