ARC: Under Nameless Stars (6 page)

SEVEN

Zenn was back inside the cabin a short time later when Jules returned, carrying a large tray draped with a linen cloth. Beneath the cloth was an array of plates and dishes containing pasta with a tomato sauce, various vegetables, half a loaf of bread and several other varieties of food Zenn couldn’t identify. Jules explained he had eaten while in the dining hall, and he now watched her intently as she ate, neither of them speaking. She devoured almost all of the food she could recognize, and some she couldn’t, until she was unable to eat any more. She put a small dish on the floor for Katie, which the rikkaset sniffed skeptically.

Zenn waved at Katie to get her attention, then spoke aloud to her, talking slowly and exaggerating each word.

“Katie? This is good food for Katie.”

The rikkaset watched Zenn intently, then signed back at her.

“Certain good? Good for Katie?”

“Yes. Katie will like.”

“She can hear you, this Katie?” Jules said. “I thought she had no hearing?”

“We’ve been working on lip-reading,” Zenn said. “We’ve only just started, but she’s picking it up really fast.”

“She has a smart brain in her, then.” Jules peered down at the rikkaset. “Well done to you, Katie.”

Katie ignored him and took a tentative bite of the food before her. Deciding it would do, she ate eagerly.

Jules pointed to another covered dish on the tray – a treat for Zenn. He held the dish out for her approval. On it was what looked like a small, leathery-skinned fruit with a delicate orange-and-aquamarine coloring.

“Can you guess what this is?” he said. Zenn peered more closely at the dish and its contents. “I will wager you cannot guess,” he said, taking out his relay and brandishing it at her. “Shall we say one unit? As a wager between friends?”

Zenn laughed and took out her own relay.

“Only one unit?” she said. “How about two… between friends?”

Jules bobbed his head in agreement.

“So, how many guesses do I get?” Yes, eating had definitely left her feeling much more like herself.

“Only one guess, of course. It is a wager.”

“Just one guess?” she said. “Gee… let’s see… could it be… a Lyran Rooloo?”

Jules’s beaked jaw fell open for a second, then snapped shut.

“You knew its identity the full time.”

“Yup. But the betting was your idea,” she said, smiling as she watched Jules’s relay blink on and off again, transferring the winnings to her account.

“Yes, true enough and well done,” he exclaimed. So, dolphins were good sports, at least.

“Answer me this: have you ever coaxed out a Rooloo?” She shook her head no. “It’s an experience to be had.” He crossed his mech-arms in front of him and watched her. She gave the tiny sphere a tentative poke with her finger.

“Hold it in the palm of your hand,” Jules instructed. She obeyed. It was dry and cool to the touch. “Now breathe on it.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

“Like you were breathing on a mirror to clean the surface.”

She opened her mouth wide, held the fruit up to her face and huffed on it. The Rooloo vibrated softly against her palm and, with a soft “whump” of rind and juices, it exploded. Zenn jerked back in her chair, her face covered with a sticky wetness like popped bubblegum, except the gum was moving – it was alive! In alarm, Katie leaped up on the table and uttered a fierce little growl at the offending Rooloo.

Zenn peeled the clinging thing from her cheek and held it at arm’s length. It looked like a sort of turquoise starfish, and it quivered and wobbled as it tried to get a grip on her hand and crawl up her arm. With some effort, she scraped it off into her empty water glass. She put a plate on top to keep it from getting out. Katie eyed it closely until she was certain it couldn’t escape. Then she hopped off the table and returned to her dish of food.

Zenn realized that the chirping sound in her ears was Jules’s staccato laughter. Across the table, he was shaking his large head rapidly up and down, obviously relishing his little surprise.

“You did that on purpose,” Zenn said. She mopped at herself with a napkin. Jules had stopped laughing, but he couldn’t keep his head from bobbing with pleasure.

“You should have seen your countenance and its expression. This was an excellent example of humor based on the unexpected. Do admit it.”

