Children of the Old Star (7 page)

After eating, he reminded himself to secure the pan under the sink so he could clean it later. From there, he walked across the three-foot wide hallway to the room with his narrow bunk. Sitting on the bunk, he reached across to a white plastic chest. Opening it, he retrieved a translator. He checked the black band and earpiece, making sure it was in working order. Finally, he put the band around his neck, securing it firmly, but not too tightly and placed the earpiece in his ear.

Ellis returned to the wheel, atop the cabin and checked his compass and his latitude. He nodded silent approval as he realized he was near the sperm whale feeding grounds. Using binoculars, he scanned the horizon. He grimaced when he didn't see anything. Waiting five minutes, he scanned again. On the southeastern horizon, he thought he saw a glimmer. Still looking through the binoculars, he turned toward the shimmering. He cursed as the boat lurched again, driving the binoculars against his forehead.

Rubbing his injured head, Ellis, kept his eyes on the sight as it came near enough to see. He was relieved to see the forward-pointing spray of a sperm whale spout. After watching several minutes, he saw, at first five, then seven, maybe eight spouts. A little disappointed that he hadn't found Richard, he was happy to see that he had located those who could help him. The spouts disappeared after a few minutes as the whales dove under the water to search for food.

Ellis slowed his craft as he approached the location of the whales. As he looked over the side at the dark depths, a mighty crash sounded from behind him. Ellis turned in time to be knocked over by the spray of a spout. He heard the patterned clicking of sperm whale speech. The clicking was rapid and arrhythmic almost like radio static. Only an experienced ear could hear the anger in the voice. Struggling to his feet, Ellis turned on the translator device.

"You disturb the children with your motor, human. Be gone!” The translator said the words, but gave none of the finesse that could be heard in the clicks. Looking over the side of the boat, Ellis could see the ten-foot long black head of a mother sperm whale.

"Forgive me,” called Ellis. He could hear the clicks issuing from the translator as it rendered his words into the language of the whales. Ellis rushed to the wheel and activated the antigraviton generators of the tiny boat. The whale let out another spout.

Another immense, black head arose from the deep. “The cycle continues,” it said. “Be gone!"

"I'm looking for one of your kind.” Ellis held his hands over his head protecting himself from another onslaught of spray. The broad head of the first whale disappeared, replaced by the arched form of its glimmering back. Smaller forms began to appear some distance from the boat. Each one spraying. Ellis gasped at the sight.

"None of our kind are interested,” said the second whale. “The hunt is the art.” She was smaller than the first, not as old. She turned toward the pod of younger whales, spraying as she went.

Just as Ellis’ shoulders sank, a third whale head appeared near the boat. Again, he was drenched by spray. This whale had a slightly wrinkled brow, making her look more matronly. “The cycle continues,” she said.

"The cycle continues,” repeated Ellis solemnly.

"You are looking for one of our kind,” she clicked.

"I look for the old bull, Richard.” Ellis brushed wet hair from his forehead.

"The one the humans call Richard is 47 miles afin port,” said the matronly whale. “The cycle resumes,” she said, giving another spout. With that, she dove under the surface, her tail raised in the air, waving to Ellis.

"The cycle resumes,” said Ellis as he looked at the general direction of the adult whales. Using their fins as a pointer, he aimed his tiny craft where Richard would be.

Passing by the pod of whales, Ellis heard snippets of stories told to the young whales. The stories were of the old times, when the violent chattering land apes came hunting. According to the stories, the apes were so stupid, it took them nearly seven hundred years to learn to talk. Even then, they had to use devices like the ones Ellis wore. As Ellis continued out to sea, he felt the old twang of guilt that came when he considered that his ancestors made their fortune hunting one of the other intelligent species of Earth.

Continuing toward Richard's hunting grounds, Ellis returned the boat to the water to increase its speed and again stepped below, pondering the fact that Earth was unusually blessed by having three fully self-aware species; the sperm whale, the humpback, and man. Even in the thirtieth century, most people did not fully understand the subtleties of whale speech. To most, the words “the cycle continues” and “the cycle resumes” were a simple litany, or at best, a greeting. In fact, embedded in the litany were calculations based on temperature, density and salinity factors that determined just where the giant squid and fish were that the whales hunted for food. The hunt is the art.

