The Dolphins of Pern Read online

  “Yes, well,” Alemi said, and explained Aramina’s hesitations. They sounded even weaker than ever in the presence of such an august audience.

  “Mothers are reputed to know what is best for their offspring,” Aivas said and Alemi did not suspect a “machine” of irony. “The young are able to learn language skills much more quickly, having fewer inhibitions. It would have been useful to have a younger student. To the discussion at hand: It was good to learn that the dolphins have not forgotten their duties during the long years—Turns—that have passed. Please be seated, Master Alemi. The input of your experience with the dolphins would help update that apparently overlooked segment of the original colonizing team.”

  Struggling to absorb the concept that the dolphins, too, had been original colonists on this world, Alemi stumbled into the nearest chair and seated himself, eyes glued to the scene. There was something … not quite … right about the scene he was viewing. The dolphins were correct but—and then the concept of seeing moving pictures of living creatures staggered him.

  “How do you do that?” he asked. In the previous meeting the screen had only shown maps, or what Aivas had called “sonar” readings, not these glimpses of dolphins, doing what he had observed them doing, disporting in the seas, most of his life.

  “This is but one of the many tapes available to this facility,” the Aivas said. “Moving pictures were an integral part of the information services of your ancestors’ culture.”

  “Oh!” Alemi was fascinated by dolphin antics. “I’ve seen them do that! That’s—that’s exactly what the shipfish do!” he said excitedly as the scene shifted to the creatures escorting a ship, diving along its forward wake.

  “This tape was taken more than twenty-five hundred of your Turns in the past,” Aivas said in a gently instructive tone.

  “But—but they haven’t changed!”

  “Evolutionary changes take much longer than twenty-five hundred Turns, Master Alemi, and zoologists are of the opinion that this species has gone through several changes in the developmental path to this present form.”

  “Including speaking?” Alemi blurted out.

  “The dolphins which accompanied the colonists to Pern had been treated with mentasynth to enhance their empathic abilities and to assist them in learning human speech. It was reported that you heard them speak understandable words?”

  “Readis and I both heard them speak.” Alemi chuckled. “Readis was far more credulous than I,” he admitted ruefully.

  “The boy was considered too young to attend.”

  “Yes,” Alemi agreed with a sigh. “I’ll tell him you asked.”

  There was a brief pause. “As you wish. It is reassoring to know that dolphins have not forgotten either speech or their duties.”

  “Duties?”

  “One of their prime functions was to perform sea rescue operations.”

  “Well, they not only saved Readis and me, but since then, every crewman in my hold has some tale to relate about doll-fins rescuing folks.”

  “Elucidate, please.”

  “You mean, explain?”

  “Yes, if you please.”

  “For a machine, you’re very polite,” Alemi said, trying to master his awe for this amazing creation of the ancients.

  “Courtesy is essential in all dealings with humans.”

  “Especially between humans,” Alemi added drolly.

  “Would you be kind enough to detail your recent personal experience with the dolphins?”

  “Of course, although really you should have had Readis tell you. He’s got it all down pat.”

  “So Lord Jaxom said.”

  “You’ve a sense of humor?”

  “Not as you know it. Relate your experience.”

  “I’m not harper trained …”

  “You were there. Your firsthand account will be greatly appreciated.”

  Though there was no hint of censure or impatience in Aivas’s tone, Alemi obeyed. To his own amusement, he found himself repeating phrases that Readis had used in describing the adventure. The boy did have a gift for the dramatic. He must remind Jayge to apply for a harper at Paradise River Hold. Fleetingly he regretted Aramina’s decision for Readis.

  “They called themselves ‘mam’ls,’” Alemi added as he concluded the actual events. “Not fish.”

  “They are,” Aivas said in an uncontradictable tone, “mammals.” He emphasized the correct pronunciation.

  “What, then, are mammals?”

  “Mammals—m-a-m-m-a-l-s—are life-forms that bear live young and suckle them.”

  “In the seas?” Alemi demanded incredulously.

