Part 35 (2/2)
”They range in color from a vitreous green to a light lavender,” Sam told them animatedly. Rachael and Merced were listening with interest. ”They school in the thousands over this reef.”
”How big?” Merced asked.
”About the size of my fist.” He made one by way of example. ”Plus the tentacle length.”
”The town hunts for them?” Cora was intrigued de- spite herself.
”No, not for them. There's a small fish, about the size of my little finger ...”
”You have expressive hands,” she cut in. ”Two ex- amples already.”
He eyed her uncertainly for an instant, hunting for hidden meanings before continuing. ”The fish live in millions of crevices in the reef. When they school, the cephalopods arrive to hunt them-and to mate. When they're mating they pulse like fireflies: the males, dif- ferent shades of blue; the females, of red. They're powerful bioluminescents. And they dance, a kind of figure-eight weave. Thousands and thousands weaving together, and pulsing every shade of red and blue.”
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”Sounds like a subject for a new composition,” Ra- chael admitted, thinking of the neurophon languis.h.i.+ng back in her room. As she did so, her expression drooped. ”But I promised to do that concert.”
”You didn't promise a particular night,” Merced re- minded her. ”You can put off our hosts for a couple of days.”
”All right, tomorrow would be as good as tonight, I suppose.” She rose from the table. ”Sure. I'll go tell them, and get into my suit.” She suddenly glanced over at Cora, asked concernedly, ”You coming along, Mother?”
What an odd tone to her voice, Cora thought. Surely I'm acting perfectly normal. ”Of course I'm coming along. It sounds very exciting.”
”Good.” Mataroreva put away his sketch film, from which the drawing of the cephalopod was already fad- ing. ”At the northeast end of town you'll find a long, isolated pier. It's tangent to the nearest portion of the reef shallows.” He checked his chronometer. ”Sun- down's in about an hour. We should meet at two in the morning.”
”That long?” Rachael was looking out a window.
”It's dark already.”
”Clouds,” he replied, following her gaze. ”It's not the darkness-the cephalopods have a particular time of night. We'll all simply have to remain awake for a while. The rain won't affect them, if it comes.”
Excitement overcoming her sleepiness, Cora made her way through the dimly lit streets of the town. So late at night (early in the morning, she corrected her- self), the majority of the townsfolk were long since sound asleep.
She reached the edge of town, heard the water lap- ping at the polymer raft. Ahead lay the pier. At its far end she could make out several shadowy figures.
”We're all here,” Rachael offered as Cora joined
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them. She was already poured into her gelsuit. Merced was adjusting his mask. In fact, they were more than all there. Now five figures were standing at the end of the pier.
”This is our guide.” Sam pointed to another shape making final tunings of its own equipment. ”There are enough ins and outs to nightdiving a strange reef to make it tricky. It would be hard to lose anyone, but this is safer.”
”I know that. You think I'm a complete idiot?” Ra- chael looked sharply at her mother, and Cora could see the puzzlement on her daughter's face through faceplate and darkness.
”I'm sorry-I know you don't,” she apologized.
”Naturally it would be sensible for us to have a guide.”
”I'll do my best, Ms. Xamantina,” a voice said. The fifth figure turned toward her. Cora stared. She trem- bled just a little, and the quivering pa.s.sed quickly. It was the girl Sam had been with.
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