Titan 5 - Over a Torrent Sea (24 page)

Still, Cethente recognized there was cause for concern here. It could survive most anything, but if the diving vessel Ra-Havreii’s engineers were designing failed, Cethente could be trapped in the ocean depths forever. Its body might be crushed if it sank to where the pressures were sufficiently deep, or it might simply be buried slowly, encased in the hot allotropic ice of the planet’s mantle. Either way, Cethente would be risking a death far more permanent than any of its previous three—and probably far more prolonged and unpleasant, though it could only remember the two less severe ones.

Of course, there was an option, though it would come as something of a shock to the others. It only needed to have a portion of its physical structure survive and be returned home in stasis, and the essence of Se’al Cethente would survive in a new form, and with a new thirdname. It would lack most of its memories of
Titan
and its discoveries, which would be a grave loss; but at least part of Cethente would live on.

“Tell me, Doctor Onnta,”
Cethente chimed before making its final decision,
“how easy would it be for you to reattach my legs if I had them removed…?”

DROPLET

I
t had begun to rain the day before, a matter of some discomfort for Riker, who had insufficient means to build a shelter. Aili felt somewhat guilty about being unaffected by the downpour, aside from being able to enjoy the soothing sound of the rainfall and a slightly less saline flavor to the water—though the rain brought a faint metallic tang all its own, for it was still precipitating asteroidal debris out of the atmosphere. Aili was also concerned that if the rain kept falling and diluting the water at the surface, Riker’s floater islet would lose some of its buoyancy and subside a little, leaving him more vulnerable to the high swells being kicked up by the growing wind—swells that often drenched much of the floater’s land surface despite the way it bobbed with them.

It would have been a matter of enough concern had Riker been at his peak, but he had been growing increasingly weak over the past few days. “It’s this mineral-poor
ecosystem,” Riker had deduced once his weakness had become impossible to deny. “I’m not getting enough iron, calcium, you name it. And it didn’t help that I was injured, lost a lot of blood. The squales couldn’t give me enough of what I needed to recover, even with whatever miraculous biotech they used.”

Lavena looked skyward. “What about the asteroid dust in the rain?”

Riker threw an ironic glance toward the clouds. “That might help a bit, but it’s got too
much
heavy metal to be good for me. Although the malnutrition will probably get me long before the metal poisoning does. Unless we get back to
Titan
.”

Aili felt guilty again. As natives of a pelagic world, Selkies had evolved to get by with a less mineral-rich diet than humans, so she was less affected than Riker. Still, she would suffer nutritional deficiencies as well if she had to stay here long enough.

But the immediate concern now was the weather, and she went to the squales to ask if anything could be done for Riker. As it happened, the squales already had plans to move them, because the weather problem was more severe than she had realized.

Riker’s eyes widened when she relayed the news. “The hurricane?
The
hurricane?”

She nodded. “Spot, in all its glory. We’re drifting into its fringes.”

“Please tell me there’s a way to navigate this island,” he said. “Or have it towed.”

“Actually, you can say good-bye to the island, sir. We’re being relocated. I asked if they could arrange for better
accommodations, but right now they’re pretty insistent about just getting us out of here.”

Riker looked around the tiny speck he inhabited with no trace of nostalgia in his eyes. “How do they plan to do that?”

But soon enough, the answer presented itself. An object of some sort became visible in the distance, drawing toward them as though being towed. Once it came close enough, it became evident that it was a flat, disklike creature with a tall stem of some sort rising from the center, almost like a raft of some kind. Cham, Gasa, and some of their podmates were accompanying it, towing it into range. Cham sang to her that it had been obtained from another pod—he called them “life-makers”—through some kind of trade she did not understand (and that Cham seemed less than happy with—or maybe he was just offended at having his talents wasted on shepherding such an unintelligent tool-creature). Aili swam out to investigate, singing thanks to them, and clambered onto it to test its stability. It held her weight easily. It was flexible and bouncy like a waterbed, and made of a soft membranous material. She could barely keep her footing, and hastily knelt on the surprisingly warm surface. She examined the vaguely translucent membrane visually and probed it with her hands, and realized she was sitting on a large inflated organism, reminiscent of one of the gas jellies that were common on this world, but with a tougher skin and no sign of any stings, at least on top.

