Part 40 (2/2)
”Yes.” Rachael was too excited to respond to the sarcasm.
Dawn arrived next, followed closely by Mataroreva.
”You sure they're foils?” He spoke to Merced.
”Unmistakable. Two of them.”
”That's funny.” He sounded puzzled. ”I would've thought a skimmer from Mou'anui would have arrived first. It's too soon for a foil from Administration Dis- patch.”
”Probably these were fis.h.i.+ng in the area,” Dawn suggested hopefully, ”When Mou'anui got the word.”
Her voice dropped. ”Or rather, didn't get the word.
They would come here if a general broadcast was made, as it should have been.”
”Makes sense,” Mataroreva conceded. ”We'll know in a few minutes what they're doing here.”
Cora frowned at him. ”What are you talking about, Sam? You still subscribing to the theory that humans are somehow directing the baleens?”
”I'm not subscribing to anything except caution,”
he shot back. ”We've nothing to lose by spending a little while longer in the water. We can wait a bit more. And watch.”
They did so, cl.u.s.tered tightly behind the bemmy, their heads just above water. The pair of foils slowed, settled into the nearby section of sea where the town of Vai'oire had floated in peace not long ago.
174 .
Distant splas.h.i.+ngs reached the hidden watchers. ., Divers in gelsuits were dropping from both foils. Fran- tic activity marred the smooth lines of the two s.h.i.+ps.
Cora pushed back her mask, spoke directly to Mataroreva, as he had insisted they all do. Suit-unit transmissions, he had declared, were too easily de- tected.
”See? They're looking for survivors.” She moved as
if to start around the mound of hexalate.
He put out a hand, grabbed her. ”Maybe.” He stared thoughtfully across the thin ridge that broke the sur- face. ”But if they're searching for survivors, why
haven't they broadcast their location?”
”Maybe they're just investigating, after receiving or- ders from Mou'anui to do so,” Rachael suggested.
”Maybe they know from previous experience that
there are no survivors.”
”Investigating for what?” Mataroreva went silent.
They had their answer soon enough. Divers began returning to their s.h.i.+ps. Blocks and winches, magnetic and straight, were dropped over the sides of each ves- sel. Soon the men were hoisting individual crates ana bits of selected debris on deck. The flotsam was then neatly stacked and tied down. It had the air of a well- practiced operation.
”Instrumentation.” Mataroreva squinted across the sunlit surface. ”Ah, and there's a couple of freshly sealed containers. What do they look like to you,
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