Hal Clement - Noise

Mike had no way to tell how this information compared with Wanaka’s; if any of it startled her she gave no obvious sign. She accepted the other’s ruling about no further harvesting here—maybe, he thought, that was a sign of something going on in her head—and asked no more questions. Hinemoa, who seemed to be pretty high on her city’s deck of authority, returned to her own vessel, Koku, and began to direct harvesting by her own group. The other ships had now reached the fish. None of Mata ’s crew said anything for some minutes; everyone, including ’Ao, was thinking deeply.

It was the child who spoke—she didn’t use Finger; one of the harvesting ships was close enough so that gestures might be understood, while far enough for the thunder to make vocal speech quite safe.

“Captain, I don’t think she’s telling the truth now, either.”

Wanaka nodded slowly. “I think you’re right. If it turns out that you are, you’ve earned some points. Everyone inside. We have some planning to do. If we don’t keep a watch on deck, they’ll be less likely to think we might leave without notice.”

“If we did, wouldn’t they just follow us again?” asked Mike.

“Not if Hinemoa was telling the whole truth,” was the answer. The captain and ’Ao entered the air lock. Mike gave them the time it needed to cycle, and followed; Keo came last. Hoani was trying to find some meaning in the captain’s last words, and said nothing after discarding his mask.

It was Keo who spoke, in a declarative sentence rather than a question. “We’re going all the way to Aorangi.”

Wanaka nodded. “Until we find out just how, and I hope just why, they’re lying.” Mike had spotted no evidence that Hinemoa had been untruthful, but of course didn’t ask what had convinced the others. When even the child felt sure…

“I think I’d better go back outside,” ’Ao remarked suddenly. Wanaka raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. “They all stayed pretty close to this place when they started to harvest, instead of spreading way out. I’ll bet they can tell without having to feel under the water pods just which ones are covering metal. I want to watch them and see.”

Wanaka smiled. “Good. Go ahead. But don’t try to hide the fact that you’re watching; I want them to know it. I won’t say you’re close to being a captain yet, but a twentieth of whatever cargo we have is yours the next time we have a chance to trade.”

’Ao vanished into the air lock, glowing visibly. Keo took one of the bunks, Wanaka busied herself with the ship’s log and some of the reference books, and Mike updated his own notes.

It was the best part of two hours before the captain had finished. Hoani, of course, never finished; the notes were in a constant state of revision, and were almost certainly going to need detailed statistical analysis when he got back to a place where silicon was cheap enough for electronic use.

When it became evident that the captain was going out again, leaving Keo asleep, Mike caught her eye. He didn’t have to say anything. She nodded permission and gestured him into the air lock first. Neither said anything for some moments after they emerged, either, though both were startled.

’Ao was not alone on deck. There was another child with her. It took Mike several seconds to recognize Eru, but less to see what was going on.

’Ao was teaching Finger, the supposedly Kainui-wide gesture language, to her friend. It wasn’t worldwide, after all.

“Back to the planning table,” Hoani muttered. Wanaka couldn’t possibly have heard his words, or even that he was speaking aloud in the ambient noise, but she nodded. Some ideas don’t have to be communicated; they grow from the same seed.

And some observations are top-class paradigm-changers. Mike was both a historian and a linguist, and this was a Michelson-Morley demonstration in both fields. He suddenly felt that he knew more about Kainuian history than anyone else on the world—temperate, antarctic, or anywhere else.

The children had noticed the adults and risen to their feet.

The hostess made proper greetings. “Captain Wanaka, you know Eru. His captain saw that I was trying to understand their harvesting, and sent him over to explain to me. I’ve been overboard with him, but there was trouble under water. You know, these folk don’t use the same Finger that everyone else does! It’s not just a little different; it’s so different I can’t make out one sign in five! Have you ever heard of that? I know different cities have sort of different word languages, but we know that and we know why: people came from different islands back on Earth, where different languages were spoken, and like Mike says they’ve been trading words ever since as we traded other things with each other. But Finger was invented right here on Kainui, I thought.”

“So did I.” Wanaka stopped herself just in time from saying firmly, “It was.” She did respond, Mike noticed, very quickly indeed not merely to the discovery that she was wrong about something, but even to the realization that she might be. The Aorangans were different people, very different, though the captain was nowhere near Mike’s theory of the reason.

“ Talofa, Eru,” she said after the briefest of hesitations. Mike translated to haere mai, the boy nodding acknowledgment to the translator but keeping his eyes on the captain. She went on, “Thanks for helping ’Ao. Would you like to go into the cabin? There is water, and silence. Perhaps Mike Hoani here could help; he knows your spoken language better than ’Ao or the rest of us.”

The boy accepted both offers with courtesy, and the children disappeared into the air lock. Mike followed. Wanaka remained on deck, leaving him wondering what she might have in mind.

Whatever this might be, he was too busy to think of it for nearly two hours; the children were eager for spoken language as well as Finger guidance, both sets of lessons were going both ways, and both youngsters were quick enough at learning to keep his attention occupied. Keo slept through it all, until the warning bell from the deck sounded.

’Ao and Eru were first outside, Mike last. By the time he was on deck Keo was hoisting sail. One of the Aorangi vessels was only a few meters away, and Eru gestured a polite farewell, closed his helmet, and went overside, to surface in moments beside its outrigger. All of the other ships had already set sail and were disappearing in the haze to the southeast.

“’Ao, you were right,” were the captain’s first words when Mata had set course to follow the others. “Their miners went straight to certain spots, always got metal pods along with the water, and passed up nearly every spot we’d have tried, as far as I could tell.”

“I know. I saw that, too, before, and Eru told me how to tell the difference. The water pods with metal are just slightly more perfect spheres than the others.”

“Good. We’ll hope his elders are as helpful. If Hinemoa was actually telling the truth, they will be, at least about what can be done with gold. But…” Wanaka fell silent.

’Ao, morale still high, took up her sentence. “But she wasn’t.”

“Why are you so sure?” asked Mike, his curiosity overriding his usual reluctance to show ignorance.

’Ao looked quickly at her captain, who nodded. Her mask didn’t completely hide her smile; Mike’s embarrassment returned full strength.

“Hinemoa’s ship was alone when she caught us there at the fish. The others showed up only after she’d been talking to us for a while. Why, if they found us the way she said they did, weren’t they all traveling together—or at least in sight of each other?”

Wanaka nodded in approval. “That’s part of it. Actually I thought of something else first. No, I won’t tell you yet; I’d like to see if you can spot it for yourself. You might come up with a better idea, and I don’t want to point you the wrong way. Keo, stay at the tiller, and see if you can catch up with the others; I want to stay right in the middle of that fleet if we can—ahead of them might be even better. If we do get ahead, have ’Oloa guide us a little to one side of what she figures is the right course to Aorangi. We don’t want them to get any idea that we could lead them practically straight home; they’d start wondering how.” The mate nodded understanding, and ’Ao transferred the doll to his shoulder. “’Ao,” the captain went on, “I know Mike is pretty fluent in Finger by now. Is there any chance that Eru has already picked up as much? Did you teach him any while you were at his home? No? I know it doesn’t seem likely after only a couple of hours, but I want to be sure.”