Cachalot Read online

  You could live, work, with such a person, she thought, but you could never be his friend. Associate, yes; companion, yes; but not his friend. She decided that somehow, somewhere in the past, a part of his humanity had been killed off.

  "Welcome to Cachalot." The smile did not change. His tone was cordial. Just not warm.

  "I've already told them about the towns, sir," Mataroreva hastened to put in. That eliminated any worry Cora had about whether Sam had said more than he was supposed to. Though why should she care how Hwoshien dealt with their guide? My mind, she told herself angrily, is filling up with extraneous material. Cotton-candy thoughts. She tried to shove aside all considerations except the reason for their presence here and gave her full attention to Hwoshien. That was easy to do. He still had not unbent, remained perpendicular to the center of the planet

  His smile disappeared, was replaced by a neutral expression that was neither grin nor frown but a carefully controlled in-between. But at least he unfolded his arms. He locked his fingers together, gestured with the combination as if praying while he talked. He seemed to have trouble deciding what to do with his limbs.

  "I have very little to add to what Sam has already told you, save that we recently lost another town and several hundreds of citizens to the same unknown cause, with all the grief that implies. On our side of the ledger we have learned nothing new. Our ignorance only justifies my request for outside assistance. I am glad you have finally arrived." Just a hint of irritation showed through the mask.

  "It was suggested by some of our local specialists, after Warmouth was annihilated, that they would eventually identify the cause of all the destruction. I gave them one additional day. I was rewarded only with an elaboration of the possibles that I am sure Sam has already mentioned to you. Any one of them could be correct, or there might be something we have overlooked. Regardless, at that point I was determined to bring in outside help.

  "I do not think," he said casually, indifferent to how his words might affect them personally, "that just because the three of you are new to Cachalot, you are any more intelligent or better versed in such matters than our local experts. Quite the contrary, in fact. But they have all lived here for many years. As I'm sure you are aware, one's approach to problems, one's way of thinking, is often colored by one's environment. I saw no harm in trying a new approach."

  He took a small scent-stick from a pocket, put it between his lips, and ignited it by flicking off the protective tip. It burned cleanly as soon as it came in contact with the air. As he continued speaking he puffed lightly on the stick. Mildly narcotic smoke began to tickle Cora's nose.

  "It is my own personal feeling that your off-world approach will be productive within a month or not at all. Either you will hit on a cause within that time or you will not. Four towns, twenty-five hundred citizens. It's my responsibility to see that no inexplicable fifth disaster occurs. If it must be, I will tolerate a fifth explicable disaster, but a solution must be found—you are all marine biospecialists."

  "That's right." Cora became aware that she had listened to him as a student would a professor. She steadied herself. That was not an accurate reflection of their relationship.

  "I'm sure Sam has already mentioned the theory that intelligent forces could be behind all this?"

  "The possibility was alluded to," Merced admitted.

  "They may be local, they may be off-world," Hwoshien said. "Sam's people are already working on that." Behind him, the huge doors to the sea were beginning to slide downward. The jet engines on the suprafoils were revving up, filling the huge chamber with an ostinato thunder.

  "That is not your concern; though of course, if you find anything indicative of such a cause, you will so inform Sam. Your job is to find out if some as yet unidentified variety of local marine life could be responsible.

  "Being well aware of what certain claimants to the name 'humanity' are capable of, I suspect that our search will lead us eventually to causes of a two-legged nature. As we presently dwell in ignorance, we can ill afford to neglect any possibility.

  "Many of those specialists I mentioned have local tasks they have long neglected to work on this major problem. I cannot insist they continue to do so. Most of them are under contract to the large companies that finance Cachalot's commerce. Those concerns have expressed their wish that their expensive people return to their expensive jobs. I can't require otherwise without declaring martial law." He looked slightly unhappy. "I would rather not do that. The panic that might result could be devastating to business."

