Grantville Gazette 36 gg-36

by Paula Goodlett

  Then there was an impact, and suddenly Squeak found herself bathed in cold water. She had entered the current! The border between the warm and cold water would confuse the echolocation signals-for a moment anyway, until her pursuers penetrated the current as well.

  Squeak turned her head this way and that, getting a sense for the space. The sound of the rushing water was not as precise as a sonar echo, but it told her that she was in a long, narrow canyon sculpted by the tides. One side had collapsed, covering the bottom with a maze of tumbled stone. Hopefully she would be able to conceal herself there.

  Worming her way through the rocks, Squeak had to proceed by feel. Her flippers kept scraping against the stone; there was not enough room to maneuver properly. A wave of claustrophobia came over her when she imagined getting stuck down here.

  Moments later she found a nook beneath a slab of tilted stone and worked her way in tail-first. It was cramped, but visible only from the narrow passage she had swum down. Here she opened her mouth, willed her pounding heart to silence, and focused her whole body upon the act of listening.

  Stray speech and sonar clicks found their way to her through the chattering current. She imagined her pursuers spreading out through the channel, echolocation beams prying among the rocks, hunting for her. So long as she made no sound, they would have to catch her directly in a beam in order to find her. Meanwhile, she listened. Echolocation pulses reverberated through the debris, bringing her faint jumbled images of broken stone. She ignored these and tried to use the sounds to track her pursuers' movements. She thought she could hear three distinct sources, some closer than others.

  "I don't understand why we're bothering," came a voice. Through some trick of resonance, it sounded like it was coming from right beside her. "She's just going to die on her own out here anyway. Is she going to eat bottom lice and wavetails like a muck whale? The Songless will probably get her. She's blind! Helpless! Useless!"

  The words barely stung at all. Squeak had been long used to being useless. Always riding her mother's wake like a nurseling, she could neither watch the herds nor tend to the calves. Some orcas specialized in monitoring local wildlife populations and others honed their sonar beams into surgical instruments, but not Squeak. She couldn't even play at stunning fish with echo pulses or engage in the roughhousing games that orcas enjoyed. But she had her mother, who never objected to the great burden that Squeak knew she must impose. She longed now for the comforting pulse of her mother's gills, her heartbeat. . . .

  "What are you complaining for, Sideways?" said a second voice. This one came echoing through the jumble of rocks surrounding Squeak's hiding place, indicating its owner was close by. "This is fun. I'm tired of butting rostrums and nipping tails. I want to kill someone." Feast.

  Squeak felt sick inside. She knew these males by reputation: third-generation offspring of the most powerful local matriarch, an ancient and fecund whale named Grabjaw. Orcas did not have leaders, but each family held a certain amount of prestige through a combination of force, persuasion, and utility.

  "That's right, little fish, we're going to feed on you." The voice was even closer now. Little fish, tasty fish, crunchy fish, it sang.

  "Shut it, Nipper." Only faint echoes reached her, but it sounded like this might be Hammerhead.

  "I'm just trying to get her to piss herself again, lead us right to her." Laugh.

  "Half-calf, why are you so selfish?" Hammerhead called out to her. "If you do not care for your pod, think of your mother. What kind of life can she have, with you trailing her wake every turn of the tide? Bad enough for her that you were born. Come out, and set her free."

  No, that's not true, my mother loves me! Squeak screamed inside her head. She had never felt so helpless and wretched.

  "This is stupid, I'm going home. Nipper can find a Songless whale to kill if he wants to." Sideways, on the other side of the channel and moving away.

  "Fine. Just so long as you're the one who tells Grabjaw that the three of us couldn't catch a blind whale." Dare.

  Nipper was getting closer and closer. Scattered echoes of his sonar beam were prying into her cubbyhole. If he didn't see her, soon her laboring heartbeat would give her away. She glimpsed an image of his jaws, caught in a reflection of his own beam.

