171.

"No, I'm not trying to confuse you." Dawn sighed,

partly out of resignation, partly from exasperation.

"Then tell me straight what you're talking about."

The young woman hesitated. "I think it may be

better for you if you find out for yourself. I'm not sure

you'd believe me anyway."

"You're still doing a poor job of putting me off through confusion and mystery."

"Never mind." Dawn turned to swim away. "For- get it."

"Just a minute." Cora put out a restraining hand.

"Whatever happens, you should know that I'm terri- bly sorry for the destruction to your life here. I know that most everyone you liked or loved probably perished with that town. But I've been through too much in my own life to give up a chance at a man like Sam. I've tried to hate him for being with you, but I can't." She shrugged. "There's no such thing as a sci- entific approach to love."

"I'm not asking you to give up anything," the girl insisted. Then she smiled shyly and unexpectedly. "In fact, though you probably won't believe this, either, I wish you the best of luck."

"Thanks. I wish you the same."

Dawn shook her head again, slowly. "You still don't understand. Someday I hope you will."

173.

XII.

I'm beginning to get itchy, and it's not from living in this gelsuit," Merced said as he and Cora sat atop the familiar bemmy. They had their masks pushed back and were breathing real air. It seemed unnatural to Cora. The gaseous world was cold and harsh com- pared with the gentle h.o.m.ogenized environment be- low the surface. She was anxious to return there.

"There should have been an inquiry by now," Mer- ced continued. "A skimmer ought to have arrived to check up."

"Not necessarily," Cora argued. "It may not arrive for another two, three days. Even if they tried to con- tact the town immediately after the disaster, it would still take time to decide that the quiet was due to some catastrophe rather than, say, to a power failure, and then more time to get a ship out here. Remember how long it took us."

"Why a ship? A skimmer would be faster."

"I know, but a skimmer doesn't have the carrying capacity of a-" She stopped in midsentence, staring.

Merced tried to see what had caught her attention.

He located it as she identified it. "A skimmer would be faster, but not if there's a ship in the area."

Two dark blotches marred the southwestern hori- zon. Merced had a bad moment when he thought they might be whales coming back to make certain no one

had escaped. Then the slight spray from their flanks became visible. "Suprafoils!" He slipped his mask back over his head. "Thank goodness. I was getting sick of field work. Let's inform the others."

Together they dropped into the water, where their transmissions could be picked up by their companions.

Rachael was the first to rejoin them, towing the crate containing her neurophon. "I can play again! It's been too long."

"Withdrawal symptoms?" Cora commented sardo- ically.

"Yes." Rachael was too excited to respond to the sarcasm.

Dawn arrived next, followed closely by Mataroreva.

"You sure they're foils?" He spoke to Merced.

"Unmistakable. Two of them."

"That's funny." He sounded puzzled. "I would've thought a skimmer from Mou'anui would have arrived first. It's too soon for a foil from Administration Dis- patch."

"Probably these were fishing in the area," Dawn suggested hopefully, "When Mou'anui got the word."

Her voice dropped. "Or rather, didn't get the word.

They would come here if a general broadcast was made, as it should have been."

"Makes sense," Mataroreva conceded. "We'll know in a few minutes what they're doing here."

Cora frowned at him. "What are you talking about, Sam? You still subscribing to the theory that humans are somehow directing the baleens?"

"I'm not subscribing to anything except caution,"

he shot back. "We've nothing to lose by spending a little while longer in the water. We can wait a bit more. And watch."

They did so, cl.u.s.tered tightly behind the bemmy, their heads just above water. The pair of foils slowed, settled into the nearby section of sea where the town of Vai'oire had floated in peace not long ago.

174 .

Distant splashings reached the hidden watchers. ., Divers in gelsuits were dropping from both foils. Fran- tic activity marred the smooth lines of the two ships.

Cora pushed back her mask, spoke directly to Mataroreva, as he had insisted they all do. Suit-unit transmissions, he had declared, were too easily de- tected.

"See? They're looking for survivors." She moved as

if to start around the mound of hexalate.

He put out a hand, grabbed her. "Maybe." He stared thoughtfully across the thin ridge that broke the sur- face. "But if they're searching for survivors, why

haven't they broadcast their location?"

"Maybe they're just investigating, after receiving or- ders from Mou'anui to do so," Rachael suggested.

"Maybe they know from previous experience that

there are no survivors."

"Investigating for what?" Mataroreva went silent.

They had their answer soon enough. Divers began returning to their ships. Blocks and winches, magnetic and straight, were dropped over the sides of each ves- sel. Soon the men were hoisting individual crates ana bits of selected debris on deck. The flotsam was then neatly stacked and tied down. It had the air of a well- practiced operation.

"Instrumentation." Mataroreva squinted across the sunlit surface. "Ah, and there's a couple of freshly sealed containers. What do they look like to you,