Humans owed a great debt to both intelligent species of whale. If humans had hunted them to extinction, they likely would not have developed interstellar travel. Just as Newton realized the existence of gravity by being bonked on the head with an apple, Quinn had realized the nature of gravity and its dimensionality by listening to humpback whale speech and understanding the wave patterns produced.

Again, rummaging through his plastic sea chest, Ellis found dry clothes and a yellow rain slicker. Peeling himself out of his dripping clothes, he pulled on a warm, red flannel shirt and blue woolen pants. He replaced his drenched leather shoes with dry socks and rubber boots. Returning to the deck, he scanned the horizon. After only a few minutes, he saw a lone spout, almost nearer than he expected.

As he approached, he saw the great, bifurcated tail go below the surface of the water. Again, he took the boat an inch out of the water, letting it sit silently. Donning the slicker, he waited nearly twenty minutes, watching white clouds build on the horizon.

With a crash, like thunder, he saw a dark gray form lift itself clear out of the water pointing skyward. A waterfall streamed off the glistening body. Ellis caught his breath and held the ship's railing tightly as the body arched and fell back into the water. A spout of water and air buffeted the boat along with a mighty clang. Through the noise, Ellis heard clicking and, “The cycle continues, old friend!"

"It has been a long time, my friend,” said Ellis as he watched the 62-foot long spermaceti whale swim alongside the boat.

The whale's eye emerged from the water. “You are alone, young Ellis. Where is your father?"

Ellis took a deep shuddering breath. “Dead, killed in space by something we call the Cluster."

"I shall mourn him,” said Richard. His head went below the waves, revealing a wrinkled back. The great tail rose from the water. Richard surfaced after a minute on the other side of the boat. Ellis stepped to the other side and leaned over the railing. Richard rose far enough from the water so Ellis could touch him. He sighed and a tear escaped merging with the water.

"Whales know not the ways of space, young Ellis,” said Richard. “Tell me of this Cluster."

"It is a great ball of silver spheres, bigger than you, bigger than your dead brothers, the blue whales. They move through space. Even as we speak, my people and the other peoples of the stars, the Titans, Rd'dyggians, Zahari, all are fighting them."

Richard spouted and clicked, just short of angry. “Why do you fight? Always the same with the tool builders. The art is the death."

Kneeling down by the railing, Ellis swished the water lazily with his left hand. “We tried to talk to the Cluster, peacefully. They began killing all our people."

"Now you know how we feel,” said Richard. “Maybe now the tool builders begin to understand.” Another great spray came from the whale's spout.

"Maybe
I
begin to understand at least.” Ellis pondered the whale's words. “We see the Cluster as evil, but maybe they're not."

"But maybe they are,” Richard clicked. “Whales know not the ways of space."

"I don't think the Cluster's evil.” Ellis shook his head. “I think one of them has spoken to me."

The whale swished its tail lazily back and forth. “What did it say?"

"I don't know.” Looking toward the bright blue sky, Ellis formed his words. “It seemed to speak in emotional metaphor."

"Like the humpbacks,” mused Richard. “The art is the song."

Mark Ellis looked at the whale, stunned. “Yes,” he said slowly with a newfound understanding. “Just like the humpbacks. The art
is
the song.” As Richard dove under the boat again, Ellis stood and ambled back to the other side. Stroking his beard, he pondered the clouds. When Richard rose again, spouting, Ellis looked at him. “Do you think the humpbacks could help me understand?"

"The art is the song, nothing more.” Richard's wrinkled form undulated slightly. “They know no more of the ways of space than do I. Besides, young Ellis, to them, man merely chatters. The art is the death."

Ellis sighed. “Can you help me?"

The whale spouted twice, loudly. “I doubt it, the art is the hunt."

"I think the art might be the hunt for the Cluster.” Ellis tugged at his auburn beard.

"The art is also the song, you said."

"The art might also be death.” Again, Ellis let his eyes wander to the clouds. “They don't leave much behind."

"Then you must find those who understand all three, to understand this Cluster.” Richard raised his massive head completely out of the water, bobbing it up and down. “The cycle resumes.” With that Richard once again dove below the waves.

