Humanx - Cachalot Part 41

Dawn?"

"Those are vacuum cylinders." Her voice was low,

almost trembling. "They would hold fragrance extracts

and spices: town cargo."

Mataroreva glanced over at Cora. "Do you think they're salvaging that stuff to put the proceeds of sale into an account benefiting surviving relatives of Vai- 'oire's dead? Or maybe to raise a memorial to them?

Look how fast they're working! They're pus.h.i.+ng them- selves to finish before the first official observers arrive.

175.

"It makes sense now. Our first guess was right. We suspected either whales or men, but not both function- ing in tandem. Somehow these people are controlling the cetaceans. I can't believe the whales are working for them of their own free will. They have nothing to gain.

"First the whales, their activities somehow coordi- nated by these vultures, destroy a town. Then their human Svengalis rush in and rake up anything of value. If anyone happened to stumble in when a town was under attack and get safely away, the cetaceans would get the blame."

"I can't imagine," Cora muttered, "how anyone could control and direct a large group of cetaceans like that."

"Neither do L But I will find out."

"What do we do now?" Rachael asked.

Mataroreva continued to study the busy operation.

"There appear to be about twenty crew per s.h.i.+p.

Many of them are diving. Maybe we can take one of the s.h.i.+ps. Even if we can't get away, possibly one of us might make it to the s.h.i.+p's transmitter. We could at least explain what's been happening. That would doubly alert all the .other towns. Might even frighten these people off. We have one advantage anyway."

"I'd trade all our advantages for a beamer," Mer- ced murmured, his right hand tightening around an invisible one.

"We know the reef," their guide continued. "We've been swimming over and through it for days. We'll head for the nearest foil at dusk. In the dark, we'll glow just like those pirates. They'll still be diving after the sun goes down, as anxious as they must be to fin- ish up and clear out of here. If we can just get on deck before someone raises the alarm, we should at least have a good chance at their transmitter."

"I'm for the transmitter." Dawn looked eagerly at the nearest bobbing vessel. "I know communications.

176 CACHALOT.

I bet I can get off a signal faster than any of you. In

the dark, if need be."

"Sounds good. We'll take the boarding ladder the last diver uses. I'm up first."

"No. Let me go."

Mataroreva stared in surprise at the soft-voiced

Merced.

The little scientist continued with gentle relentless- ness. "They may not have any oversized specimens in their crews," he explained. "Your suit glow will be the same, .but your ma.s.s will not. I'm more normally built and less likely to be noticed than any of you. Also less intimidating."

Mataroreva considered, then nodded slowly. "You make good sense. Now, what about weapons? We can't chance jumping one of their divers. They'll prob- ably work in pairs or trios, and one would be sure to sound a warning."

"There are some blue echinoderms on the bottom,"

Cora suggested. "They have three to five large pois- onous spines. We can break them off at the base. The spines are pretty tough. Even if their toxicity fades after separation, they'll make serviceable knives."

Mataroreva smiled thinly at her. "I didn't think you'd notice such bloodthirsty details."

"Part of my job. And I'm not bloodthirsty. I'm

mad."

An orange sun hung just above the water, fire bal- ancing on a sheet of silvered clay, when they started toward the nearest foil. Mataroreva and Merced led the underwater procession. All eyes turned anxiously, seeking the telltale glow of another approaching diver.

None came near.

They could not know how many of the crew re- mained aboard, but the craft offered little room in which to hide. Each was built for speed, with only a single modest forward cabin. Most of the area was open rear deck and cargo hold.

177.

Two boarding ladders dipped like straws info the water on either side of the s.h.i.+p, one forward and one astern. The swimmers intended to mount the forward ladder, nearest the central cabin and the transmitter.

That would also keep them away from the region of greatest activity near the stem, where salvage was be- ing loaded.

Each of them carried a twenty-centimeter-long blue spine, four-sided, taken from an unlucky bottom- dweller. The spines would not stand repeated use.

Mataroreva felt that if each spine found a throat, it would more than have served its purpose.

He articulated that desire at every opportunity, run- ning his hand along the sides of his own weapon and making repeated stabbing gestures as they swam. Cora couldn't share his l.u.s.t for killing, despite the ghastly crime that had been committed here. But she was quite prepared to wound.

They reached the hull of the suprafoil without a challenge, hovered beneath its bow. Gestures served in place of words. Merced moved upward and grabbed the bottom rung of the fore port ladder. Still there was no challenge.

As soon as he was clear of the water he removed his suit fins, but did not drop them. If he appeared on deck without them, he would attract immediate at- tention, whereas if he acted and looked like a normal diver, he might escape curiosity for a precious second or two longer. It was possible the divers on one boat kney those on the other only casually. And it was dark.

A minute pa.s.sed while those remaining in the wa- ter waited nervously. Then Merced reappeared, lean- ing over the side and gesturing frantically. Mataroreva started up the ladder. Cora was right behind him, fol- lowed by Dawn and Rachael.

Then they were all standing on deck alongside the

178.

CACHALOT.

CACHALOT.

179.

only cabin. Lights glowed from within. They were not interrupted by moving shapes.

The only sign of habitation was a limp figure on the deck at their feet. Its head was twisted around at an unnatural angle and blood trickled lazily from the gaping mouth. Merced's spine-knife was unstained.

Mataroreva glanced curiously from the corpse to

Merced.

"I broke his neck. The opportunity presented it- self," the smaller man whispered. Then he turned and moved on, crouching like a spider.