“I don’t admit anything of the kind.” But Zenn’s outrage was now totally manufactured, and she struggled to keep herself from laughing. The stories she had heard about the dolphin sense of humor were apparently true. “You might have warned me.”

“But that would entirely undo the purpose of humor premised on the element of surprise.”

“Oh, right, silly me. So, what do we do with this little guy?” She pointed to the Rooloo crawling up the inside of her water glass. Jules bent down to watch it, leaning forward slightly. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Zenn told him earnestly. She snatched up the glass. “You’re not eating him. He’s way too cute. I know it’s just walking fruit, but it’s still too cute to eat.”

“Did I say I intended to ingest it?” Jules protested, a little too strongly. “I have seen that the galley kitchen here keeps a Rooloo breeding colony. We’ll purchase its freedom and put it out to pasture. There is rind-juice on your chin…” Jules picked up his napkin and handed it across the table to her. “My First Promised enjoyed Rooloo. It was a favorite of hers, even though it was not fish-based. We were to serve it at the bonding ceremony.”

Zenn took the napkin from him and dabbed at her face. “If you don’t mind my asking, Jules, how old are you?”

“I am eighteen years on the moonrise of the coming migration season,” he told her. “But as I grew up at the institute facilities away from my birth pod, I won’t undergo the usual initiation.”

“The institute?”

“Yes, the Claussen Institute. It is a research unit of the TerrAqua Corporation. TerrAqua is the company that designed and built this walksuit. The business was owned by Per Claussen. He was kind to me, much like a father, in fact. But he died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“During my growing-up period at the Institute, I assisted in refining the workings of the newer suit models.” He raised both mech-arms. “Upon Per’s passing, he arranged to leave me this newest model. As well as a good deal of his money.” The dolphin lowered his head slightly, his gaze growing distant. “In any case, it is his gift of funds I now use to pay for this starship ride and this comfortable cabin. It was his final kindness to me.”

“But you were taken away from your family when you were young? And you didn’t mind? You didn’t miss your family group, your dolphin pod’s initiation and all?”

He leaned closer to her and dropped his voice. “Don’t tell it far abroad, but the pod initiation is a ritual I am pleased to avoid. There is no small amount of biting and slapping with tail-flukes involved. And, as you have seen, with my years of practice, I am most expert in the operation of my walksuit. This mobility upon land was a… great side-benefit… to…”

The dolphin’s voice trailed off and he slowly closed one eye as his beaked chin dropped. A sound like a softly deflating tire emanated from the blowhole on the top of his head. It sounded like… snoring.

“Yes, I’m sure it was a benefit,” she said. “And so, were there other dolphins at the Institute?” Jules didn’t respond, but continued his soft, rhythmic breathing.

Zenn was about to ask again when she noticed one of his mech-arms had dropped to his side, and the hand-unit was trembling in little waving motions. She leaned over the table to ask him if he was OK, and saw that he had one eye open. It followed her movement. Then, the other eye popped open and he sat upright.

“Oh… excuse me,” he said, clearing his blowhole by exhaling in a short burst. “I dozed away for a second.”

“You were asleep? But your eye was open. I saw you watching me.”

“It’s how dolphins sleep.”

“With one eye open?”

“Yes. The term is called unihemispheric slow wave sleep. ‘Uni’ meaning ‘one’, ‘hemi’ meaning ‘half’, and ‘sphere’ indicating–”

“Jules. I know what a sphere is.”

“Naturally you do. In any case, this kind of sleep arose in dolphins to permit us to rest and yet breathe at the same moment. One half of our brain goes into light sleep mode while the other stays awake. One eye is open to keep us oriented toward the water surface so we can breathe and watch for predators – such as sharks and, before the Cetacean Cooperation Treaty, killer whales. First, we rest one side of the brain; next, the other. Generally this goes in eight-hour cycles during nighttime, as with humans. But I’ve been off my cycle a little lately. With the trip and its dislocations.”