Rapping his fingers on the railing, Ellis stood. He walked back to the wheel and retrieved his pipe, tamping the ash into the ocean. He grinned, reminded of the Native American legend that told that Nantucket had been created when god had emptied his pipe into the ocean. Retrieving a deck chair, Ellis tamped a fresh patch of tobacco into his pipe, lighted it and settled in for the wait. The cycle resumed; Richard had gone down to hunt more squid. Using his tongue, he would bait the animals. When he felt them hit, he would clang loudly, stunning them and close the trap. When ready for more air, he would rise to the surface; the cycle continued.

After nearly fifteen minutes, Richard again rose to the surface, less flamboyantly than before. “The cycle continues,” he said. Richard let his whole body float to the top. Ellis couldn't help but gasp when he saw the entire 62-foot long scarred and wrinkled body.

"The cycle continues, old friend,” said Ellis, nodding appreciatively. “Who would understand the three arts; the hunt, the death and the song?"

Clicking, Richard rolled slightly to his side. “The Rd'dyggians."

"I thought whales knew not the ways of space.” Ellis smirked.

Richard turned on his belly again, blowing a waterspout. The water came down in a shower, drenching the smoldering pipe. “Whales know not the ways of space. Whales do know some of the people. Only the Rd'dyggians speak to the humpbacks, the spermaceti, and man. From them you can learn."

Ellis removed the sopping pipe from his mouth. “I only really know one Rd'dyggian,” he said, remembering the mission to Sufiro. “A warrior named Arepno."

"Arepno, I know not.” Richard was silent for a moment. “Seek the philosopher, not the warrior."

"I don't know any Rd'dyggian philosophers,” shrugged Ellis. He put the drenched pipe in his pocket.

"I do,” clicked the whale. “Seek G'Liat. He knows the song, the hunt, and the death."

"How would I find him?” asked Ellis, excitedly.

"Whales know not the ways of space,” said Richard. “You must use
your
knowledge to find him."

"Thank you, old friend.” Ellis noticed that the sun was approaching the tops of the clouds on the horizon. “It's about time for me to be going."

"For me as well,” said Richard. “I hope to see you again. The cycle resumes.” With that, Richard sunk below the water. Ellis returned to the controls and lowered the boat to the ocean's surface. Just as he did, he heard a great crash of water. Again, Richard rose from the waves, leaping higher than Ellis had ever seen before. The water cascaded off his body and onto the boat's deck. In the air, the whale performed a miraculous spin and turn and returned to the sea forehead first, his tail waving goodbye. Laughing, Ellis turned his boat to starboard and made for Nantucket.

REVEREND CLYDE'S OLD TIME CLUSTER REVIVAL

Clyde McClintlock had never considered himself a very religious man. It was true that his parents like many civic-minded Iowans from Earth, went to the mosque and followed the way of Islam. Clyde was familiar with the ways of Allah and his prophet Mohammed. However, his parents seemed to attend the services more out of fashion than out of any actual belief. That seemed true of most people Clyde knew, whether Moslem, Jewish, or Christian. As a citizen of the American Sector, it only mattered that you belonged to one of the sanctioned religions. When Clyde's parents moved to Sufiro, they kept their morality but pretty well dropped the religious trappings. Clyde had been ten years old when that happened.

At the tender age of ten, Clyde was not all that comfortable with the apparent change of belief his parents had undergone. It had confused him and made him wonder about many things adults said. Seven years later, Clyde moved to Earth, to find his roots, figure out just who he was and what he did believe in. Clyde found the Gaean Navy.

In the Navy, Clyde discovered discipline and a world order like none he had ever known before. In the academy, his professors gave him a defined and straightforward sense of what was right and wrong. Quite simply, what his superior officers said was right. Anything else was wrong. This was a world Clyde could understand and, for a time, he was happy.

The first time Clyde's faith in the military was thrown into question was when he was aboard a Gaean destroyer, hunting privateers. His ship, the
Beacon
, was in pursuit of a pirate vessel. The captain had given explicit orders not to fire on the pirate ship. However, the
Beacon's
gunner had scanned a rear-mounted weapon's rack disguised as a thruster pack. Without informing the captain, the gunner had fired, destroying the weapon's mounting as well as the pirate ship. Clyde, who had been piloting the ship, had been shocked at the loss of life and the callous action. However, the sensor logs bore out the gunner's story. The gunner, who had violated the sacred principle of following orders, had been granted a promotion. Meanwhile, Clyde remained pilot of the tiny destroyer for another five years, continuing to follow orders, never coming to notice.