the planetary crust samples may be of interest to you … there are traces of paleotechnology in recent layers. You ought to go see him right away.”
Sah’ot’s eyelids narrowed. “That isss interesting. I’d thought this planet was fallow far longer than would allow paleotech-ch remnants.”
But he dashed Dennie’s hopes. “Alasss. Digging for long-toasted garbage of past Kithrupan civilizations cannot be half as important as making contact with pre-sentients and establishing a proper patron claim for you humans. We fins might have new client cousins before even neo-dogs are finished! Heaven help the poor creatures if the Tandu or Soro or similar ilk collect them!
“Besides,” he soothed, “this is a chance for us to get to know each other better … and exchange professional information, of Course.”
Emerson D’Anite had to cough again.
“I’ve left the repairs for too long already, kids,” he said. His burr was back in force. “I think I’ll be gettin’ on back to my engines, and let you two discuss your plans.”
D’Anite’s grin was barely suppressed. Dennie swore eventual revenge. “Emerson!” she hissed.
“Yes, lass?” He looked back at her innocently.
She glared, “Oh … I’ll bet you haven’t a drop of Celtic blood in your body!”
The dark engineer smiled at her. “Why, bairn, didn’ ya know? All Scots are engineers, and all engineers are Scots.” He waved and swam off before Dennie could think of a reply. Trapped, she cursed, by a cliche!
When D’Anite was out of earshot Sah’ot sidled close to Dennie. “Shall we start planning our expedition?” His blowmouth was near her ear.
Dennie started. Suddenly she noticed that everyone had gone. Dennie’s heart beat faster, and her facemask seemed not to provide enough air.
“Not here we won’t!” She spun away and began swimming. “Let’s go to the wardroom. There are plotting boards … and airdomes! A man can breathe there!”
Sah’ot kept pace, uncomfortably close.
“Aw, Dennie …” he said, but he didn’t press. Instead, he began to sing a low, atonal, hybrid melody in a complex and obscure dialect of Trinary.
Against her will, Dennie found herself drawn into the song. It was strange, and eerily beautiful, and it took her several minutes to realize that it was also dirty as hell.
15
Stenos
Moki, Sreekah-pol, and Hakukka-jo spent their latest off-duty period as they had spent every one for weeks, complaining.
“He was down in my section again, t-today,” Sreekah-pol griped, “sticking his jaw into everybody’s work-k. Thinks he’s ssso-o-o discreet, but he fills the sound-scape with his Keneenk-k echoes!”
Moki nodded. There wasn’t any doubt who “he” was.
* Crying—Crooning
Talk, talk rhythms
* My group wags tails
To his Logic Logic! *
Hakukka-jo winced. Moki seldom spoke Anglic anymore, and his Trinary had a little too much Primal in it to be decent.
But Sreekah-pol obviously thought Moki’s point valid. “All the Tursiopsss worship Creideiki. They imitate him and try to act like Keneenk-k adeptsss! Even half of our Stenos seem just as swallowed by his spell!”
“Well, if he can get-t us out of here alive, I will forgive even his nosy inspections,” Hakkuka-jo suggested.
Mold tossed his head.
* Alive! Alive!
To deep, rich waters!
* Follow, Follow
A rough-toothed leader! *
“Will you make quiet-t-t?” Hakukka-jo swung about quickly to listen to echoes in the rest area. A few crewfen were gathered by the food machines. They gave no sign of having heard. “Heed your scatter! You’re already in trouble without clicking mutiny! I hear Doctor Metz has gone to Takkata-Jim about you!”
Moki smirked defiantly. Sreekah-pol agreed with Moki’s unspoken comment. “Metz won’t do nothing,” Sreekah-pol said. “It’sss common knowledge half the Stenos aboard were chosen by him. We’re his babiesss,” Sreekah-pol crooned. “With Orley and Tsh’t gone, and Hikahi in sick bay, the only one we gotta watch out for is the chief smartass himself!”
Hakkuka-jo looked about wildly. “You too? Look-k, will you be quiet? There comes K’tha-Jon!”
The other two turned the way he indicated. They saw a huge neo-fin swim out of a hull lift and head their way. Dolphins half his size got out of the giant’s way quickly.
“So what-t-t? He is of us!” Sreekah-pol said uncertainly.
“He’s also a bosun!” Hakkuka-jo answered hotly.
“He hates Tursiopsss smartasses, too!” Moki cut in in Anglic.
“If so he keeps it to himself! He knows how humans feel about racism!”
Moki looked away. The dark mottled dolphin was like a lot of fins in holding the patron race in a sort of superstitious dread. He countered weakly in Trinary.
* Ask the black men—
The brown and yellow men
* Ask the whales—
About human racism! *
“That was long ago!” Hakkuka-jo snapped. “And humans had no patrons to