Changelings

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Fine. Meet the otters, but then tell them you have to be a sky seal when Ronan goes to find your father.” Mum let a small smile play at the corners of her lips, though her eyes were still sad and anxious.

  Murel didn’t like seeing her mother sad, but then again, she didn’t mind leaving her in the copter either. After all, Mum had sent them away for three long years without even asking what they wanted, so now her mother could get left when she herself wanted to go. The girl shucked her clothes and dived out the copter door into the sea. No need for her suit since she would be returning to the copter.

  The water was cold cold cold after the warm and regulated pool at Marmie’s, but it felt wonderful, especially when her skin covered itself with its seal coat. It smelled fresh and exciting and full of life and adventure and—fish! She gobbled three small ones as she swam toward the otters. Delicious! Nothing like Petaybean fish.

  Feeling like some sort of a seal celebrity—the kind that never appeared on the vids available on Marmie’s station—she joined Ronan and the otters.

  Yes, that is right, Otter said, being the official spokes-otter either for them or for his relatives. Now there are both river seals and that is the right number. Ronan is not enough river seals.

  Gee thanks, she said. Then she and Ronan listened as Otter sang the song he’d made about them again. It was no good for them to sing their own song because it was in the human language and lost a lot in the translation. Otter’s version was far more appropriate to the audience at hand, or paw or flipper.

  The sea otters then favored them with a song of their own, about finding the great clams and leading the father river seal to the beds. Ending the song, the sea otters sang, But he swam away. He did not want clams and had no paws to hold them. He swam toward the great smoke and the thing beneath it. He swam to the great mystery and the otters who guard it.

  Otters guard it? Murel asked.

  Yes, the sea otter said, sounding a bit nervous.

  But is it not a big fiery underwater mountain? Why would it need otters to guard it?

  That is a mystery.

  Surely not to the otters who guard it. Do you know them? Are they a related clan of sea otters?

  We have seen them, we have spoken with them, we have shared food with them, but we do not know them. They are not sea otters like us. They are deep sea otters and live beneath the waves.

  Beneath the waves? But otters are—otters need air like seals, don’t they? Otters cannot always live beneath the water.

  The deep sea otters do, the sea otter told them. They can stay above the water too but have to go down into it to breathe the same way we have to come up above the water to breathe. It is very strange.

  Are you sure they’re otters?

  Oh yes. They look just like us only they live beneath the sea.

  Weird, Ronan said. But if they live near the big volcano and that’s where you think Da was swimming, then they may have seen him. Will you take us to them?

  We will take you as near as the clam beds and call to them. If the smoky mountain is very busy, they might not hear.

  That would be good, Ronan said. My sister and mother will follow us in the sky machine, okay? That way they can help us if there is trouble.

  Your mother who is not a seal nor any of your human people can know about the deep sea otters, the sea otter said. They are very shy. They do not want to be taken by scientists for study as the river otters say they were.

  I suppose if they stay below the waves, Mum wouldn’t see them. But she and Murel do need to follow. It’s entirely possible nobody but Mur and me will be able to tell one sea otter from another. Do they look much like you?

  They look almost exactly like us. Maybe larger.

  Then nobody will know. Besides, there’s no one here now to give any of you sea otters or your larger friends the kind of trouble Dr. Mabo gave the river otters.

  “Hah!” Otter said. Sea otters do not know about that trouble the way river otters do. But river otters cannot swim in the sea, so if sea otters and river seals are in trouble, this otter and his hundreds of relatives cannot help them out of it.

  Murel heard the disappointment in Otter’s thought. A river otter may not swim in the sea but a sky otter could fly over it if he wanted to, she said. Then if the kind of help a river or sky otter could give was necessary, that otter would be there.

  “Hah!” Otter said, and at once she knew that although he had no real wish to go up in the copter again, he was now a sky otter, and having said so of himself, his relatives would expect him to want to go into the sky. That is true. Sky otters could go.

  Of course, they might have better things to do, Murel said, to give him an out.

