Are there any schools near here, or do we have to go from a different island? Ive only got a week.
There was a school of blues a hundred kilometres south of here a day ago. Hang on, Ill ask the dolphins if theyre still there.
Dolphins?
Yes. We use dolphins to help with the fishing.
I didnt know you had servitor dolphins.
We dont. Theyre just plain ordinary dolphins with an affinity gene spliced in.
She followed his mind as he called. The answer was strange, more of a tune than phrases or emotions. A gentle harmony that quietened the soul. Accompanying senses flooded in. She was barrelling through solid greyness, seeing little, receiving sharp outlines of sound. Shapes moved around her like a galaxy of dark stars. She reached the surface and flashed through the ephemeral mirror into the dazzle and the emptiness where she hung with tingling skin stretched taut.
She felt her own body stretch luxuriously in tandem. The affinity link faded away, and she sighed in regret.
Dolphins are fun,Oenone said. They make you feel good. And they rejoice in their freedom.
Like voidhawks in water, you mean?
No! Well, yes. A bit.
Happy with being able to tease Oenone successfully, Syrinx turned to Mosul. It was very beautiful, but I didnt understand any of it.
Roughly translated from the scherzo, it means the whales are still within range. Itll take a days sailing if we use my boat. Good enough?
Excellent. Can your family spare you?
Yes. This is a slow month coming up. Weve been working our arses off for the last nine weeks preparing for the Norfolk trade, Im entitled to a rest.
So you think youre going to get some rest on that boat, do you?
I sincerely hope not. Although you didnt strike me as someone whod do the tourist routine. Not that the whales arent worth a look.
Syrinx turned to face the ocean again, squinting at the white cloud stripe where the sky merged with the water. Its a memory for someone else.my brother.
Mosul sensed the pain integral with the thought, and didnt pry.
Alkad Mzu walked up the stairs from her first-floor apartment in the StPelham starscraper, coming out into the circular foyer with its high, wave-curved ceiling and tall transparent walls looking out across the habitat parkland. A dozen or so other early risers were moving around the foyer, waiting for the lifts in the central pillar, or heading for the broad stairs around the rim which led down to the starscrapers tube stations. It was an hour after the axial light-tube had brought a timid rosy dawn to Tranquillitys interior; patches of fine mist were still lurking amid the deeper tracts of undergrowth. The parkland around each of the starscraper foyers was maintained as open meadow dotted with small copses of ornate trees and clumps of flowering bushes. She stepped out through the sliding doors into damp air flush with the perfume of midnight-blooming nicotiana. Colourful birds arrowed through the air, trilling loudly.
She set off down the raked sand path towards a lake two hundred metres away, with only the slightest hint of a limp in her walk. Flamingos were wading through the shallows between the thick clusters of white and blue lilies. Scarlet avian lizards floated among them; the xenoc creatures were smaller than the terrestrial birds, with brilliant turquoise eyes, holding themselves very still before suddenly diving below the glass-smooth surface. Both species began to move towards the shore as she walked past. Alkad reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out some stale biscuits, throwing the crumbs. The birds and lizard-things (she never had bothered to learn their name) gobbled them up hungrily. They were old friends, she had fed them every morning for the last twenty-six years.
Alkad found Tranquillitys interior tremendously relaxing, its sheer size went a long way to suggesting invulnerability. She wished she could find an apartment which was above the surface. Naked space outside the starscraper apartment window still made her shiver even after all this time. But repeated requests to be re-allocated inside were always politely refused by the habitat personality who said there were none. So she made do with the first-floor apartment which was close to the security of the shell, and spent long hours hiking or horse riding through the parkland during her spare time. Partly for her own frame of mind, and partly because it made life very difficult for the Intelligence agency watchers.
A couple of metres from the path a gardener servitor was ambling round an old tree stump which was now hidden beneath the shaggy coat of a stephanotis creeper. It was a heavily geneered tortoise, with a shell diameter of a metre. As well as enlarging the body, geneticists had added a secondary digestive system that turned dead vegetation into small pellets of nitrogen-rich compost which it excreted. It had also been given a pair of stumpy scaled arms which emerged from holes on either side of its neck, ending in pincerlike claws. As she watched it started to clip off the shrivelled tubular flowers and put them into its mouth.
Happy eating, she told it as she walked on.
Her destination was Glovers, a restaurant right on the edge of the lake. It was built out of bare wood, and the architect had given it a distinct Caribbean ancestry. The roof was a steep thatch, and there was a veranda on stilts actually over the water, wide enough for ten tables. Inside it had the same raw-cut appearance, with thirty tables, and a long counter running along the back where the chefs prepared the food over glowstone grills. During the evening it took three chefs to keep up with the orders; Glovers was popular with tourists and middle-management corporate executives.
When Alkad Mzu walked in there were ten people sitting eating. The usual breakfast crowd, bachelor types who couldnt be bothered to cook for themselves. An AV projection pillar stood on the counter between the tea urn and the coffee percolator, throwing off a weak moire glow. Vincent raised a hand in acknowledgement from behind the counter where he was whisking some eggs. He had been the morning cook for the last fifteen years. Alkad waved back, nodded to a regular couple she knew, then pointedly ignored the Edenist Intelligence operative, a ninety-seven-year-old called Samuel, who in turn pretended she didnt exist. Her table was in the corner, giving her a prime view out over the lake. It was set for one.
Sharleene, the waitress, came over with her iced orange juice and a bowl of bran. Eggs or pancakes today?
Alkad poured some milk onto the bran. Pancakes, thanks.
New face this morning, Sharleene said in a quiet voice. Right nob-case. She gave Alkad a secret little smile and went back to the bar.
Alkad ate a few spoonfuls of the bran, then sipped her orange, which gave her a chance to look round.
Lady Tessa Moncrieff was sitting by herself at a table near the bar where the smell of frying bacon and bubbling coffee was strongest. She was forty-six, a major in the Kulu ESA, and head of station in Tranquillity. She had a thin, tired face, and fading blonde hair cut into a not very stylish bob; her white blouse and grey skirt gave the impression of an office worker stuck in the promotion groove. Which was almost true. The Tranquillity assignment was one she had accepted with relish two years ago when shed been briefed on the nature of the observation duty and the underlying reason. It was a hellish responsibility, which meant shed finally been accepted in her rank. Reverse snobbery was a fact of life in all branches of the Kulu services, and anyone with a hereditary title had to work twice as hard as normal to prove themselves.