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start leaving, before long this world will be less than a colony. We've already noticed unusual trouble in hir- ing new specialists." He looked away, upset and em- barra.s.sed.

"What do you think the reaction of our young peo- ple is going to be? Especially our brightest, away at University? There's no inst.i.tute of higher learning here.

You think they'll want to come back to face oblitera- tion?" He shook his head.

"This has to be stopped, and soon." How like Hwoshien he sounds, Cora thought. "Too many of our friends have died already." And business is off, she thought coolly. Then he said something which made her regret her harsh appraisal.

"I understand you've come from the last docking site of Rorqual Towne." She nodded. "The a.s.sistant mayor there was my cousin. We've all lost friends or relatives. For all its size, Mou'anui is a tightly knit community, even if our knitting is via satellite. We feel the loss of any of our fellow citizens personally.

But entire towns!"

"Whoever's responsible," Merced said confidently, "is a candidate for mindwipe."

"Mindwipe," the mayor echoed, nodding slowly. "If any of us lays hands on the perpetrators of these out- rages first . . ." He left the sentence unfinished, but elaboration was unnecessary. If the inhabitants got to the pirates first, there would not be enough of the outlaws left to reimprint with new personalities.

"Well, they won't find us unprepared!" he said loudly. "We've nearly eleven hundred permanent resi- dents here, and they all know what their day-status is.

We don't rely just on our automatics. Since the trouble started, we've had people watching the monitors twenty-five hours a day. We go on about our business, but with an eye on each other's backsides." Cora won- dered if the brave speechmaking was for their benefit or for the mayor's.

140 CACHALOT.

"What's Mataroreva doing?" The portly executive was looking past them, toward the far end of the dock.

"I haven't seen him since last Harvest Holiday."

Cora turned with the others. Their guide was bent over, conversing with the water. "We've a pair of orcas with us. He's probably chatting with them." She noticed he was wearing his translator.

"Drifters or a.s.sociates?" one of the other men in- quired.

"I don't know the precise meaning of those terms,"

Merced said, "but if you mean do they work with Sam and humans on any kind of regular basis, I'm fairly certain that they do, judging from what we've, ob- served thus far."

"Very nice," the enormous lady, H'ua, chirped.

"They're the best early-warning system you can have.

I've always been sorry we've never been able to in- duce one or two to a.s.sociate with Vai'oire."

Mataroreva rejoined them, confirmed that he had been talking with their black and white companions.

"I was setting them a patrol," he explained. "They'll circle the town about a kilometer out. How shallow is the reef you're working?"

"Breaks the surface in some places," Yermenov said. "I'm fisheries supervisor for the town, by the way. We're backed up to one end of the reef. It spreads out in a fan shape, more or less, from where we're sitting now. It's hundreds of meters across on the other side of town, expanding to kilometers at its

greatest diameter."

"What are you thinking of?" Cora asked the pen- sive Polynesian.

"Submersibles. They would be the most effective means of attack. If they're emission-silent or screened, or both, no satellite would detect them. And if they're small enough and fast enough . . ." He shrugged.

"They could be the explanation. The reef here will screen about a quarter of the ocean approach from

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any such underwater a.s.sault. I'm building an imagi- nary defensive ring around the town."

"It doesn't matter," Mayor Pua'ahorofenua said testily. "We'll keep our systems operative three hun- dred and sixty degrees. Just in case."

"That's just what I'd do if I were in your position."

To Cora, the simple fishing and gathering village was fascinating. On several of the ocean worlds on which she had worked, floating resorts had been con- structed on polymer rafts. Occasionally she had en- countered an isolated floating research facility. Never anything of this complexity, she mused. Not a com- plete community, with homes and places of work and recreation, of local commerce and schooling. Right now the illusion was that people actually worked and walked on solid land. It was at its most effective near the center of town, away from the sea. The walkway under her feet did not sway at all, yet she knew only meters of extruded polymer separated her from the depths. The compensators held the walkway and the buildings surrounding it as steady and secure as a padre's thoughts. If anything, it was more than natur- ally stable. The surface she trod was smooth and seamless, not shifting like the gla.s.s sands of Mou'anui Atoll.

Some of the buildings rose three stories from their raft foundations. Most roofs sported a fringe of small dish antennae, like split bivalves, to receive and broadcast via satellite.

"Looks like weather coming in," Mataroreva ob- served as they turned toward a long structure which the large woman had identified as her home.

H'ua glanced up at the darkening sky. "We're due for a day or two of rain. Nothing serious, according to the forecast. Mild winds and light chop. Besides, the rain is good for us."

Merced frowned. "Why? I thought the floating

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towns produced all the fresh water they required through desalinization."

"E mau roa-that's very true," H'ua replied. "For drinking and cooking and most other functions, the desalinated sea is quite sufficient." She winked at Cora and fluffed the mane of long black hair that framed her moon face. "But some of us traditionalists believe that for washing one's hair, rainwater is a necessity.

Rain is also good for the soul."

They pa.s.sed the house, turned up another street, and eventually reached a two-story, molded rooming complex. They entered a small reception area.

"You are our guests. It's not often Vai'oire has a chance to display its hospitality to off-world visitors."

H'ua looked at Rachael, nodded toward the object the girl held under one arm. "I understand you can actu- ally play that witch's lyre?"

Rachael looked surprised. "How could you know?

Many people carry them and can only practice with

them."

Mataroreva smiled hugely. "That was one of the less serious pieces of information I broadcast prior to our arrival."

"You would honor us with a concert," H'ua added.

Rachael looked embarra.s.sed. "Now, wait, I'm not a professional, only an enthusiastic amateur and-"

"Anyone who can make a neurophon do more than simply wail is more than a mere amateur." A huge hand patted Rachael on the back. "Anyway, you are a new and exotic quant.i.ty. Wear something skimpy.

If the music and projections are weak, the men won't notice." She eyed the girl approvingly. "They may not notice anyhow."

With a long, infectious, little-girl giggle, she turned to lumber from the reception station. "You all have a good time while you're here. Each room has its own autochef, communicator, and tridee. There are broad- casts from Mou'anui every day. If there's anything

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else you want, buzz me through your room corn on the local network. I'm one-forty-six. My husband's name is Taarii Maltzan, by the way. You won't get him. He's out working the reef with the rest of the gathering teams."

"Thank you," Cora barely remembered to say as the woman left them.

The door to her a.s.signed room was locked. That was to be expected. In an area as restricted and iso- lated as a floating town, privacy would be highly prized. The door opened at the sound of her voice and the application of her thumb to the recess in its frame.