Part 38 (1/2)

”That's a pretty far-fetched hypothesis,” Cora com- mented.

”I'm willing to accept a better one.”

”Could a human agency somehow be controlling

the baleens?”

”I don't see how.” But she could see he was seri- ously considering the idea. ”No group of humans could so completely dominate and direct a pod of in- telligent whales. Not by any known technique.” His hand gestured, a glowing pointer in the water.

”There must be a couple of hundred cetaceans functioning in chorus out there to generate such total destruction in so short a time. No wonder the other towns never even had time to send out a warning.”

”I think we'd all do well to be silent for a while.”

Merced was looking away from them, around the hex- alate tower.

”Why?” Cora asked.

He pointed toward the town, to where the reef sloped off into deeper water. ”I think I just saw some- thing move.”

They went quiet, huddling together tight against the finger of silicate. The rumbles had vanished, and the water, though still disturbed, was silent.

Cora couldn't be certain, but she thought she saw a great silver-gray wall sliding past in the blackness. It was only a dim outline on the far boundaries of per- ception. She cursed their gelsuits' irrepressible lumi- nescence. The sight reminded her of nothing so much as a shark on patrol, and she shuddered, cold now despite the warming efficiency of the suit.

The outline faded into the blackness from which it had emerged, but they continued to stay bunched to- gether and silent. With their suits automatically as- sisting in respiration, they might have slept in s.h.i.+fts, those awake monitoring the regulators of their somno- lent companions. They tried to do so, but no one could fall asleep. The gelsuits could modulate air and warmth but could do nothing where fear was con- cerned.

Gradually, an eternity later, the water around them began to lighten. The storm had long since moved on.

Sunlight was once more turning the water to gla.s.s, sparkling off the brilliant reef growths. The day swim- mers appeared, poking at crevices in the hexalates for food and amus.e.m.e.nt. Long, multihued fronds hesi- tantly unfolded from their hiding places, began to strain the water for microscopic sustenance.

All was normal save for the presence of thousands of inorganic objects drifting on the surface. Some sank slowly past the five tired swimmers, who made their way carefully to the light. Around them drifted the remnants of the town of Vai'oire, shattered and torn.

164.

CACHALOT.

CACHALOT

165.

Sections of housing, packages, clothes, and personal effects bobbed eerily on the gentle current. Meter- square hunks of polymer raft dominated the flotsam like miniature icebergs. The superstrong polymer had a breaking point of several tons per square meter, a point which the rampaging cetaceans had handily ex- ceeded.

Incongruously human in the sea of technological corpses, a doll drifted past. It was half sunk, badly waterlogged already. Its head was bent and hung be- neath the surface. Cora s.h.i.+ed away from it as if it could poison her through the water.

They remained next to the crest of the bemmy, hanging onto it as they studied in stunned silence the section of sea where the town had been anch.o.r.ed.

Considering that all her friends and a.s.sociates, per- haps relatives as well, had been killed, Dawn was holding together surprisingly well.

”I'm going to hunt for survivors,” Mataroreva an- nounced.

”What about remaining cetaceans?”

He started swimming around the bemmy, looked back at Cora. ”I don't think so. I don't see any plumes or backs. Not a fin in sight. They finished their work last night.”