Startide Rising (The Uplift Saga, #2) - David Brin Page 0,3

an alien planet—the pungence of secondary growth on an older island, the heavy, oily odor of a drill-tree in its peak of activity.

And overlying everything was the slight tang of metal.

It shouldn’t harm them, they’d said back at the ship, least of all Toshio in his waterproof suit. Chelating would remove all of the heavy elements one might reasonably expect to absorb on a scouting trip … though no one knew for sure what other hazards this world might offer.

But if they were forced to stay for months? Years?

In that case the medical facilities of the Streaker could not deal with the slow accumulation of metals. In time they would start to pray for the Jophur, or Thennanin, or Soro ships to come and take them away for interrogation or worse—simply to get off a beautiful planet that was slowly killing them.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought to dwell on. Toshio was glad when Brookida drifted alongside.

“Why did Hikahi have me come up to the surface?” he asked the elderly dolphin. “I thought I was to stay out of sight below in case there were already spy-sats overhead.”

Brookida sighed. “I suppose she thinkss you need a break. Besides, who could spot as small a machine as the ssled, with so much metal around?”

Toshio shrugged. “Well, it was nice of her.”

Brookida rose up in the water, balancing on a series of churning tail-strokes. “I hear Hikahi,” he announced. “And here she isss.”

Two dolphins came in fast from the north, one light gray in appearance, the other dark and mottled. Through his headphones Toshio heard the voice of the party leader.

* Flame-fluked I—Hikahi call you *

* Dorsal listening—ventral doing *

* Laugh at my words—but first obey them *

* Gather at the sled—and listen! *

Hikahi and Ssattatta circled the rest of the party once, then came to rest in front of the assembled expedition.

Among mankind’s gifts to the neo-dolphin had been an expanded repertoire of facial expression. A mere five hundred years of genetic engineering could not do for the porpoise what a million years of evolution had for man. Fins still expressed most of their feelings in sound and motion. But they were no longer frozen in what humans had taken (in some degree of truth) to be a grin of perpetual amusement. Fins were capable now of looking worried. Toshio might have chosen Hikahi’s present expression as a classic example of delphin chagrin.

“Phip-pit has disappeared,” Hikahi announced.

“I heard him cry out, over to the south of me, then nothing. He was searching for Ssassia, who disappeared earlier in the same direction. We will forego mapping and metals search to go and find them. All will be issued weaponss.”

There was a general sussuration of discontent. It meant the fins would have to put on the harnesses they had only just had the pleasure of removing, on leaving the ship. Still, even Keepiru recognized this was urgent business.

Toshio was briefly busy dropping harnesses into the water. They were supposed to spread naturally into a shape suitable for a dolphin to slip into, but inevitably one or two fins needed help fitting the small nerve amplifier socket each had just above the left eye.

Toshio finished quickly, with the unconscious ease of long practice. He was worried about Ssassia, a gentle fin who had always been kind and soft-spoken to him.

“Hikahi,” he said as the leader swam past, “do you want me to call the ship?”

The small gray Tursiops female rose up to face Toshio. “Negative, Ladder-runner. We obey orders. Spy-sats may be high already. Set your speed sled to return on auto if we fail to survive what is in the sssoutheast.”

“But no one’s seen any big animals …”

“That-t is only one possibility. I want word to get back whatever our doom … should even rescue fever strike us all.”

Toshio felt cold at the mention of “rescue fever.” He had heard of it, of course. It was something he had no desire to witness.

They set forth in skirmish formation. The fins took turns gliding along the surface, then diving to swim alongside Toshio. The ocean bottom was like an endless series of snake tracks—pitted by strange pock-holes like deep craters, darkly ominous. In the valleys Toshio could usually see bottom, a hundred meters or so below, gloomy with dark blue tendrils.

The long ridges were topped at intervals by the shining metal-mounds, like hulking castles of shimmering, spongy armor. Many were covered with thick, ivy-like growths in which Kithrupan fishes nested and bred. One metal-mound appeared