  Suddenly she knew what to do. With a kick of her tail, Squeak sprang from her hiding-place. Nipper was only a few whale-lengths away, his echolocation clicks scrambling the maze of stone with a cacophony of echoes. He stopped short, trying to ascertain her position amidst a swarm of reflected images. But his pulsing sonar signal told her exactly where he was.

  Just as her mother had done, Squeak slammed the male with the full force of her charge. A satisfying meaty shock went through her rostrum as she thrust her opponent against the rock behind him. The metallic tang of blood filled the water.

  Nipper didn't have time to make a sound, but that collision would have echoed through the channel. Squeak waved her head through the current to get her bearings and then plunged further down the channel. Her only hope was to get out of echolocation range before his brothers got a beam on her. She fled headlong, all the while bracing herself against the impact of an unseen boulder or knoll.

  Strangely, the tail-biters seemed to be going in the opposite direction. She heard frantic communication clicks, too faint for her to discern words and growing fainter. From Nipper came no sound at all. That thought brought a mixture of fear, shame, and exultation.

  Once out of the mouth of the channel Squeak turned right and hugged the side of the ridge. As the rush of combat faded, it was replaced by fatigue fringed with despair. What had she accomplished? She was no closer to her mother. She could no longer even be sure what direction her mother's call had come from. Why had she ceased calling? Hammerhead's cruel words echoed in her mind.

  Back in her old pod she would have voiced her feelings in song. But with the Grabjaws still hunting for her, she dared not make a sound. Still, why not? There was a chance her mother would hear. She was tired of fleeing. Her song would bring either death or solace, and both were preferable to the way she felt now.

  Her plaintive cry went out into the dark: Mother, the sea is vast and I long for the comfort of your wake.

  She had repeated her song a couple of times and was about to begin another phrase when a reply came from not far off:

  A calf calls with the voice of an adult. What is the meaning of this riddle?

  That was no orca! That song, deeper than any orca could produce, could only have come from one of the Grandfathers. The Grandfathers were huge, krill-eating whales. They had their own feeding grounds and seldom consorted with orcas. But orcas sometimes sought their counsel-they were long-lived and singers of the Song, repository of all whale wisdom. Squeak had never met one, although she had listened to their voices all her life. Was it possible that this one could help her now? She was afraid to hope.

  Grandfather, she sang into the sea, driven from my pod by punishing whales, homeless and motherless am I.

  A singer such as you? What was your crime?

  None but living. Echolocation eludes me; I am defective.

  No reply came so she pleaded: Grandfather, what should I do?

  Learn to eat krill.

  Forgetting herself, Squeak cried artlessly: That is not helpful! I need to get back to my mother!

  A whale swims forward, not backward. And even a defect can be perfect.

  Such riddle-talk was typical of the Grandfathers. But Squeak was in no mood for it now. Can't you just give me a straight answer? she moaned.

  Our song makes all whales one; to torture orcas is all we ask in return.

  All right, she was going to have to play his game. Krill does not suit my palate. Is there nothing else I can do?

  Some voices are silenced too soon; others never get the chance to find their song. Yours lies ahead of you, if you will hear it.

  I don't understand! Squeak cried. What do you mean?

  But in reply the v
oice only took up the chorus of the Song. That, it seemed, was all she was going to get.

  Squeak swam on, confused and frustrated. Your song lies ahead of you. It sounded like an empty platitude a pompous old matriarch might offer to an impatient young orca. Squeak knew she was supposed to respect the Grandfathers and be grateful for what guidance they offered, but she felt that at a time like this she was entitled to something more! If he knew something she didn't, why not tell her? Why force her to swim upstream like this?

  Squeak continued to brood over the Grandfather's words, when she heard an echolocation pulse. And another, and another. At first she thought the brothers had heard her song and tracked it back to her, but then she realized there were too many. Almost without sound, nearly a dozen whales descended upon her. Too despondent to run, she let them approach.