  "I would think that the destruction of the floating towns would be a damnsight more devastating," Rachael said indignantly.

  "I'm afraid you don't understand the situation—Ms. Xamantina the younger, isn't it? You see, the floating towns are not owned directly by any of the large companies. They are variously leased, sublet, or otherwise rented to the citizens who live and work on them. In return for supplies and salaries, the bulk of their catches is turned over to the large plants here on Mou-'anui or on the other permanent atoll installations and is credited against a town's general account.

  "So if a town is destroyed," he said easily, as if he were talking only about equipment and structures and not about people, "it is the company that bears the financial loss, not the inhabitants."

  "They only lose their lives," Rachael muttered. But Hwoshien did not hear her, or chose to ignore the comment.

  "Without any huge investment in the towns, the citizens are free to pick up and leave if they so desire. If a major panic arose, the companies would be left with the expensive floating towns, no one to run them, and no raw materials for their equally expensive orbital factories. The repercussions would be felt throughout the Commonwealth. And ordinary citizens would feel the loss of such irreplaceable substances as exene. We simply cannot afford a panic."

  "So you shield the commercial interests involved," Cora commented quietly.

  "As I said, in addition to other things, yes." The Commissioner seemed not the least perturbed by her veiled accusation.

  "Of course," Merced agreed. "Death is a fiscally irresponsible policy."

  Chapter V

  Hwoshien looked over at the little scientist, finally replied in a different tone, a touch less formal than the one he had been employing thus far.

  "I had friends on those lost towns myself. Kindly keep in mind that I'm in a very difficult personal position here. I do not expect you to sympathize. I do expect you to understand. I am trapped between the average citizen, who cares nothing as long as he or she is protected, and the commercial interests, which don't care what happens as long as the flow of produce is not interrupted. In addition, I am responsible first to a third party, the Commonwealth government itself.

  "My sympathies lie with the first group, my thoughts with the second, and my allegiance with the last. This is a problem none of you must face. You will have everything in the way of material assistance you request, though I would ask you to be circumspect. Large, new concentrations of scientific instrumentation could attract the attention of our as yet hypothetical human killers.

  "You will have complete working freedom. I sincerely hope you won't disappoint me."

  Despite his formality, a formality that bordered on hostility, Cora found herself wanting to please Hwoshien. He inspired in others the desire to please him, as one would try to please a distant but concerned parent.

  Could he be a mechanism, a robot? On rare occasions the Commonwealth was known to make such substitutions for organic personnel. No, she decided. He could not be a machine. A robot assigned to such a position already would have displayed far more warmth and affection. Hwoshien was too mechanical to be mechanical.

  "We'll do our best." Rachael was becoming irritable, and it showed in her tone. Cora knew that her daughter was unable to remain interested in anything besides her neurophon for anything longer than half an hour at a time.

  Hwoshien gazed at her a moment, then turned sharply and gestured
them to follow. "Come over here."

  Cora and the others followed him towards the docks. He walks like a thranx, she reflected. Stiffly and from the joints.

  The doors had stopped descending, leaving a three-meter gap between floor and door bottom. They mounted a slight rampway. Then they were standing on the edge of a brown wall of burnished duralloy against which the waves beat ceaselessly. The supra-foils had long since departed, their faint whines swallowed by distance.

  Hwoshien put his left foot up on the low flange that edged the dock, his left hand on his hip, and pointed with his right.

  "Look out there, visitors." His finger traced the horizon. "Stretch your eyes. Travel any direction you choose and you will likely circumnavigate this world without ever seeing land. Cachalot's land lies beneath its waters, beneath a fluid, unstable atmosphere we have only just begun to understand. Man is still more at home in interstellar space than in the medium of his birth.

  "This is home to the creatures that have evolved here, home also to the cetacean settlers, but it can never be that to those of us here on Mou'anui or to those out on the floating towns. We live here on sufferance. For all that we staggered out of the seas of Earth, they are still only places that we visit." He stepped off the flange, stared hard at each of them in turn.

