Part 13 (1/2)

to be mechanical.

”We'll do our best.” Rachael was becoming irrit- able, 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.

Hwos.h.i.+en 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, thei/ faint whines swal- lowed by distance.

Hwos.h.i.+en put his left foot up on the low f.l.a.n.g.e 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 circ.u.mnavigate 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 s.p.a.ce than in the medium of his birth.

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”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 suf- ferance. For all that we staggered out of the seas of Earth, they are still only places that we visit.”

He stepped off the f.l.a.n.g.e, 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 arrange- ments, secure in my chosen profession. Were I not, I would never have been appointed Resident Com- missioner. 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 other- wise. 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 s.h.i.+fted in Hwos.h.i.+en's head and he was suddenly downright cordial. ”I know how tired you must be. Would you join me for dinner to- night, please? We're very informal about such things here. We can talk further then. You'll have an op- portunity to sample the unique cuisine of our kitchen ... we sometimes even use human chefs to prepare our food. Again, I apologize for rus.h.i.+ng you so abruptly from your long journey to this meeting, but I wanted everything spelled out quickly . . . and to meet you myself.”

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”We'd be happy to join you,” Cora said. ”Any-

thing-as long as we can shower first.” :

”Of course. Surely the humidity is no worse than

you expected?”