Cachalot Read online

  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 mention it again."

  Chapter 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 off?"

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

  "There's practically nothing on intercetacean relationships," 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.

  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 frequent, resolved themselves eventually into slim shapes.

  Then they were surrounded, engulfed by lean, perpetually grinning gray forms that broke the water in repeated leaps of breathtaking symmetry. Wenkoseemansa 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 horizon.

  "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 rejoined 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—hello—how are you—good day— cheers!—" Her earphones rang as the barrage of replies 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 laughter."

  "Foolishh wasteful of time!" Latehoht muttered.

  "Foolish wasteful of life," Wenkoseemansa added.

  "Just because they no longer hunt poipaises doesn't 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 replied 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 displeasure 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!"

  At that the two orcas commenced to spiral about a common axis as they continued to parallel the Caribe, as if rifling an unseen gun barrel.

  "Ah, she sees wisdomm, this she!" Wenkoseemansa said.

  "The wisdom she sees," Latehoht added. "In manyy ways are orca and man truly closerr to each other than orca and porpoise."

  Twenty-five minutes went by before the enormous herd of flashing, silver-sided animals passed from view to the northeast of the cruising suprafoil.

  "I thought porpoises were supposed to be as smart as orcas." Rachael was still composing a silent song to the departed herd.

  "They are," her mother told her. "Almost. They didn't try to talk to us, though."

  'Too busy having fun," Sam told her. "You can argue with that kind of lotus-eating existence, as do the orcas, but there's much to be said for it. They love to perform tricks on us poor air-bound humans. Hereditary delight of theirs, I'm told. Handed—or finned— down from their domesticated ancestors.

  "I was called outside Mou'anui one day by a harried local guide. Seems a small herd of porps had joined his tourist party and wouldn't let any of them out of the water. They were pushing them around like toys, but the tourists didn't know what was going on, and some of them were panicking.

  "Then there's the story of a couple of males who encountered some visiting teachers from… from Horseye, I think it was. They put on a display that the helpless guide—he was afraid to interfere—later described as 'elegantly obscene.' The porps were just having fun, but the young ladies were a little worried about just what their intent was. Scared them some, I'm afraid.

  "The porps apologized when they learned their antics weren't taken in the spirit of casual friendliness. They made amends with a voluntary display of aquatic acrobatics few visitors ever see."

  "Lazy, good-for-nothings!" Latehoht bawled over the earphones. "Unrepentant calves!"

  Cora switched her speaker back on. "Tell me, Latehoht, why shouldn't they spend all their lives playing? What purpose is there other than to eat and live and enjoy oneself? Since you don't desire to explore other worlds as mankind does, what do you do with your time when you aren't at play?" She held her breath, remembering what she had been told about cetacean sensitivity to interference in their lives.

  But Latehoht replied immediately, without rancor. "We do explorre the universe. The ends we seekk are closerr to uss than yours to you, yet no less reall to us for thatt. You said we 'don't desirre to explore other worlds as mankind does.' Why should we have to explorre 'as mankind does'? We leawe it to man to look upwardd. We wishh to spend many thousands of years looking inwardd."

  The orcas put on a momentary burst of speed, continued cruising several meters ahead of each fore foil, riding the slight bow waves from each side.

  Cora slipped free of her headset. "So they're all philosophers?"

  "Many see themselves that way," Sam told her, "except for the porpoises and a few others, like the belugas. The orcas are a little confused. They think sometimes like the great whales and sometimes like the porpoises—and sometimes, as Latehoht hinted, like us.

  "I don't pretend to be able to make sense of everything Latehoht and Wenkoseemansa say, but some of the finest alien psychologists in the Commonwealth have listened to tapes of their conversations and haven't been able to follow their multilevel semantics, either. So I don't feel I'm missing much." He shrugged. "Who knows? Give them another few thousand years and they might be building spaceships of their own, though I can't imagine how. We know a little about how they think. We don't know much about what they're thinking of."

  Several days passed before Latehoht and her mate raced back to circle the Caribe excitedly. It was early evening, and the sun was bequeathing the world-ocean its last
hours of light.

  Everyone was finishing the evening meal when the monitors began to squawk with orca cries. Sam led the rush for the deck, fumbling with his own headset as he waddled explosively up the stairs.

  "What is it, Wenkoseemansa?" he asked the first massive black and white head he saw.

