Part 8 (1/2)

A number of craft were docked at the pier. Matar- oreva directed them to a small, waterstained skimmer.

They boarded and he activated controls. Immediately the little s.h.i.+p lifted a meter off the water. It could go considerably higher, but there was no need to expend the power. A touch on another switch and they found themselves racing across the broad lagoon toward its southernmost end.

Cora leaned back, marveled at the faceted hexalate formations speeding past beneath the rapidly moving craft. She could hardly wait to get into the water here, to see at first hand the marine marvels she had studied.

Reefs a thousand meters and more in depth were not

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37.

unknown, for the hexalates had been building on Ca- chalot for millions of years, long before the land had all been worn away or had subsided.

Mataroreva looked back from the controls, watched her watching. ”You love the sea, don't you, Cora?”

”All my life,” she told him quietly. ”Ever since I was old enough to realize the difference between ocean and bathtub.”

”I know how you feel,” he replied. ”To me. Cacha- lot the planet is one vast, perfect ozmidine, cut and polished by the hand of G.o.d. If I could,” he said in the same voice, ”I would make a bracelet of it so you could wear it on your wrist.”

”Thanks for the thought, Sam. But I've been given similar gifts and promises in the past. The bracelets were fake, and the promises broke, too.”

”I understand.” Mataroreva turned back to his con- trols but continued to speak. ”Bracelets, gems, can be Mke that sometimes; bright and flashy instead of solid, well crafted, and made with care . . . like promises.”

Cora felt ashamed. Why couldn't she be more open, like Rachael? Age had nothing to do with her way of looking at people. It was a question of experience.

Take Mataroreva, for example. Why a.s.sume his de- ference toward Hwos.h.i.+en was owing to a lack of back- bone? He was only an employee here, without her off-world independence. And he was charming.

Ah, but Silvio had been charming. Oh, how charm- ing! As charming, as bright, as the crystal formations they were skimming over. But Mataroreva was not Silvio. Why condemn him for being pleasant? The two had nothing in common save gender. Wasn't it time she ceased condemning all because of one? She was so tired of acting tough.

Downright delightful, this Mataroreva-Sam. Men- tally he was still a mystery. But he shared her love of the sea, and the warmth of holiday and the sense of

38 CACHALOT.

eternal vacation that hung over this world were be- ginning to weaken her.

Mataroreva shattered the reverie. ”You know, an- other town was destroyed last week. Rorqual.”

This brought her brusquely back to reality. She was all business again. ”Destroyed-an entire town? I know we were being brought in on this because people were being killed, but no one mentioned anything about the destruction of an entire town. And you said 'an- other.' ”

”There have been several such incidents.”

”How many?” Merced asked patiently.

”Four.”

”Four deaths?” Rachael was staring at Mataroreva now.

He shook his head. His expression had become solemn. ”Four towns. The entire populations, com- pletely wiped out. Not a trace of them left behind, and we've no idea what's causing it. Twenty-five hun- dred men, women, and children. All gone. 'Ati.”

”Similarities?” Cora wanted to know. ”What were the similarities, the links tying these incidents to- gether?”

Sam smiled patiently at her. ”Hard at work al- ready? Take your time, Cora Xamantina. We have already eliminated the obvious.” He glanced back at Rachael and Merced. ”You all may as well take your time. We haven't just been swimming in circles here, so don't expect to find any quick answers. Twenty- five hundred people.” He returned his full attention to the skimmer controls.

”We'll determine the cause,” Cora said finally, after a long silence in the craft, ”and put a stop to it.”