  Quick and agile, these whales swarmed about her like a herd of bredfish. They were orcas, certainly, but smaller and sleeker than those Squeak knew-this she heard by the almost seamless way they cut the water. Their sonar beams roamed her body curiously, but they uttered not a word. Did they have something to do with the Grandfather’s cryptic message?

  "I am Squeak," she said in tentative greeting. She sensed a shudder go through the group, but no reply came. That was when Squeak knew what she was facing: they were Songless whales.

  Genetic throwbacks to the days of pre-sapience before the Migration, Songless whales were unable to comprehend the Song of the Grandfathers that wove the skein of whale civilization. They lived as savages, preying upon other whales. Her mother had terrified her with tales of how they took calves who strayed too far. They more than anything else were the reason for the Breeding Laws.

  Well, let them have her if they wanted. Let them feast upon her flesh. It was no more than the civilized whales wanted to do.

  One of the Songless made a careful scan of her from tail to rostrum. Then it directed a stream of what sounded like communication clicks at her. Squeak was taken aback-was this creature trying to talk to her? It repeated the call and then made a pass in front of her, close enough for her to feel its bow wave move along her body.

  As Squeak was wondering what to do next, a second whale made a close scan of her and then sent an almost identical stream of clicks. Was this call a threat? A challenge?

  Then to her surprise, one of the whales directed an intense beam of sound at the other, hard enough that it rang like a blow. She wasn't sure what happened next, but judging by the thrashing of the water and the sounds of tail-blows and aggressive echolocation beams, these two were fighting like a pair of young males over a female.

  Slowly it dawned upon Squeak that this was exactly what they were doing-they were fighting over her. First the deep scan to confirm her gender, then the competitive behavior-she had seen it many times. It made perfect sense. Orcas travelled in family groups, so the males would always be on the lookout for a young female without calf. She was meat to them all right, just not the kind she had expected!

  Squeak laughed-a rapid chattering of her teeth-for the first time since her old pod broke up.

  What should she do next? She certainly wasn't going to mate with one of these creatures. Perhaps if she just moved off. . . . But off to where? There was nowhere for her to go. That tiny flicker of joy made Squeak realize that she didn't want to be alone. Her mother's absence was like an open wound and she didn't want to give up even the paltry comfort these strange, silent orcas brought.

  But could she swim with them? Part of her recoiled at the idea. Everything she had been taught said that these were beasts, monsters, not orcas but killer whales. Still, at this moment, they seemed less barbaric than the members of her own adopted pod.

  Over the sound of the duel, Squeak could hear the other Songless whales moving on. She decided to chance it and followed them at a discreet distance.

  The sounds of battle ceased and Squeak felt two whales shoot past her. Each one took up a position ahead of her such that she was tugged along by their wake. Were they staking claim or attempting to curry favor? This brought mixed feelings; because of her deformity, no male had ever shown interest in Squeak before. At least this suggested that it was safe for her to accompany the pod.

  It was not long before Squeak heard a small shape approach her. A miniature echolocation beam probed her tentatively and Squeak realized she was being examined by a calf. A calf! Of course Songless whales had calves too-the thought had just never occurred to her.

  Squeak tried a call she had heard mothers use with calves before: a whistle that rose in tone to a peak and then fell again. She was rewarded with a happy squeal, which she returned.

  Squeak was about to try another call when four more small, inquisitive forms appeared and swam around her. She laughed for a second time. Juvenile orcas were intensely curious and difficult to control. One of them appeared to imitate her laugh.

  Moments later, the water was disturbed by the simultaneous approach of several adult orcas. Squeak made ready to flee, but the adults ignored her and instead prodded the juveniles with sonar beams. Emitting squeals of protest, the little ones were herded by their mothers back to the pod. Playtime, it seemed, was over. But Squeak hoped she would be allowed to play with these calves again.

  Squeak followed the pod of Songless whales through the channel and down the slope of the ridge on the other side. Here she was about to leave them for fear of losing contact with her mother completely, but they turned to follow the contour of the channel mouth. It was not difficult to figure out why: the whales foraged constantly, and food was less sparse here where the channel gathered in the tidal current like a Grandfather scooping krill.