  "You wish to know of the cauuse of destruction. Of what has caused the deathh and disappearancces, of the absencing of peoplle."

  "Of the vanishhment of your friends," Latehoht added, breaking the surface nearby.

  Cora found herself nodding, not sure whether the orcas knew what the gesture meant. Surely, as long as they had been around humans like Sam, they would understand so simple a movement.

  In any case, Latehoht rambled on. "Those comme who might be best to answwer." There was a slight touch of awe in her voice.

  "Thosse come who would be besst to ask," Wenkoseemansa declared somberly, "butt they will not answwer."

  "Likely will they nott answer," Latehoht concurred, "but if you wishh it, we will askk them if they will deign to be askked."

  "Yes, do so," Sam urged, "and hurry—before they get too far away. We won't intrude on their course, but will wait here if they swerve."

  He raised the master control, cut the ship's speed to a crawl, though he did not, Cora noticed, completely shut down the engines.

  "Who's coming?" she asked. "Whom were they talking about?"

  "Exactly whom they indicated, Cora. Those who would be in the best position to give us information on the destruction of the towns. As I said before, the Cetacea no longer fight among themselves, haven't for a thousand years. They have nothing here on Cachalot like a formal hierarchy or caste system or pecking order as we know it. But there is such a thing as respect—we humans occasionally practice it ourselves— and we're going to meet some of those whom the orcas and their brethren respect most of all."

  She was nodding understanding. "I know whom you mean now. This is one of those 'exceptions' you told me we might make."

  "Yes." He shifted his stance uncomfortably. "Pardon me if I'm a little nervous. I've never talked to any of them before. Very few humans have."

  "Who's he talking about?" Rachael had her headset resting on her forehead.

  "What creature has the largest brain of any animal that ever lived on the Earth?"

  "Sperm whale," her daughter said promptly. "They're going to talk to us?"

  Cora looked back to Sam, ignored Rachael's wide-eyed expression. "I'll get the cameras. Think they'll mind?"

  "If they do," he replied in a no-nonsense tone, "they'll let us know."

  Time passed. They remained together, leaning against the rail and staring to the west. There was no sign of the orcas, nor yet of those they would try to question.

  Sam studied the miniature grid on the master control. "Pretty far-sized pod, according to the sonarizer. I'd guess between two and three hundred." He felt a hesitant hand on his arm, saw in surprise that it was Cora's.

  "No, I'm not all that worried," he told her. "The catodons aren't openly hostile toward humanity. None of the great whales are. They just don't like our company. They're more indifferent than anything else, I believe. We annoy them. They're the most suspicious of the Cetacea, as well as the smartest.

  "However, Latehoht and Wenkoseemansa can be persuasive. As to whether they can turn the pod to speak to us, that will depend largely on the mood the pod leaders are in. If they do consent to talk with us, it will likely be only to insure that we won't chase them in hopes of getting them to talk at some future date. They may try to get rid of us now, as soon as possible."

  "Not worried, then, but still nervous. I can sense it."

  "You know me that well already?" he asked gently.

  She pulled her hand from his arm. "I can tell when anybody's nervous. You learn."

  "They're just so damned unpredictable," Sam said after several minutes had passed in silence. "I said they're not overtly hostile, but that doesn't mean this bunch couldn't be covertly hostile. Without witnesses, they could do whatever they pleased to us without fear of retribution. The law here favors them every step of the way."

  "Why take the chance, then?" Rachael wondered.

  "Because what Wenkoseemansa said happens to be true. If any among the native cetaceans knows anything about what happened to the four lost towns and their inhabitants, it would be the catodons."

  "Because they have morbid interests?"

  "Because they're interested in everything, young lady—except maintaining a relationship with mankind. I think it's a chance we have to take at least once, and we'll never have a better opportunity or meet a more likely placed pod than now." He studied the increasing darkness.

  "Anyway, I trust Latehoht and Wenkoseemansa. If the pod appears irritated or cantankerous, if there's any significant mating taking place, they'll stay clear and not make the request."

  "Shouldn't you be up in the bridge?" Merced wondered.

  "What for? To run our puny weapons system?" He waved the master control at the horizon. "There's two to three hundred catodons out there. If they do join us, they'll surround us in a minute. Most of them are likely bigger than this ship. If they're friendly, all's well. If they take it into their heads to get nasty… well, we'll be up against twelve to twenty thousand tons of intelligent, carnivorous mass. Might as well pray."