  But Otter said staunchly, River seals help river otters, and river otters who are also sky otters help river seals.

  The little guy was trembling as Murel carried him back into the copter. At her signal, it had landed once more on the shore. The hundreds of relatives—there were actually probably less than twenty—chittered and chattered anxiously as she and Otter climbed aboard the noisy, smelly, wind-blowing machine and rose into the sky over the ocean. Otter himself kept saying “Hah!” a lot.

  Mother smiled at her and nodded to Otter as if he were a respected acquaintance.

  Ready when you are, Murel told Ronan.

  Okay then, sea otters, shall we swim?

  You realize that we are very tired, having just come from there, the one they’d been speaking to said. However, some of us did not get clams, and these otters will return to the lava beds with you, river seal, because of your song.

  Without further fanfare, the sea otters knifed into the waves and Ronan followed.

  Murel put her earphones on and heard Mum say to the pilot, “Just keep them in sight. We don’t want to frighten the otters. They might be able to lead us to Sean.”

  Murel thought her mother was awfully brave. Da had been missing for more than a week now. Where would he go in the middle of the ocean that he might be safe? He was all alone unless those deep sea otters knew where he was. Murel didn’t want to think about it where anyone could read her, but she didn’t see how Da could still be safe. There was no way, really. And yet, if he were gone for good she was sure she would know, sure that Mum would know, and Ronan too. Da? she called experimentally, and imagined her thought sending out ripples in the waves, ripples in the air like a very special kind of father-seeking sonar.

  It rippled away into nothingness though, if she didn’t count Ronan’s irritated, You think I haven’t been trying that?

  I think you’re doing what you show me you’re doing, she told him.

  We’re still not to the place where the sea otters lost him, so you may as well save your energy.

  Within another four hours, however, there was a different kind of energy crisis. The pilot’s voice boomed and crackled inside Murel’s earphones. “We’re going to have to go back to refuel pretty soon, ma’am.”

  “Frag,” Mum said, pounding her knee with her fist in frustration. “How close are we now, Murel?”

  It had been a long time since Ronan had sent her pictures of anything but waves rolling around his ears, or diving under ice, or otter hind ends. The sea could be very boring if you weren’t actually in it. And it wasn’t as if they could see much of anything in the copter. You couldn’t even make out the otters swimming right below. The farther they flew, the worse the fog became.

  In fact, Murel realized she’d been dozing when the pilot’s voice awakened her.

  So, Ro, how are we doing down there? she asked her brother.

  Good! The water is a lot warmer here and it smells like rotten eggs, which seems about right for a place with volcanic vents, from what we studied in science class. The otters have been getting more and more excited, and making me hungry talking about those delicious red clams.

  River otters like those too, Otter said suddenly. He’d been very quiet, and Murel thought he might have been napping.

 
Ooops, there goes an otter bottoms up, and another. We must be there. I’m diving too.

  “Well?” Mum asked impatiently. Murel had almost forgotten about her.

  “We’re at the clam beds now. The sea otters say this is where Da left them.”

  “Tell your brother to steer clear of those vents. They have sulfuric acid coming out of them.”

  “We know all that stuff from school, Mum. Besides, we can smell the difference in the water. So can the otters.”

  “We have to turn back now, ma’am,” the pilot’s voice boomed into their earphones once more. “Just enough fuel to make it back.”

  “Let me get out, Mum. We’ll lose Ronan and the otters otherwise.”

  “I don’t want to risk losing you both. Besides, what about your little friend here? Didn’t you say he doesn’t do salt water?”

  Another voice crackled into the headphones. “This is Captain Johnny Green aboard the amphibious yacht Melusine, registered to Lady Marmion de Revers Algemeine of Versailles Space Station. We are desperately seeking Petaybean Chinook-class helicopter zero-seven-three-niner-penguin-tango-bear, newly renamed the Flying Otter. Lady Marmion wants to know, ‘Is that you, Yana? Have you found him? Do you need fuel because the Melusine is equipped with a helipad and a fueling station.’ ”

  “Yes, no, and merde alors! Marmie, but you think of everything,” Mum replied.