“I’ve heard about this. But only in birds. This isn’t just more dolphin humor? Like, ‘ha ha, humans will believe anything’?”

“I assure you it’s not.” He sounded indignant. “If I were executing a verbal jibe, the humor would be self-evident.”
“Right,” Zenn said. “And I’m sorry. I know you weren’t expecting to have a roommate on this trip. I’m sure that’s not helping your internal clock get back to a regular routine.”

“You mustn’t apologize. It was my decision,” he said. “But yes, I believe we can both use some sleep rest. Let us make a decision to eat our breakfast meal together when we awaken. We can talk about what our plans will be. Yes?”

“I’d like that,” Zenn told him, and with a small tip of his head that looked something like a bow, the dolphin went into his bedroom.

In her own room, Zenn fell back on the bed. Katie came in and hopped up to lie on the pillow beside her, just as she’d always done back at the cloister. Zenn thought again about contacting Otha, and how she would accomplish this. She thought of dolphins reading old Earther adventure novels. She thought of her father, of the Skirni who had taken him – the Skirni who was possibly sleeping right now in his own cabin several decks below. The sounds of the starship’s mechanical systems rumbled and creaked distantly, like a giant metal beast, restless in the dark cold of space. She wondered yet again what had become of Liam. Before any other thoughts came, she was asleep.

After Jules had brought her breakfast the next day, she entered the suite’s sitting room just as the dolphin opened the door to the corridor. In the passageway beyond stood a Gliesian steward pushing a small cart piled with dishes.

“Your dishes, please?” he said. “If you are finished and have any dishes I would be happy to–”

Before Zenn could withdraw back into her room, the steward spotted her. She froze.

“You,” he said, grapefruit-eyes going wide.

Katie, who’d been lying on the back of one of the easy chairs, leaped to her feet and went into rikkaset blending mode, vanishing from sight.

Zenn felt the blood drain from her face. She’d been discovered. Her stomach clenched, an acid taste filling her mouth. Caught. After coming so far. How could she be so careless, so stupid, to let herself be seen this way?

Then the steward’s wide, amphibian face split in a broad, needle-toothed grin.

“Bodine? The animal doctor. Yes?”

It was the steward from the cargo bay – that’s how he knew her. Was she safe?

“Yes, that’s me. And you… are Yed, right?” she said, forcing a smile. Jules looked at her, saying nothing. He stepped aside to let the steward enter.

“Yed, yes. You are finding your time with us pleasant so far?” Zenn heaved a sigh. She hadn’t been found out. The steward set a metal tray on the table and began stacking their dishes on it. Katie rematerialized and cautiously approached the little Gliesian, sniffing.

The steward was apparently familiar with rikkasets.

“Ah. You have a vanishing-appearing rat-cat. These are magical animals, are they not?”

“Well, no, not magical,” Zenn said. “Their fur bends light so they can camouflage themselves, that’s all.”

“Yes. Magical. May I ask if you have everything you require?”

“I do. Thank you.”

“And you as well, Guest Vancouver? All you needs are met?”

“I am well taken care of. The cabin is more than satisfactory.”

“And, Guest Bodine, your own cabin is to your liking? For you and your father Bodine?”

“Um, yes. My father and I are quite happy. With our cabin.
On deck eight
.” She shot Jules a look, hoping he’d catch on.

“So, you and Guest Vancouver are long acquainted?”

“Yes,” Jules said. “Because of course she is my slave–”

“No,” Zenn cut him off. Confused, the steward looked from one of them to the other. “I mean, yes,” Zenn stammered. “I’m… slavishly devoted to Mister Vancouver. As a good friend should be. It’s a figure of speech.”

“Of speech, necessarily,” the steward said, nodding, but still looking puzzled.

“Yes. Indeed. We share a long and well-known friendship,” Jules said, realizing her intention. The steward’s eyes took on the smallest shadow of suspicion at this odd exchange. Jules noticed and quickly produced his relay. “And, to signify our satisfaction in all areas of accommodation and service, you must allow me to give you a monetary tip.” The steward’s face brightened, any sign of doubt instantly erased.