  It was almost dark and still no sign of any visitors. Cora had believed herself well prepared, but she forgot all her preparations, fell back against the wall of the cabin. She let out a loud "Oh!" of surprise. Rachael actually comported herself better because she was too stunned to move or speak. Even Sam took an involuntary step or two backward. Knowledge never eliminates all the old racial fears man retains for something bigger and stronger than he is. Knowledge can sometimes vitiate that fear, but on a strange world, in near night, it was hoping for more than mere fact could supply.

  The head that loomed against the night was a good six meters long and weighed no less than twenty tons, probably more. A long, narrow lower jaw hung open beneath it, showing sharp ivory teeth bigger than a fist. An absurdly tiny eye, close enough to touch, glared over the railing and twitched as it regarded them with an unmistakable air of contemptuous boredom.

  The catodon, or sperm whale, was balancing on its tail. Most of the gigantic, spermaceti-filled skull was thrust vertically from the water. The head itself weighed more than the entire suprafoil.

  It slid leisurely back into the water, having had its look at the tiny humans on the ship. Gradual as the slippage was, it still threw enough water on deck to drench the dazed watchers.

  Sam wiped back his hair, reminded Cora, "Switch on your headset."

  "What?" she mumbled, still stunned by the proximity of so much flesh.

  "Your translator unit—switch it on."

  She moved slowly to the railing, wondering if she had imagined the apparition. Her hands were shaking. Stop that, she ordered herself. You're dealing with intelligence here, and a mammalian intelligence at that. Not gross brute strength. She switched on her unit, stared over the side.

  Around them the dark water was no longer flat and smooth. It had grown an instant topography, a field of brown hills. The hills moved slowly, filling the evening air with explosive hisses and puffs, the exhalations of a colossal cetacean calliope. Dead breath made music in the night.

  It was a relief to see two familiar black and white forms drifting lazily alongside the slowly moving hull. The once intimidating torpedo shapes were dwarfed by the great bulks lolling around them.

  "They've comme," Wenkoseemansa announced anticlimactically.

  "They hawe come." Latehoht breathed easily. "Come to talkk to the people from off this worrld. To listen to their words and taste of their thoughts. That is the reasson they hawe come."

  "I guess we should feel flattered." Cora giggled, nervously self-conscious.

  They waited. The two orcas fluttered toward the bow. To make room. "One of the podd leaders commes," Latehoht s
aid. "Onne of the Thinkers, whosse thoughts are rich as milkk."

  I will not, Cora told herself, act like a schoolgirl this time! Both small hands clenched tightly around the railing. I won't back up. I will not allow myself to be shamed.

  But it was not easy. A new head rose out of the sea. It was half again as big as the first, deeply lined and dotted here and there with thick clumps of parasites. It was streaked with long white scars, inflicted by some unimaginable adversary of the Cachalot Deeps. Cora wondered what could do such damage to an intelligent catodon, larger and leagues smarter than its ancient Terran progenitor who had warred eternally with the giant kraken.

  Like the rest of the Cetacea, the catodonia had prospered on this world, growing to sizes unmatched by its persecuted and intellectually stunted ancestors. Evidently there was ample local food to support the population, although, as evidenced by the terrible scars this individual boasted, that food did not quietly accept its place in Cachalot's newly revised food chain.

  There was also a curious growth, a thickening of the lower jaw at the front end. It resembled a burl on a tree. The eye, small in comparison to the rest of the gigantic body, viewed Cora appraisingly. She did not have time to wonder at the herculean strength that kept the great head above water, because a voice reverberated in her headphones. It was slower than that of the orcas, almost as if its orginator found the mere process of speaking boring beyond belief.

  "My Little Cousins Say That Thou Wouldst Have Converse With Us."

  "Yes." Cora spoke without hesitation now. "We thank you."

  "Do Not Thank Us." The huge mammal continued to tread water, unbearably graceful for something so massive. "We Did It Not To Please Thee, But To Please Our Cousins, For They Were Most Insistent.

  "Now Say What Thou Wilt. Already Is The Talk Wearying To Us, And We Would Be On Our Way."

  "What do you—but we haven't even started yet."

  The head commenced a slow slide surfaceward. Around them sounded a vast, explosive heaving as the herd expelled bad air preparatory to sounding.