Part 19 (1/2)
anything goes wrong, the s.h.i.+p will stop. If nothing stops, there's no reason for me to hover over the in- struments. You're still thinking in terms of the oceans of more developed worlds.
”There isn't an island or reef within kilometers. This section of sea, this close to Mou'anui, has been fairly well mapped. The chance of our encountering another s.h.i.+p, let alone running into one, is about one in several million. A true pa.s.senger pa.s.sages and lets his s.h.i.+p take care of itself. That's what it's designed to do. In the unlikely event we do encounter something, it will warn us in plenty of time. You don't think any vessel as smart as this one is going to bash itself up simply because it has a few dumb humans aboard, do you?”
”Okay-let up on me, will you?”
Several high whistles and squeaks joined the conver- sation. She looked to starboard. Sam put down his book, frowned intently. ”That's Latehoht. She's talk- ing to you.”
”How do you know, and why to me?”
”I know a little orca. As to the second”-he smiled at her-”ask her yourself. You'll need your headset.
And hurry.” He glanced upward. ”Soon it will be hot noon and they'll slide beneath the s.h.i.+p. They like to travel in the shade of the hull.”
She started to leave. ”It's down in my cabin. I'll go get it.”
”Never mind. Use mine.” He pointed.
She located the translator unit, donned it, and ad- justed the controls. Then she was leaning over the side and shouting, ”Good morning.”
”Haill and good hunttingg, grreetings to thhe sssun!” the joyful response came. For an instant the magnificently streamlined black and white body disap- peared, only to break the surface seconds later. ”A ggood dayy to beee aliwe, to swwim and to eatt and to thhinkkkk.”
”Haill and morrrning,” a slightly deeper echo
84 .
sounded. Wenkoseemansa greeted her nearby. Cora noted that when traveling, one had to adopt a pause- and-wait style of conversation to match the whales arcing in and out of the water. But the male did not
reappear.
”What's wrong with Wenkoseemansa?” Cora asked Sam, moving the headset pickup aside so the unit would not translate her question into orca. ”Doesn't
he like me?”
”What makes you think Latehoht likes you?” he teased. ”Don't mind Wenkoseemansa. He's the strong,
silent type.”
”Apletely the instrument belt encircling his waist.
”Latehoht's a fine storyteller. Orcas love to tell stories. They all think they're poets. Sometimes I think they stay around men just to have someone new to listen to them. So be a good audience.”
With pauses while she was beneath the surface,
85.
Latehoht proceeded to tell the story of Poleetat, an ancestral orca and one of the first to reach Cachalot.