  Johnny and their copter’s pilot exchanged coordinates—normally you could see from a copter, but the smog from the volcano kept that from happening. The result was that soon the copter banked to the left, flew for a while, then settled down toward the sea like a bird fluffing down into her nest.

  “Hah!” Otter said. We have left Ronan and the sea otters, Murel. Where are we?

  The Flying Otter needs fuel, she told him.

  Yes, even flying otters get hungry, but there will be clam meat later.

  I didn’t mean you. They’ve renamed the helicopter after you. It’s called the Flying Otter now. And I was thinking. We always think of you, and you refer to yourself, as Otter. But with so many other otters around, and you being our special friend, maybe you would let us call you a special name. How about Sky?

  Hah! Sky! Hah! Of course this otter is called Sky by his friends the river seals. Other otters know each other only by individual scent names, but Sky has friends who are not otters and must make sure it is their friend who hears them. Yes, this otter is Sky. Sky is a good name. A high name for an otter so special that even flying machines are named for Sky the sky otter.

  Murel had to smile. Otter—Sky—was obviously well pleased with the distinction he had picked up simply by flying with them.

  Well, at least things were going well for someone.

  Ronan, can you still read me?

  Yeah, but I can’t hear you anymore. Where did you guys go?

  We have to refuel, but Marmie brought her special refueling yacht she packed with her aboard the ship when we came here. So we’re not far. Any news of Da yet?

  No, mostly just the sound of breaking clamshells and otter bodies diving back down for more goodies. They got a little sidetracked.

  CHAPTER 21

  WHAT IS THAT? Sky asked, as Murel opened her arms to let him leap from the copter to the pad on the deck of Marmie’s yacht.

  Sky was looking through the puffs of smog and smoke at the Honu’s tank, and Ke-ola beside it.

  Oh, that’s Ke-ola and the sacred Honu. Honu is a sea turtle. We don’t have them here on Petaybee but he wanted to come and see it.

  Loving greetings, Otter of the Skies, Honu’s thought voice said.

  Greetings, shelled creature who comes from space and is not for eating by river otters. Or sky otters. What brings you to our world and waters?

  My kind love the places where the ocean bed is closest to the heart of the world and this is such a place. Your world is giving you a new land place, and my two-legged family is in much need of such a place. I have come to examine its suitability for us all, and ours for your world. I go now with my grandson Ke-ola to swim. Would you swim with us?

  River otters, even when they are also sky otters, do not swim in salt water, Sky said regretfully.

  Murel walked over to Ke-ola. “Ronan is already in the water with some of the sea otters, looking for our father. I’d dive in with you but I can’t change in front of so many people. Besides, Mum needs me here to let her know what’s going on with Ro.”

  “That’s okay, sistah. The Honu and I will look. I think we will see more below than we can up here.” He inhaled deeply, throwing his arms out and drawing them back to his chest. “But, ahhh! The air smells wonderful here.”

  Murel wrinkled her nose. “You’re kidding! It smells like rotten eggs!”

  Ke-ola just grinned. He liked the smell. Maybe it was some ancestral memory of volcano fart in his bloodlines, she thought.

  Marmie’s crew had lowered the tank into the hold of the yacht far enough that Ke-ola could simply reach in and lift out the sacred Honu, which he did. He stood on the deck where there was no railing.

  “Slainté, Ke-ola,” Murel said softly.

  Ke-ola paused. “You told me slainté meant hello and good-bye.”

  “It also means ‘to your health,’ ” she said.

  “Slainté, Murel,” he said. “Slainté, Sky.”

  In her mind she heard Sky and the Honu echo the sentiment, and then Ke-ola, with Honu under one large arm, held his nose between the fingers of the other hand and happily dived feetfirst into the water.