Aili dove back into the water to replenish her oxygen and examine the creature’s underside. Indeed, there were no stings or tendrils, to her relief. There didn’t even seem
to be any means of propulsion—just a keel-like protrusion along the bottom. But that mastlike growth on top made her wonder.

Riker was in no condition to tarry, so she helped him over to the raft. His grass thong, grown sodden and rotted from the rain, fell apart before he reached the raft, leaving him with no protection once he climbed onto it. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stay calm, Riker asked, “Now what?”

“I think it’s a sailboat,” Aili told him. “On Pacifica there are some jellies that have sails of sorts, letting them travel by wind. I think Earth has similar creatures.”

Gasa swam over to her and guided her around the sail-jelly, showing her a set of loops that she soon discerned were a harness, allowing her to ride the craft with her gill-crests mostly immersed but her head above water to speak to Riker. Once she was in place, another squale—one she didn’t recognize, perhaps a visitor from the “life-maker” pod—emitted a clear, precise sound. Immediately, the sail began to unfurl, and in moments it was pulled fully taut and catching the wind. The sail-jelly began to move under the wind’s impetus, and in moments another squale call came and the sail moved, adjusting its angle, altering the creature’s course. “The damn thing’s domesticated,” Riker murmured.

“More than that,” Aili said. “I think they designed it for us. I can’t figure why else it would have these loops for me.”

“In just a couple of days? How is that possible?”

Aili asked Gasa and the new visitor, but all they would tell her was,
“Later.”
But there was an overtone of uncer
tainty, as though her young friends were unsure their elders would let the offworlders in on the secret.

So there was nothing to do but lie back and enjoy the ride. Riker sighed. “What is it with us and jellyfish vessels?” he wondered.

“It is threatening to become a trend,” Aili replied, chuckling.

But Riker couldn’t sustain good humor for long. Although the sail-jelly was tacking away from the hurricane, they were still being steadily rained on. Riker pressed himself against the jelly’s surface, getting what warmth he could from it, but he was shivering before long. After a moment’s deliberation, Aili climbed up onto the raft alongside him. “Sir…let me.” She lay down behind him and spooned her body against his, sharing her warmth.

“Ensign,” he replied through chattering teeth, “this is not appropriate.”

“Letting my captain freeze to death isn’t appropriate.”

“You’ll suffocate.”

“The rain will keep my gills wet. At least for a while.”

“No. Really, I can’t.”

“Please, Will,” she said, using his given name in an attempt to reassure him. “Just relax. It’s nothing to be afraid of.” She slid her arms around him, pressing herself closer to share her warmth. “We’ve been a lot more intimate than this before.”

He pulled himself away, turning to face her, though keeping his knees up modestly—not soon enough to hide how he was responding to her, though. “I’m a married man, dammit. How dare you?”

“What?!” she exclaimed. “Sir, I’m just trying to keep
you warm! If anyone’s feeling anything sexual, it’s you!” she said, nodding toward the proof.

“You expect me to believe that? I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me and smiling since we ended up here.”

“Because I think it’s so silly that you feel you have to hide from me!”

“I’m your commanding officer and I love my wife!”

She knew they were miscommunicating. She sometimes forgot that many humans perceived all nudity as sexual, regardless of context. That part of it was a simple cultural misunderstanding, and Riker’s weakened condition wasn’t doing wonders for his judgment or patience. But she was past caring about any of that. He’d struck a far deeper nerve. “Is that what you really think of me, Captain? That I’m nothing but a hedonist? That I can’t be trusted to act responsibly? Do you really have so low an opinion of me?”

“I only expect you to act according to your culture. And that’s fine, for you. Just leave me out of it, that’s all. It’s different for me.”