  Wild whales did not eat only calves, as it turned out. In fact, they ate everything, as far as Squeak could tell: creepercrawlers, wavetails, bottom lice. . . . There was even the occasional bredfish-apparently enough had escaped from herds to form a wild population. But it was meager fare and everyone gobbled up whatever they found before another orca could get at it. It was easy to tell why they were all so small and thin, eking out an existence in this inhospitable environment. Was she going to have to live like them, if she didn't find a way to return to the Singing Valley pod?

  The Grandfather had said she would find her song out here, but he couldn't have meant this, could he?

  ****

  After a time, Squeak heard an unmistakable voice: Squeak, mother calls. To me! To me! Her mother, at last! Not caring if the tail-biters lay in wait for her, she swam joyfully toward the sound.

  She was not far off. Drawing near, Squeak recognized her heartbeat, her breathing, even the rhythm of her tail-strokes. Squeak and her mother nuzzled, rubbed cheeks, and stroked one another with their fins. She was overcome with joy. Then she detected the acrid flavor of blood and felt a gash on her mother's side.

  "What's this?"

  "It's nothing. A little souvenir from the Grabjaws."

  Squeak understood. They had given her a tooth-raking for standing up to the tail-biters. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

  "It doesn't matter," her mother went on. "We're together again, and that's all that counts." Joy, she sang.

  "We're together again. . . ." Squeak echoed.

  Then she felt an echolocation beam sweep over them. Her mother darted and directed a stream of sonar pulses at the intruder. Reading the reflection, Squeak recognized one of her suitors. When a second beam scanned them it was easy enough to guess who it came from.

  "Mother, don't worry, I know these whales. They won't hurt us."

  "I am Tailspinner. . . ." Squeak's mother said hesitantly.

  One of the males responded with an inarticulate squeal of clicks. To Squeak it sounded like the mating call he had directed to her earlier.

  "Squeak, these are Songless!" Her mother took up a position between Squeak and the two males. "We should get out of here!" Away! Away!

  "Yes, Mother, I know they're Songless. But it's safe. They . . . like me."

  There was an incredulo
us silence, and then Squeak said: "Mother, what are we going to do?"

  "We're going to leave these waters and find another pod that will accept us."

  "Oh." Squeak was disappointed. As unreasonable as it was, she had hoped her mother would have some solution that would allow them to return to the Singing Valley pod. "But it was difficult enough to find a new pod before. And now we're coming begging without our own herd. . . ."

  "Oh, bitesize, I know it will be hard, but what does that matter as long as we're alive and together?"

  "Together . . ." Squeak thought of all that had happened since she and her mother had parted. "Mother, I spoke with a Grandfather today."

  "A Grandfather? Surely not."

  "He said something about some whales never getting the chance to find their song and told me mine was out here."

  "Are you sure it wasn't another orca? Or a muck whale?"

  "No, it was a Grandfather! Listen, he said I would find my song out here. Do you think he meant with these Songless whales?"

  "Squeak, of course not! You don't belong with these creatures, you mustn't ever think that. You're an orca, a true orca!"

  "That's not what the Grabjaws think," Squeak said miserably. "Mother, I have an idea. You return to the pod and I'll stay here."

  "Squeak, what are you saying?"

  "The Grabjaw brothers are still hunting for me-it's not safe! But they would never think of looking for me with the Songless whales! You can pretend that you've given up on me and after a while they'll give up too. Meanwhile, we could send out discreet calls to other pods. You could even come visit me. If you want to."

  "But if you stay with the Songless you're admitting that the Grabjaws are right and you don't belong with true orcas." Shame.

  "Mother, I . . . I need to know if this is what the Grandfathers have in mind for me."

  "Squeak, why are you behaving this way? Even if the Grandfathers do have some special role in mind for you, it can't be scrounging among the rocks with savages! Forget that and let's go." Calf, obey!