  "Thirty-six years I've lived on Cachalot. Still I feel like an alien. I am comfortable in my living arrangements, secure in my chosen profession. Were I not, I would never have been appointed Resident Commissioner. But at 'home'?" He shook his head, a small, controlled movement. "That is something I can never be. Though there are those who claim to feel otherwise. They say I do not think in the 'Cachalot' manner. Sam here is one."

  The officer looked uncomfortable.

  "That's all right, Sam. In no way am I being critical of you. You know what I mean."

  Mataroreva nodded. Again Cora had that sugary sensation in her brain that something very important was being said, and she could not understand.

  "Even Sam cannot be at home here. He can only try to be."

  "Respectfully, sir, I do feel at home here."

  "I know." Something shifted in Hwoshien's head and he was suddenly downright cordial. "I know how tired you must be. Would you join me for dinner tonight, please? We're very informal about such things here. We can talk further then. You'll have an opportunity to sample the unique cuisine of our kitchen… we sometimes even use human chefs to prepare our food. Again, I apologize for rushing you so abruptly from your long journey to this meeting, but I wanted everything spelled out quickly… and to meet you myself."

  "We'd be happy to join you," Cora said. "Anything—as long as we can shower first."

  "Of course. Surely the humidity is no worse than you expected?"

  "I think we're all prepared for everything we might encounter," she said significantly.

  "Good. At nineteen hundred, then?" He added a last comment that was so atypical, Cora had to reassure herself that he had actually spoken. "It will be a distinct pleasure to work with two such beautiful ladies."

  The cafeteria-style dining area was separate from their quarters. Sam had to escort the three newcomers from their rooms. He and the two women waited in the small lobby for Merced, who arrived late, puffing slightly, tucking his net shirt into his shorts.

  Cora wore a drape-weave that swirled around her body from right shoulder to left calf in alternating rows of fluorescent pink and yellow, dotted with deadcolor black flowers. Maybe everyone else on this world dressed informally when they ate together, but she still retained a number of civilized virtues. Besides, this would probably be the last time she would be able to dress decently before they got out into the field.

  Rachael had opted for a seemingly simpler summer drape, in pale green. The simplicity was deceptive. Several fish were inlaid in silver thread along the hem. They breathed bubbles that appeared to flow up the dress. At certain wavelengths, depending on the illumination, the sizable bubbles were transparent. The motile peekaboo effect that resulted turned a number of heads as they entered the mess.

  One corner was deserted save for Hwoshien. He wore the same stiff, utilitarian dark suit he had worn earlier in the day. Cora looked at his chest for the expected crimson insignia of a Commissioner. There wasn't one. His lack of pretentiousness is the most humanizing thing about him, she mused.

  There was some small talk and some absolutely magnificent local food. Mataroreva had managed to slip quickly into the chair next to Cora. Merced and Rachael sat on the other side. Occasionally Merced would lean over and hesitantly whisper something to her and she would giggle. Then he would turn rapidly away, as if embarrassed by his own temerity in talking to her, and shovel his food.

  The interchanges troubled Cora, but she was too busy talking with Hwoshien to pay much attention. Not that she could have done anything to prevent Them.

  "What would human agents have to gain by destroying the towns?" she asked. "Surely you must have some suspects?"

  "Were that only the case." Hwoshien caressed his tall drinking glass. "Cachalot's oceans hold many riches. You saw a tiny sample of them today. Some small, independent operators would be happy to see their better-organized competition obliterated.

  "For example, there are the people of the ships. They live and work on old-fashioned ocean-going boats. Not suprafoils, but real ships in the ancient floating sense. They own their vessels, unlike the people of the towns, who only lease their homes and equipment from the larger companies. They also refine some of their own produce right on board.