“You think I can’t understand commitment because I’m a Selkie?” She let out a frustrated growl, lowering herself far enough off the side to replenish her oxygen. “You damn offworlders! We’re all just a bunch of libertines to you, aren’t we? Just like Argelius or Risa, but more exotic. Wetter.” She felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of Risa, which had been thoroughly devastated by the Borg. But she was too angry to take it back. “You come to our world to take advantage of us and you never bother to learn just what it is you’re exploiting. You think that just because
we’re Selkies, we’re all alike, all free and uninhibited no matter which phase we’re in.”

“What are you talking about?” Riker shot back. “You certainly weren’t inhibited back when you were amphibious. Not that night at the embassy, anyway.”

“And it never occurred to you that
that was the problem?!
All you brilliant Starfleet explorers, didn’t you ever think about the implications of a life cycle with less than two decades of fertility?”

He shook his head at the seeming non sequitur. “I know you have large families while you can.”

“Yes! Yes. And who the
iesat
do you think is raising those families while we’re off having crazy uninhibited sex all the time, hm? Did it never occur to you that responsibility and hedonism don’t exactly mix?”

She’d vowed never to let him know what he’d been a part of, not wanting to burden him with her guilt. But she no longer cared. She told him the whole thing: how only the mature aquatics were free to indulge themselves; how the amphibious were expected to be responsible; how recreational sex was a selfish thrill they sought, pairing with offworlders because they didn’t know and wouldn’t judge. “Because you’re all a bunch of hypocrites,” she told him. “You don’t bother to figure out that you’re facilitating something improper and irresponsible. Easier for you to pretend we’re all just like the full aquatics, because then you can take advantage of our negligence and convince yourselves it’s a celebration of cultural
kyesh
ing diversity!”

“Is that so?” Riker fired back, as angry as she was now. “
You
choose to neglect your family responsibilities and that makes it
our
fault? Well, tell me something, Ensign Lavena.
If your dalliances with offworlders are such a source of shame to you, why did you join Starfleet? You certainly haven’t found it repulsive to sleep your way through a quarter of my crew! Perhaps the lady doth protest too much!”

She wanted to strike him. But on some level she remembered that he was weak and miserable…and he wasn’t the one she was truly angry at. But she was angry enough to swim away and leave him shivering. He wouldn’t accept her warmth anyway, and right now neither of them could stand to be together. So she let Alos cradle her gently in his strong tentacles and carry her the rest of the way.

PLANET LUMBU (UFC 86659-II)

Administrator Ruddle was eager to get home. The latest round of debates would be starting any
gryt
now, and the canal ferry didn’t have a radio. Ruddle would probably miss the beginning of the coverage. But the sooner she could finish up her hospital business for the day and get out the doors, the more of the debate she could partake in.

Not that Ruddle fancied herself any great philosopher. She could barely follow the intricacies of the ideas the combatants expounded upon—the origins of the cosmos, the gradations of corporeality, the multiplicity of worlds, the dynamics of poetry. But she did have a vested interest in knowing whether Lirht would remain ruled by the Cafmor or be ceded to the Regent of Kump. Those Kumpen had notions of medical ethics that Ruddle had no desire to see implemented here at Hvov Memorial—unless, of
course, she could be persuaded of their worth by sufficiently eloquent debate.

But then, that was the major bone of contention being hashed out in tonight’s debate. In principle, the war of words had already ended, and the Regent was claiming victory. But the Cafmor and the Lirhten Council rejected the claim. It all came down to an issue Ruddle felt more qualified to comprehend: was the winner in a debate the one who proved one’s case more thoroughly and substantially, as Lirhten believed, or the one who adhered more skillfully to the traditional rhetorical form, as Kumpen held to be true? No doubt the Regent had debated beautifully, improvising in perfect twelvefold stanzas without a single syllable stressed out of place. No doubt his use of traditional formulas and invocations had been flawless. But the Council was led by reformists who held that the traditional elevation of form was shallow and decadent, that a leader needed to prove actual knowledge and practical ability, not just mastery of conventional formulas. The Cafmor’s arguments had been more informed, more weighted with facts and deduction; but to the Kumpen authorities, that was irrelevant, for her form had been so sloppy and informal that they perceived it as an insult to the Regent himself.