“Thank you, sir! For your generosity,” he said, holding up his own relay. “Guest Bodine, it is a happy accident, my finding you. If I may impose, might I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“As an animal doctor, would you perhaps know of the creatures called mudlark?”

“Mudlarks. Yes. They’re native to Tandua.”

“I’ve never heard this name,” Jules said.

“It’s a little misleading,” Zenn said. “They’re actually fungal animoids. A plant-animal hybrid. Sort of like a big mushroom. They inhabit the tidal zones of Tandua’s Great Swamp Sea.”

“But larks are avians of Earth,” Jules said. “Do these mudlarks fly?”

“No. But they sing. That’s where the name comes from,” Zenn told him. “And they’re mimics. Like parrots or mynah birds. But instead of just being able to copy a person’s voice or a single melody, they can mimic dozens of sounds at once. They can be trained to sing entire symphonies, and they sound just like the real thing. I’ve only heard recordings, but it’s really amazing.”

“My asking is due to our Captain. Captain Oolo,” the steward explained. “For, you see, he possesses such a mudlark. But it has a problem lately. It languishes and does not eat. It occurred to me that you, as an animal physician, might be in a position to determine what ails it.”

Zenn understood now what was on the steward’s mind and began to wonder if maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned being an exovet.

“But does not the
Helen
have its own creature-physician aboard?” Jules asked.

“Yes, I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” The steward regarded her blankly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to make the ship’s exovet mad by treating one of their patients. It wouldn’t be professional.”

“Ah, no, this is not a concern,” the steward said eagerly. “Our ship’s animal doctor is absent for this most recent leg of our voyage. He left us at Zeta Reticuli and was unable to rejoin. So you can see the Captain would clearly be most obliged for you looking in upon his pet animal. He cares deeply for it.”

Leaving Jules’s cabin would be a risk. But, on the other hand, there might be a useful trade-off to be had. A steward’s goodwill could be a valuable commodity.

“I suppose I could take a look at it. But I might ask for a small favor in return.”

“But of course. What service can I perform for you?”

“I’d like you to find out some information for me. About a passenger. A Skirni. I have his cabin number.”

The steward hesitated at this, his wide lips pursing.

Jules saw his reluctance, and raised his credit relay.

“Yes. It is crucial we detect important details about this passenger. Will five credits facilitate this undertaking?”

The steward raised his relay, reluctance replaced by a conspiratorial smile.

“This is most suitable, and I thank you, Guest Vancouver. How can I assist you in this matter?”

Zenn explained that she wanted to know the Skirni’s destination, where he first got on the ship and any details about who he associated with and his other activities since he’d been aboard. “While you are about this,” Jules said, “be certain your sleuthing about does not raise red flags of interest from the Skirni. You must move as a rubber-shoed cat burglar, slinking in shadows.”

“I must… slink?”

“Just don’t let anyone know what you’re up to.”

“Ah, to be discreet. Of course. I am a starliner steward. Discretion is simply one of my duties.”

“Thank you, Yed,” Zenn said. “Now, tell me more about your Captain’s mudlark. What sort of symptoms does it have?”

“I know only that for three days now it has been silent. Total and complete. And it refuses its feeding. This I am told is a bad sign for these animals.”

“Yes, this could be something serious. Any change in dietary habits can mean there’s a problem. And they usually vocalize several times a day. At least, in the wild.”

“What is the ailment? You can heal it?”

“I won’t know till I see it. Where is it?”

“Normally, it resides within the Captain’s quarters. But it has now been removed to the ship’s main sickbay due to this illness. Our ship’s doctor, the doctor for our passengers, has been unable to help it. I could take you there, even now. Unless it’s inconvenient.”

“No, now is good,” she said. “The sooner we diagnose your mudlark, the sooner we find out what that Skirni is up to.”