  "The quantity is small, but it still cuts into the profits of the large concerns by bypassing the expensive orbital factories. So there has always been dislike between the people of the ships and the citizens who inhabit the floating towns."

  Cora speared a forkful of a delicate white meat, chewed as she spoke. "Wouldn't they be easily discovered? Wouldn't a sudden rise in some ship's production be noticed?"

  Mataroreva shook his head. "They don't have to ship off-world via Mou'anui or any of the other atoll bases. A shuttle could put down anywhere on Cachalot and take off fully loaded with refined goods or raw materials."

  "Expensive," Hwoshien commented, "but with the produce and booty of an entire town to pay for it, such an operation would be immediately profitable. Eliminating the populations involved would be the best way of covering such piracy.

  "Economically it is feasible. One would think the inherent danger would override such potential profits, but there are people who do not think such things through very clearly, to whom murder and destruction require little in the way of rationalization.

  "Actually, we have been questioning the ship folk intensively. But you must understand that the existing rivalry precludes our making any overt accusations without irrefutable facts to back them up. We can't afford to alienate a large segment of the populace by accusing it of something none of its number may be responsible for. Off-world agencies may be involved. The AAnn, for instance, would enjoy watching and abetting chaos on any Commonwealth world.

  "But as I have said, that is not your problem. Specify what equipment you wish, and Sam will have it drawn from government stores or billed to the local Commonwealth account. The question of personal financial recompense was settled, I believe, prior to your departure for Cachalot."

  "You say you want to try to keep our purpose here a secret?" Rachael asked.

  "You will be treated as visiting specialists engaged in typical commercial exploration. Escorts for such visitors are not uncommon, so Sam's presence among you should not be remarked on." He stared down at his plate. "This destruction must stop. It is bad for living, and bad for business."

  They ate on in silence, finished with a dessert that Mataroreva informed them had been produced from the jellied insides of a round creature about the size of his fist. The substance was coated with poisonous spines and had to be properly treated prior to serving or it could kill instantly. The treatment was effective, however, and there were no known dea
ths attributable to consumption of the delicacy. If he was trying to tease Cora, he had picked the wrong person. She had eaten far more bizarre products from several oceans. The transparent gelatin was cool and had a flavor like pomegranate.

  The graphic description made Rachael queasy, though. Cora finished her daughter's plate as well as her own. She was just downing the last spoonful of her second helping when Merced asked quietly, "What about the whales?"

  - "What about the whales, Mr. Merced?" Hwoshien was puffing contentedly on another scent-stick.

  "They're intelligent, they have no love of mankind. Couldn't they destroy a town?"

  "Sure they could," Mataroreva yelled, "but why should they!" Aware of the effect of his violent reaction on Cora and Rachael, he lapsed into his usual boyish tone. But what the announcement of his profession had begun, his unexpected violence concluded. For better or worse, the mantle of innocence Cora had bestowed on him had vanished forever.

  "They could," he said more calmly, "if they had a reason to, and if they could organize sufficiently. Remember that every floating town is protected against inimical local life-forms. Each has sophisticated warning systems and large underwater needlers which operate automatically in tandem when anything comes too close.

  "There are leviathans in Cachalot's ocean larger than the largest whale that ever lived. The town needlers are quite capable of frying even a mallost.

  "What's a mallost?"

  "Something I hope you never see, Rachael." Hwoshien answered with such intensity that she subsided. "As Sam says, one could make short work of a whale, but it couldn't get within tentacle-throwing range of even a small town.

  "A whole pod of whales working in perfect unison might destroy a town, but they do not think that way. For one thing, nothing like competition exists between the cetaceans and the towns. By and large, the townspeople are after varieties of local life the whales have no interest in. The plankton the towns take and strain for a few types doesn't make a dent in the cope-pod population. There is more plankton on this world than a million times as many baleen whales could ever consume. The baleens are the largest of the Cetacea, and also the dumbest. The toothed whales, which are more capable of considering such an attack, don't eat plankton."