  The picture on the screen altered to one of swirling waters and tails, and suddenly Alemi was conscious that he was watching the birth of a shipfish. He gasped as the tiny creature emerged from its mother’s body and then was assisted by two other shipfish to the surface.

  “As you see, oxygen is important and essential to the dolphins as to all sea-living mammals,” Aivas remarked.

  The next scene showed the little creature suckling from its mother’s teat.

  “On Earth,” Aivas continued, “there were many mammalian life-forms living in the sea, but only the dolphins, of the family Delphinidae, the bottle-nosed variation, the tursiops tursio, were transported from Earth to Pern. By the time this facility was put on hold, they had already multiplied and prospered well in the Pernese waters. The volume of sea available on this planet was the reason for including the dolphins in the colonial roster. It is good to know that they have survived and seem to be in great numbers now. A census is being taken of pod sightings. Estimates of populations have not been completed, since they seem to have developed a migratory culture.”

  Through this brief synopsis, the screen showed the wondering seaman more dolphins with young calves.

  “That’s nowhere on Pern,” Alemi said, pointing to the screen, suddenly realizing what was “wrong” with the pictures, “at least that I’ve ever seen,” he added.

  “A keen observation, Master Alemi, for this footage was taken on Earth in an area called the Florida Keys. These are the ancestors of your dolphins in their natural habitat. I shall now play scenes of how those dolphins worked with their human partners, called dolphineers.”

  “Doll-fin ears?” Alemi exclaimed, slapping his knee with one hand as he saw men and women working with the dolphins, both undersea and being propelled across the surface of the water alongside their unlikely mounts. “Like dragons and their riders?”

  “Not as close a bond as I am told that is. There is no ceremony similar to Impression as dragons and riders undergo. The association between humans and dolphins was of mutual convenience and consent, not lifelong, though congenial and effective.

  “Certain groups of dolphins—there were more than twenty varieties of the species known on Earth—agreed to the mentasynth treatment in order to form a close working partnership with humans. Those that came on the spaceships with the colonists, twenty-four in number, were experienced in such matters and undertook to explore the oceans and provide certain services to the humans. Up until the eruption of Mounts Picchu and Garben, a high standard of communication was possible between humans and dolphins.”

  “If they like to work with humans, then as a sea captain I’d like to work with them, if I could,” Alemi said. “I owe them my life—and others have. Readis was highly amused that the … d-dol … phins”—he made an effort to say those syllables as one word—“had such good manners.”

  “Courtesy has been observed in the interactions of many species and not necessarily in vocal expression. Other abstract concepts, however, require semantics and suitable attitudes and postures adapted to convey cultural differences.”

  “What would I have to learn to talk to dolphins?” Alemi was pleased to hear how firmly the word came out.

  “There has been a linguistic shift over the centuries,” Aivas began, “but both species can adapt to the changes. Here is an example of
humans interacting with dolphins.”

  A scene unrolled in which a human and a dolphin were checking fish traps of some kind. The human wore some sort of apparatus on his back and a short-sleeved, short-legged black garment with brilliant yellow stripes. The picture was as fresh as if Alemi were at a window looking out onto the lagoon. He leaned forward, not wishing to miss a single detail.

  Alemi watched, fascinated, murmuring to himself phrases exchanged between the pair. The dolphin towed the man, who gripped the dorsal fin, among the traps, inspecting the line. Briefly he wondered what his reactionary father would say to the idea that shipfish could talk.

  “How do you get them to talk to you, Aivas?”

  “It is frequently a matter of record, mentioned by numerous dolphineers, that getting the mammals to stop talking was considered more of a problem.”

  “Really?” Alemi was delighted.

  “Dolphins apparently have an unusual ability to delay ‘work’ in favor of ‘games.’”

  The screen shifted to a new picture and Aivas recognized Monaco Bay—but the bay as he had never seen it: populated with sailing craft of many sizes and types, with vehicles zooming about in the sky like squat, rigid, ungraceful dragons. A huge wharf dominated the farther tip of the Monaco Bay crescent, and then he was looking at a solid plinth, a large bell atop it.

