Startide Rising (The Uplift Saga, #2) - David Brin Page 0,118
So, thought I, why not get to the longboat by a route they wouldn’t even think of watching?”
Metz’s eyes widened. “The sleeve! You crawled into one of the sealed maintenance ways that the builders used on Earth, and made your way to the boat’s access panels, down by the thrust motors.…”
“Righto!” Charlie beamed as he buckled his seatbelt.
“You probably had to remove some plates in the sleeve wall, using a jack-pry. No dolphin could manage such a thing in an enclosed space, so they didn’t think of it.”
“No, they didn’t.”
Metz looked Charlie up and down. “You passed pretty close to the thrusters. Did you get cooked?”
“Hmmm. My suit rad-meter says raw to medium rare.” Charlie mocked blowing on his fingertips.
Metz grinned. “I shall, indeed, take note of this rare display of ingenuity, Dr. Dart! And welcome aboard. I’ll be too busy anyway, inspecting the Kiqui, to take proper care of that robot of yours. Now you can do it right.”
Dart nodded eagerly. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Excellent. Perhaps we can have a few games of chess, as well.”
“I’d like that.”
They sat back and watched as the ocean ridges passed by. Every few minutes one would look at the other, and would burst out laughing. The Stenos were silent.
“What’s in the sack?” Metz pointed to the large satchel on Dart’s lap.
Charlie shrugged. “Personal effects, instruments. Only the barest, most minuscule, most Spartan necessities.”
Metz nodded and settled back again. It would, indeed, be nice to have the chimpanzee along on the trip. Dolphins were fine people, of course. But Mankind’s older client race had always struck him as better conversationalists. And dolphins didn’t play chess worth a damn.
It was an hour later that Metz recalled Charlie’s first words, on announcing his presence aboard. Just what did the chimp mean when he accused Takkata-Jim of “destroying evidence”? That was a very strange thing to say.
He put the question to Dart. “Ask the lieutenant,” Charlie suggested. “He seemed to know what I meant. We’re not exactly on speaking terms,” he grumbled.
Metz nodded earnestly. “I will ask him. As soon as we get settled on the island, I will certainly do that.”
63
Tom Orley
In the tangled shadows below the weed carpet, he made his way cautiously from airhole to airhole. The facemask helped him stretch a deep breath a long way, especially when he got near the island and had to search for an opening to the shore.
Tom finally crawled out onto land just as the orange sun Kthsemenee slipped behind a thick bank of clouds to the west. The long Kithrup day would last for a while yet, but he missed the direct warming of the sun’s rays. Evaporation-chill made him shiver as he pulled himself through a gap in the weeds and up the rocky shoreline. He climbed on his hands and knees to a hummock a few meters above the sea, and sat back heavily against the rough basalt. Then he pulled the breathing mask down around his neck.
The island seemed to rock slowly, as if it were a cork bobbing in the sea. It would take a while to grow used to solid ground again—just long enough, he realized ironically, for him to finish what he had to do here and get back into the water again.
He pulled clumps of green slime from his shoulders, and shivered as the damp slowly evaporated.
Hunger. Ah, there was that, too.
It took his mind off the damp and chill, at least. He thought about pulling out his last foodbar, but decided it could wait. It was all within a thousand kilometers that he could eat, barring what he might find in alien wreckage.
Smoke still rose where the small ET scout had crashed, just over the shoulder of the mountain. The thin stream climbed to merge high above with sooty drifts from the volcano’s crater. Once in a while, Tom heard the mountain itself growl.
Okay. Let’s move.
He gathered his feet beneath him and pushed off.
The world wavered unsteadily. Still, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself standing without too much trouble.
Maybe Jill’s right, he thought. Maybe I have reserves I’ve never touched before.
He turned to his right, took a step, and almost tripped. He recovered, then stumbled along the rocky slope, thankful for his webbed gloves when it came to climbing over jagged rocks, serrated like chipped flint. One step after another, he drew near the source of the smoke.
Topping a small rise, he came into view of the wreck.