West of Eden

CHAPTER TWO

Enge hantèhei, agatè embokèka lirubushei kakshèsei, hèawahei; hevai‘ihei, kaksheintè, enpelei asahen enge.

To leave father’s love and enter the embrace of the sea is the first pain of life — the first joy is the comrades who join you there.

The enteesenat cut through the waves with rhythmic motions of their great, paddle-like flippers. One of them raised its head from the ocean, water streaming higher and higher on its long neck, turning and looking backward. Only when it caught sight of the great form low in the water behind them did it drop beneath the surface once again.

There was a school of squid ahead — the other enteesenat was clicking with loud excitement, Now the massive lengths of their tails thrashed and they tore through the water, gigantic and unstoppable, their mouths gaping wide. Into the midst of the school.

Spurting out jets of water the squid fled in all directions. Most would escape behind the clouds of black dye they expelled, but many of them were snapped up by the plate-ridged jaws, caught and swallowed whole. This continued until the sea was empty again, the survivors scattered and distant. Sated, the great creatures turned about and paddled slowly back the way they had come.

Ahead of them an even larger form moved through the ocean, water surging across its back and bubbling about the great dorsal fin of the uruketo. As they neared it the enteesenat dived and turned to match its steady motion through the sea, swimming beside it close to the length of its armored beak. It must have seen them, one eye moved slowly, following their course, the blackness of the pupil framed by its bony ring. Recognition slowly penetrated the creature’s dim brain and the beak began to open, then gaped wide.

One after another they swam to the wide open mouth and pushed their heads into the cave-like opening. Once in position they regurgitated the recently caught squid. Only when their stomachs were empty did they pull back and spin about with a sideways movement of their flippers. Behind them the jaws closed as slowly as they had opened and the massive bulk of the uruketo moved steadily on its way.

Although most of the creature’s massive body was below the surface, the uruketo’s dorsal fin projected above its back, rising up above the waves. The flattened top was dried and leathery, spotted with white excrement where sea birds had perched, scarred as well where they had torn the tough hide with their sharp bills. One of these birds was dropping down towards the top of the fin now, hanging from its great white wings, webbed feet extended. It squawked suddenly, flapping as it moved off, startled by the long gash that had appeared in the top of the fin. This gap widened, then extended the length of the entire fin, a great opening in the living flesh that widened further still and emitted a puff of stale air.

The opening gaped, wider and wider, until there was more than enough room for the Yilanè to emerge. It was the second officer, in charge of this watch. She breathed deeply of the fresh sea air as she clambered onto the wide ledge of bone located inside and near the top of the fin, her head and shoulders projecting, looking about in a careful circle. Satisfied that all was well she clambered back below, past the crewmember on steering duty who was peering forward through the transparent disc before her. The officer looked over her shoulder at the glowing needle of the compass, saw it move from the coursemark. The crewmember reached out next to the compass and seized the nodule of the nerve ending between the thumbs of her left hand, squeezing it hard. A shudder passed through the vessel as the half-sentient creature responded. The officer nodded and continued her climb down into the long cavern of the interior, her pupils expanding swiftly in the half-lit darkness.

Fluorescent patches were the only illumination here in the living-walled chamber that extended almost the full length of the uruketo’s spine. To the rear, in almost complete darkness, lay the prisoners with their ankles shackled together. Cases of supplies and pods of water separated them from the crew and passengers in the front. The officer made her way forward to the commander to give her report. Erafhais looked up from the glowing chart that she held and signed agreement. Satisfied, she rolled the chart and returned it to its niche, then moved off to climb the fin herself. She shuffled when she walked, a childhood injury to her back which was still scarred and wrinkled from the same wound. Only her great ability had enabled her to rise to this high rank with such a disfiguring handicap. When she emerged on top of the fin she also breathed deep of the fresh air as she looked about her.

Behind them the coast of Maninlè was slipping out of sight. There was land barely visible on the horizon ahead, a chain of low islands stretching northwards. Satisfied, she bent over and spoke, expressing herself in the most formal way. When issuing orders she would be more direct, almost brusque. But not now. She was polite and impersonal, the accepted form of address to be used by one of lower rank to one of higher. Yet she was in command of this living vessel — so the one she spoke to must indeed be of exalted position.

“For your pleasure, there are things to be seen, Vaintè.”

Having spoken she moved to the rear, leaving the vantage point in the front clear. Vaintè clambered carefully up the ribbed interior of the fin and emerged onto the i

“Tell me what that is ahead,” Vaintè said abruptly.

“A chain of islands, Highest. Their name is their being. Alakas-aksehent, the succession of golden, tumbled stones. Their sands and the water about them are warm all the year round. The islands extend in a line until they reach the mainland. It is there, on the shore, that the new city is growing.”

“Alpèasak. The beautiful beaches,” Vaintè said, speaking to herself so that the others could not see or hear her words. “Is this my destiny?” She turned to face the commander. “When will we be there?”

“This afternoon, Highest. Certainly before dark. There is a warm current in the ocean here that carries us swiftly in that direction. The squid are plentiful so the enteesenat and the uruketo feed well. Too well sometimes. Those are some of the problems of commanding on a long voyage. We must watch them carefully or they go slowly and our arrival…”

“Silence. I wish to be alone with my efenselè.”

“A pleasure to me.” Erafhais spoke the words, backing away at the same time, vanishing below the instant she had finished.

Vaintè turned to the silent watchers with warmth in her every movement. “We are here. The struggle to reach this new world, Gendasi, is at an end. Now the greater struggle to build the new city shall begin.”

“We help, do as you bid,” Etdeerg said. Strong and solid as a rock, ready with all her strength to aid. “Command us — even unto death.” In another this might have sounded pretentious; not with Etdeerg. There was sincerity in every firm motion of her body.