  “I’ve seen that,” Alemi exclaimed, pointing to the bell. “It was hauled up from the seafloor.”

  “Yes. It is being scaled of the encrustations. This bell was rung by dolphins to summon humans when they had messages to deliver, and by humans to summon the dolphins.”

  “The dolphins summoned humans?” Alemi was delighted by the notion. “D’you think they would respond to a bell now?”

  “It is recommended that you use that means of convening them,” said Aivas. “It would be interesting to see if current dolphins would recognize old imperatives. The printed sheets are summaries of files on the subject of dolphins and dolphineers. They also contain the hand signals which the dolphineers used to communicate underwater—which you might find useful—as well as a vocabulary list in the dolphin lexicon.”

  Suddenly thin sheets of the new writing material that the Masterwoodsman Bendarek had been making began to extrude from a slot at the base of the screen.

  “Instructions on how to conduct yourself in reestablishing a meaningful contact with the dolphins, Master Alemi. A report on your progress would be appreciated.”

  Alemi gathered the sheets with careful hands, awed by the responsibility he somehow found himself eager to accept. He had always half envied riders their dragons, though, unlike many of his boyhood friends, he had never aspired to be a dragonrider: the sea was already in his blood. He found his sister Menolly’s fair of fire-lizards engaging, as well as useful creatures, but the thought that he could have contact with an intelligent sea creature was irresistible: creatures as awesome in the medium of water as dragons were in the air.

  As he left the Admin Building, absently responding to the Harper’s farewell, he wondered where he could find a bell that would call dolphins.

  Young T’lion had been watching from his vantage point on the hill behind the Admin Building, so he and Gadareth were landing before Alemi could signal them.

  “How did you know I was here?” Alemi asked, surprised and gratified.

  The boy flushed. “Well, sir, I saw you leave Admin. You walk different. You sort of roll.”

  Alemi laughed. “Look, are you required to be back at the Weyr right away?”

  “No, sir, I’m on duty for you today.”

  “Good. Could we go down to the bay?” Alemi pointed in the general direction of the distant unseen crescent of Monaco Bay. He wanted to see how big the dolphin bell was.

  “Certainly.” T’lion reached his hand down as Alemi neatly jumped to Gadareth’s raised forearm and settled himself between the neck ridges.

  “Do we have to go between?” Alemi asked. “Would it be too long to fly straight?”

  “No, not at all,” T’lion replied.

  So, when Gadareth reached a cruising height, he began to glide toward the sea, now visible as a sparkle on the horizon. Alemi had never had a chance to see much of the Landing area, where so many marvels from the early days of Pern’s settlement had been unearthed over the last Turns. Now he had a panoramic view of the excavated buildings, the old “landing field” and its crumpled tower, even the ship meadow where the three ancient aircraft had been unearthed. They continued over thick forestry that no longer could be destroyed by Thread, protected as it was by the grubs that had spread in the Southern Continent to neutralize the deadly organism.

  T’lion turned his head occasionally to be sure his passenger was riding comfortably; Alemi gave him a thumbs-up signal that he was, and a big grin. This was the longest he had ever flown on a dragon, and he was enjoying it immensely, not even feeling slightly guilty about monopolizing the services of a dragon and his rider for personal reasons. But there was a purpose to the trip, Alemi reminded himself, and felt for the sheaf of instructions he had tucked into his jacket pocket.

  Then the superb vista of the almost perfect orescent of Monaco Bay came into view and what was left of the pier jutting out on its easterly tip. It must have been built of that almost indestructible material the ancients had used. At that, Alemi had heard from Masterfishman Idarolan that half of its original length had been sheered off. Pictures from Aivas’s archives had shown a substantial building at the sea end, floating docks and machinery of some kind. Alemi sighed. There were fishmen out on the deeper waters offshore, plying their ancient trade, which Master Idarolan had said had been conducted in the first days of Pern much as it was now. Some basic skills did not change. Still, so many others had benefited by processes and ideas that had become lost, or disused, during the darker Turns.

