Alan Dean Foster Commonwealth 02 Cachalot

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richer in extent, than any ancient prince from Haroun al-Rashid on down could
have dreamed of. They had started dinner before sundown. Now the stars shone
on glass sands, making of them an echo of the distant Milky Way.
They trod cold fires. Buildings and trees became mere cutouts from a
child's games, toy silhouettes against the night. Merced and Rachael had
fallen well behind.
"How did you happen to get into peaceforcer work?" Cora asked Sam
curiously. "You don't strike me as the type."
"Meaning I fit the mold physically but not mentally?" He grinned at her
discomfort.
"I didn't mean..."
"Forget it. I'm used to it. I just drifted into it, I guess. Why do
people become what they become? Life twists and turns on picayune events."
"Well, I always wanted to be a marine biologist."
"And I always wanted to have it easy and be happy," he countered. "Not
very elevated career goals, but satisfying ones. I was born and raised here on
Cachalot. Didn't have the aptitude for science, and fishing, gathering, and
mining were too much work. That left some kind of administrative post.
"I wasn't much good with tapework, so when the request was made for local
peaceforcers, I joined up. Hwoshien believes strongly in compromise. Well, if
I have any talent, it seems to be the ability to get others to do just that.
Which is another way of saying I'm very good at stopping fights before they
get started.
"I guess I've reached my present position because I did my job, didn't
offend anyone or make too many mistakes. I also happen to be good at what's
necessary after compromise has failed."
"I know," Cora said. "I could tell that from the way you reacted to that
toglut by the pier."
"Oh, a toglut is nothing." He spoke in an off-handed way that indicated
he wasn't boasting. "As I explained, they're slow and generally inoffensive.
Wait till we're out on the open ocean. Away from Mou'anui. Cachalot's
predators have evolved in the most extensive oceanic environment in the
Commonwealth. A mallost would have togluts for breakfast."
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"I can't wait," she told him honestly.
They had almost reached the looming shadow of the administrative
dormitory. A few lights were visible within the structure, moth-eyes in the
night. Somewhere the somnolent hum of storage batteries taking over from the
now useless photovoltaics sounded a counterpoint to the steady slapping of
small waves against the distant beach.
"Wait a second," Sam said.
Oh, oh... Cora readied herself. What sort of line would he try? She
doubted it would be very original. Bless his gentle boyish soul, Sam didn't
seem the type. But it would be a line nonetheless. Years had enabled her to
assemble a formidable arsenal of disarming responses. Because she liked him,
she would opt for one of the milder disclaimers.
Instead of reaching for her with words or hands he knelt. One hand held a
palmful of sand, the other worked at his utility belt. "Have a look." A small
light winked on, ultraviolet. He thumbed a switch on the side of the
generator. The beam broadened slightly. He turned it on the sand he held.
It was as if he had dipped his hand into the treasure chest of some
ancient mogul or pirate. Under the ultraviolet beam the hexalate grains
fluoresced brilliantly in a hundred shades, sawdust shaved from a rainbow. The
glow did not have the blinding prismatic harshness created by sunlight.
Instead, the colors were soft and rich, gentle on the eyes.
The light winked out, but to her delight the colors remained. The
phosphorescence faded slowly, reluctantly. As it did so, he turned his hand
and let the ribbon of tiny suns dribble from his palm.
"Oh, how beautiful, Sam! I expected a fairyland world, but not in such
variety."
"Remember the predators." He chuckled. "Some of those 'fairies' will
gobble you down quick."
They moved on, stopped outside the dormitory. She turned, looked up at
him. "I enjoyed walking back with you."
"Thanks for letting me. You really couldn't have gotten lost. You can't
do that on land on Cachalot."
She was waiting for the kiss, wondering if she would object, wondering if
she would let him and like it, when he startled her by touching her on the
nose with one finger.
"Good night, Cora Xamantina. See you ananahi 'ia po'ipo'i. Tomorrow
morning."
More puzzled than disappointed, she watched him lumber off into the
night. Unlike the sands, he did not glow in the dark, though she felt that
with the right kind of stimulus, he might.
Thoughts drifting, she made two wrong turns in the building before
finding her room.
Her chamber was Spartan but impeccably clean, although bits of hexalate
sand glittered in spots. She suspected one could be completely free of that
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substance only on the open sea. The room contained a bed, a small clothes
closet, a couple of chairs woven from some local sea plant, and a matching mat
of emerald-green growth and intricate handwork: off to one side was a small
sanitary annex with amenities for cleaning and washing.
In one corner were three neatly placed cases, two large and one small.
The seamless plastic responded to her electronically encoded key when she
pressed it to the exterior of the seal-lock. From the second case she
carefully removed her diving suit. Her second skin, really, considering the
amount of time she had spent inside it. It consisted of a double layer of
virtually untearable plastic alloy colored a watery blue-green. Between the
two incredibly thin layers was a special thermosensitive gel that would keep
the body warm to a depth of a hundred meters at one gravity.
She laid the suit neatly across one of the chairs. It was unharmed, as
always, but that never prevented her from going through the ritual check.
Next she withdrew the special face mask that covered her entire head and
sealed itself to the body of the suit. In addition to examining the curved
glass-alloy faceplate that permitted excellent peripheral vision, she checked
the regulator on the gillsystem. The backpack unit took oxygen directly from
the water and mixed it in proper proportion with nitro-helium from a second
small tank.
The tiny container of concentrated liquid rations that would rest behind
her left ear was full. She hooked it to the head mask, made sure the spigot
feed inside the faceplate was clear. A spigot entering from the other side [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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