of Calafia, and later ships of space. Toshio had dreamt ships of every variety, including those of the powerful Galactic patron races, which he had hoped one day to see.
Now he dreamt of a dinghy.
The tiny human-dolphin colony of his homeworld had sent him out with Akki riding on the outrigger, his Calafian Academy button shining brightly under Alph’s sunshine. It started out a balmy day.
Only soon the weather darkened, and the sky all around became the same color as the water. The sea grew bilious, then black, then changed to vacuum, and suddenly there were stars everywhere.
He worried about air. Neither he nor Akki had suits. It was hard, trying to breathe vacuum!
He was about to turn for home when he saw them chasing him. Galactics, with heads of every shape and color—long, sinuous arms, or tiny, grasping claws, or worse—rowing toward him steadily. The sleek prows of their boats were as lambent as the starlight.
“What do you want?” he cried out, paddling hard to get away. (Hadn’t the boat started out with a motor?)
“Who is your master?!” They shouted in a thousand different tongues. “Is that He beside you?”
“Akki’s a fin! Fins are our clients! We uplifted them and set them free!”
“Then they are free,” the Galactics replied, drawing closer. “But who uplifted you? Who set you free?”
“I don’t know!” he screamed. “Maybe we did it ourselves!” He stroked harder as the Galactics laughed. He struggled to breathe the hard vacuum. “Leave me alone! Let me go home!”
Suddenly the fleet loomed ahead. The ships seemed bigger than moons—bigger than stars. They were dark and silent, and their aspect seemed to daunt even the Galactics.
Then the foremost of the ancient globes began to open. Toshio realized, then, that Akki was gone. His boat was gone. The ETs were gone.
He wanted to scream, but air was very dear.
A piercing whistle brought him around in a painful, disorienting instant. He sat up suddenly and felt the sled bounce unhappily with the motion. While his eyes made a blurred jumble of the horizon, a stiff breeze blew against his face. The tang of Kithrup greeted his nostrils.
“About time, Ladder-runner You gave us quite a scare.”
Toshio wavered, then saw Hikahi floating nearby, inspecting him with one eye.
“Are you okay, little Sharp-Eyes?”
“Um … yes. I think so.”
“Then you had better get to work on your hose. We had to nip it to give you air.”
Toshio felt the knife-edged cut. He noticed that both hands were neatly bandaged.
“Was anyone else hurt?” he asked as he felt through his thigh pocket for his repair kit.
“A few minor burns. We enjoyed the fight, after learning you were all right-t. Thank you for telling us about Ssassia. We’d never have looked there had you not been caught.
“They are cutting her loose now.”
Toshio knew he should be grateful to Hikahi for putting the misadventure in that light. By rights he should be getting a tongue-lashing for rashly leaving formation, and almost losing his life. But Toshio felt too lost to allow himself even gratitude to the dolphin lieutenant. “I suppose they haven’t found Phip-pit?”
“Of him there’s been no sign.”
The slow rotation of Kithrup had taken the sun past what would look like four o’clock, Earth time. Low clouds were gathering on the eastern horizon. There was a choppiness to the water that had been absent before.
“There may be a small squall later,” Hikahi said. “It may be unwise to use Earth instincts on another world, but I think we have nothing to fear.…”
Toshio looked up. There was something to the south … He squinted.
There it was again, a flash, and then another. Two tiny bursts of light followed in quick succession, almost invisible against the sea glare.
“How long has that been going on?” he gestured toward the southern sky.
“What do you mean, Toshio?”
“That flashing. Is it lightning?”
The fin’s eyes widened and her mouth curled slightly. Hikahi’s flukes churned and she rose up in the water to turn first one eye, then the other, toward the south.
“I detect nothing, Sharp-Eyes. Tell me what you see.”
“Multicolored flashes. Bursts of light. Lots of …” Toshio stopped wrapping his air hose. He stared for a moment, trying to remember.
“Hikahi,” he said slowly. “I think Akki called me during the fight with the weed. Did you get anything over your set?”
“No I didn’t, Toshio. But remember, we fins aren’t yet so good at abstract thought while fighting. T-try to recall what he said, please.”
Toshio touched his forehead. The encounter with the weed wasn’t something