  THE SEA OTTERS were restless. After each of them dived to get a clam and returned, some empty-pawed, they were ready to swim back to the shore again. Ronan couldn’t blame them. He had never been swimming in the ocean before this and wasn’t used to tides and waves. He thought it would be way more fun than rivers but this was no fun at all. Even the otters were finding swimming conditions difficult. When they led him to the first of the lava beds, he’d been able to see the tall rock chimneys pumping out their smelly bubbles and smoke, could feel from the warmth of the water where the black smokers lay beneath him.

  But now, just a short distance farther, everything had changed.

  A hot wind blew out of nowhere, whipping the waves high over his head. He couldn’t even see the otters most of the time. Every once in a while the whole ocean would shudder and shake.

  Hey, Ronan called out to the sea at large. We should call those deep sea otters now. I don’t think we can go much farther.

  No farther at all, River Seal! the closest sea otter said. Ronan couldn’t see him through the smoke. Going home now. No deep sea otters today. Then suddenly he saw the crest of a wave bearing three sea otters riding the swell. One was floating on his back and almost sinking from the weight of the clam held to his chest with his front paws. Water is too rough to play, food too hard to get. Wait for better seas and not so much smoke.

  Good idea, but my da is out here somewhere. You guys promised to help me. Otters were great playmates but except for Sky himself they didn’t seem to be very reliable. Could you just call them, though?

  If they are near enough to feel us calling, they’ll already know we’re here, the clam bearer called back, finally flipping over and releasing his prize before undulating away into the waters.

  Yes, but . . . How did you argue with otters?

  No sense trying. He had come all this way to find Da, and he wasn’t about to go back after nothing more than a fishing expedition on the part of his trusty native guides. No way was he calling this off on account of waves.

  This was as far as the otters had come with Da anyway, and they said he’d swum out to sea a little farther—toward the large and active volcano, which would mean swimming into thicker smoke at the very least.

  He started to let Murel know, then thought better of it. He knew this was the right thing to do if he was going to find Da, but Mum might not allow it. Or Mur might try to come with him. She was now on Marmie’s yacht, however that got here. He gathere
d it was some distance away, so he’d have to wait for her to catch up. The air quality here was terrible, and he could almost breathe water better than he could breathe the air. He didn’t think it was going to improve and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out, so if he was going, he’d better go while the getting was good.

  He tried drawing a diving breath but kept choking on the air. Swimming Petaybee’s clean rivers, he had never had this problem before, but he thought full-time seals probably did sometimes. He wouldn’t be such a baby. He’d do what he’d come to do. Finally, he took in what air he could and dived. He wouldn’t be able to stay down long, but though the water was churning with mud, ash, and other debris, it was cleaner than the air.

  By repeatedly diving and barely surfacing enough for his nose to suck in air before he dived again, he made some progress. He thought he did anyway. Actually, he didn’t even know which direction he was going except he thought the smoke and debris were worse, and the water smelled worse and burned at times, not a hot burn so much as an irritating one. He thought surely he must be drawing nearer to the big volcano.

  So, good for him. The only problem was, he could hardly see his own flippers, much less another seal or person in all this muck. He’d dive just a little deeper and then he would have to turn around. Mum and Mur would never forgive him if he got himself killed while trying to help Da.

  That was such a grim thought that he dived deeper than he intended, and ended by touching the ocean floor—which was quite a bit closer than he’d supposed it might be.

  He glided forward, his belly grazing the smooth lava bottom, where already plants were fringing up from the cracks, tickling his fur and flippers.

  This was as far down as he could go. No way could he comb the entire ocean floor looking for—well, for what was left of Da. He didn’t like to admit it, but Da could not have survived this for many hours, much less days or weeks.

  His air was giving out. Little spots sparkled before his eyes, turning into dazzling stars, blinding after so much darkness. Then, to his surprise, his eyes adjusted—not to hallucinatory spots, but to real light, coming from what looked like real windows. In front of him and towering above him were what seemed like buildings, domes, towers—a gateway.