  Then, from his lofty perspective, Alemi saw on the beach the long column and what had to be the bell. He touched T’lion’s shoulder and pointed down at it. T’lion nodded his understanding. A moment later, Gadareth angled downward, veering to the right and swinging around so that he landed neatly a few lengths from the flotsam. Despite himself, and hoping he wasn’t hurting the dragon, Alemi tightened his grip on the neck ridge.

  A thick coating of barnacles on the long plinth distorted its actual shape, Alemi noted as he walked its length. The bell, which rested on a stand, was of a generous size—fully four of his hand spans across its mouth. A good deal of the encrustations had been chipped off, and someone was polishing the metal. The clapper was missing. He pinged the bell with an irreverent snap of his index finger and thumb and was mildly surprised to hear a muted tolling, slightly distorted.

  “Here, use this,” T’lion suggested, handing Alemi a fist-sized rock.

  Alemi got a much better sound with that, a mellow rich sound that rolled resonantly out across the bay.

  T’lion grinned. “Nice sound!” So, picking up a larger rock, he clouted the bell, getting a more forceful peal. Grunting, Alemi bent over and peered up inside the bell, trying to figure out how large the original clapper must have been.

  “Mine was louder,” T’lion said, offering his rock to Alemi.

  Alemi hefted both rocks in his hands and then clattered first one, then the other, against the bell, turning his ear to catch the echoes of the lovely sound. Suddenly T’lion exclaimed, looking up at his bronze dragon, whose eyes were beginning to whirl with excitement. T’lion swung his torso halfway toward the water and then stood bolt upright, staring at the bay.

  “Shards! Gadareth’s right! Look!” he cried, urgently pointing.

  Alemi, his back to the water, craned his neck and saw a phalanx of dolphins racing toward the shore, leaping and vaulting out of the water. The waters beyond seemed to be full of dorsal fins and leaping shipfish. The Masterfishman rose to his feet, gawping at the noises that drifted to him.

  “Bellill! Squee! Bellill! Bellill rings! Squeee! Bellill! Bellill!”

  Alarmed by t
heir headlong charge straight to the strand, Alemi raced to the edge of the water, waving his hands. “No, be careful! You’ll beach yourselves! Careful!”

  He doubted his words could be heard over their babbling of “bell” and their squeeing. So he waded out into the water, hoping to turn them aside. Instead, he was butted and knocked off his feet by the many bodies that roiled the waters about him. Then he was uplifted by one dolphin body, nose-prodded by half a dozen more, and seemed to be flipped from one to another of the exultant creatures.

  “Easy! Take it easy! You’ll drown me,” Alemi yelled, half laughing, half sputtering at these exuberant antics.

  A huge shadow compressed the air above him, and he saw bronze Gadareth hovering, his claws extended as if he intended to pluck Alemi bodily from the attentions of the dolphins.

  “I’m all right, T’lion, I’m all right. Call Gadareth off!”

  “They’ll drown you,” T’lion shrieked, jumping up and down on the beach in his concern.

  Simultaneously, Alemi tried to reassure the dolphins, fend off Gadareth, who still saw the human endangered, and reassure the young rider.

  “Belay this!” Alemi roared.

  Abruptly the commotion about him ceased and bottle-nosed faces were turned up at him in a tight circle, an even larger ring just beyond them and more dorsal fins and leaping bodies homing in on him from farther out in the bay.

  “I am Alemi, fishman. Who are you?” He pointed to a dolphin whose nose brushed his thigh.

  “Naym Dar.” The dolphin squeed happily.

  Two words, then, Alemi realized, hearing the first word as a distorted “name.” He was delighted that his question had been understood. “Who leads this pod?”

  A second dolphin did a wiggle and came closer. “Naym Flo. Long … “And the creature used a word that Alemi didn’t recognize.

  “I do not speak good dolphin,” Alemi said. “Say again, please?”

  A ripple of squeeing and clicking greeted that admission.

  “We titch. You listen,” Flo said, turning one eye on him so that he could see the happy curve of its mouth. “Bellill ring? Trub-bul? Do blufisss?”