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listening to his plaintive calls. He was still seeking the pair of missing
orcas. As the days passed without any reply from the empty sea, he grew more
and more morose. Less time was paid to his companions, to eating, to anything
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other than his muscle-wearying swims. Cora began to feel that his attraction
for the two whales was obsessive.
Or was it simply that in spending so much time seeking them, he was
ignoring her?
At least his obsession was inclusive. He ignored Dawn as well. And
despite herself, Cora felt increasingly sympathetic toward the girl. She was
too young to take so much death in stride.
They continued hunting for a body or two. A drowned human would
eventually rise to the surface through the production of gas via
decomposition. But they found not an arm or a leg or anything to indicate that
hundreds of human beings had once occupied this section of sea. To Cora, their
absence posed as great a mystery as the still inexplicable assault of the
baleens.
The food from the packages was a welcome change from the bland liquid
nutrients supplied by their suits. Cora finished her lunch, slid back into the
water. They were entering their fourth day in the sea.
Such an existence compelled her to consider the catodon's way of
thinking. Four days of eating, sleeping, and living in near open ocean is
enough to affect anyone's outlook on life. Once she had spent fourteen
consecutive hours in the water, but that was nothing compared to four days.
A gentle current rocked you to sleep. You would awaken beneath the
surface of the sea, to find a glass-faced human hovering above you and
mumbling concerns. Once or twice a day it was time to bathe outside your
gelsuit. It began to seem foolish to get dressed to get back into the water.
The reef became home as well as refuge. Certain hexalate growths grew as
familiar as any furniture. Several territorial teleosts greeted the swimming
humans as associates, if not friends. Cora found herself worried one morning
when a favorite blue and pink fish failed to appear on schedule, and was
relieved when it finally did.
At night they glowed alongside their protective bemmy, one remaining on
watch while the others slept. Thousands of nocturnal reef dwellers commenced
to fill their half of the daily cycle of life. She nearly forgot what it was
like to be a land-dwelling creature. Her legs were accustomed to functioning
in smooth, alternating kicks now. How much easier, more graceful, it was than
walking!
Given gills instead of the confining gelsuit, she believed she could
adapt readily to an oceanic existence. She found that she didn't miss solid
land at all. In fact, if assured of an ample supply of food and fresh drinking
water, she felt she could live this way for months on end.
Her enthusiasm was not shared by her companions. Of the four, only
Mataroreva seemed at home in the water. There his great bulk was neutralized
and he became as graceful as a seal. But his moroseness turned to bitterness
as the days passed. When he talked to Cora or the others, it was with an
increasing and unnatural brusqueness that was quite unlike him.
By now the last floating fragments of the town of Vai'oire had been
carried off by the current. Anything potentially useful to the five refugees
had been secured. Rather than drift and think, Cora tried to do some serious
work.
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It was while she was studying a particularly interesting anemonelike
creature that Dawn swam down to join her. Bubbles rose like clear jelly from
the back of her breathing unit.
"You mustn't blame Sam, you know."
"What? What makes you think I blame Sam for anything?"
"I've seen the way you watch him, react to his presence," the girl said.
"It's there in the way your body moves, and in your eyes behind your mask."
Cora turned away from the purple fan she had been examining, looked
around. She and Dawn were alone. Whatever expression the girl wore was
distorted by the mask. Only her eyes could be seen.
"Sam-Sam's problem is that he genuinely loves everybody," Dawn explained.
"You mustn't think of me as a rival."
Cora looked away nervously. That was precisely how she had come to regard
her.
"It wasn't only me, you know," the lithe young woman continued. "I think
Sam must know half the women on Cachalot. They all like him. Why shouldn't we?
He's a wonderful, charming man. But a permanent mate?" She shook her head, the
motion given an unintentional portentousness by the resistance of the water.
Cora checked to make certain her broadcast unit was operating with only
enough power for this intimate person-to-person conversation. "What makes you
think I was considering Sam as anything more thana ..."
"Oh, come on," Dawn scoffed gently. "You're as transparent as the water
here. Don't you see that I'm trying to help you?"
"Don't do me any favors," Cora replied coolly.
"Sam-he..." The girl looked thoughtful. "He isn't designed to love just
one woman. Some men and women aren't. He truly loves everyone, and feels-
though he might not be able to articulate this feeling -that he should spread
that great love around."
"I think you and I define love in different ways."
"Maybe we do, Ms. Xamantina. Maybe we do."
"Call me Cora."
"Thank you." Dawn smiled gratefully. "I'd like that. I'm only giving you
a piece of advice, believe me. It's absurd for you to think of me as a rival
for Sam's permanent affection. You can't compete for something that isn't
available."
"That remains to be seen. You seem awfully certain of yourself and your
appraisal of Sam."
"It isn't just Sam," the girl said, oddly reflective. "It's Cachalot. Sam
was born here. So was I. If you had been born here, you'd understand his
attitude better than you seem to. The competition is more than you imagine,
and yet isn't really competition at all."
"If you're trying to puzzle me, I don't pay much attention to riddles."
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"No, I'm not trying to confuse you." Dawn sighed, partly out of
resignation, partly from exasperation.
"Then tell me straight what you're talking about."
The young woman hesitated. "I think it may be better for you if you find
out for yourself. I'm not sure you'd believe me anyway."
"You're still doing a poor job of putting me off through confusion and
mystery." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]