uplift4.brightnessreef-第58节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　　Being　the　only　noor　present；　Huphu　seems　to　think　it　her　duty　to　scamper　like　a　wild　thing；　taking　perches　high　on　the　derricks　like　they're　ship　masts；　arching　her　back　and　stretching　as　if　the　umble　is　being　sung　just　for　her；　a　physical　hand　petting　her　back；　stroking　the　bristles　on　her　head。　Her　eyes　sparkle；　watching　our　bathy　dip　lower　and　lower　with　Ziz　visible　as　a　single　tentacle　dangling　from　the　wire　cage。
　　It　occurs　to　me　that　maybe　Huphu　thinks　the　little　traeki　is　being　used　as　bait　at　the　end　of　a　really　big　fishing　line！　Maybe　Huphu's　curious　what　we're　trying　to　catch。
　　That；　in　turn；　brings　to　mind　Pincer's　wild　tales　of　〃monsters〃　in　the　deep。　Neither　he　nor　Huck　has　mentioned　a　word　about　it　since　we　arrived；　each　for　his　or　her　own　reasons；　I　guess。　Or　am　I　the　only　one　who　hasn't　forgotten；　amid　all　the　recent　excitement？
　　Wuphon's　Dream　descends　below　the　cliff　face；　and　we　rush　near　the　edge　to　keep　her　in　sight。　Qheuens　don't　like　heights　and　react　by　hunkering　down；　scraping　their　abdomens；　clutching　the　ground。　That's　where　I　go　too；　lying　prone　and　screwing　up　my　courage　to　slide　forward。　Huck；　on　the　other　hand；　just　rolls　up　to　the　stony　rim；　teeters　with　her　pusher　legs　jutting　back　for　balance；　then　sticks　two　of　her　eyestalks　over　as　far　as　they'll　go。
　　What　a　girl。　So　much　for　g'Keks　being　cautious；　High…K　beings。　Watching　her；　I　realize　I　can't　do　any　less；　so　I　creep　my　head　over　the　rim　and　force　my　eyelids　apart。
　　Looking　west；　the　ocean　is　a　vast　carpet　stretching　to　a　far　horizon。　Pale　colors　dominate　where　the　sea　covers　only　a　few　cables'　depth　of　continental　shelf。　But　a　band　of　dark　blue…gray　tells　of　a　canyon；　stabbing　our　way　from　the　giant　planetary　scar　called　the　Midden。　That　deep…deep　gorge　passes　almost　directly　under　our　aerie；　then　drives　on　farther　east；　splitting　the　land　like　a　crack　in　the　clinker　boards　of　a　doomed　ship。　The　far　shore　is　just　a　hundred　or　so　arrowflights　away；　but　rows　of　razor…sharp　crags　and　near…bottomless　ravines　parallel　the　Rift；　making　it　a　daunting　barrier　for　anyone　wishing　to　defy　the　Law。
　　I'm　no　scientist；　regrettably；　I　don't　have　the　mind　for　it。　But　even　I　can　tell　the　jagged　spires　must　be　new；　or　else　wind　and　surf　and　rain　would've　worn　them　down　by　now。　Like　Mount　Guenn；　this　is　a　place　where　Jijo　is　actively　renewing　itself。　（We　felt　two　small　quakes　since　setting　up　camp　here。）　No　wonder　some　think　Terminus　Rock　a　sacred　spot。
　　The　surf　is　a　crashing；　spuming　show　elsewhere；　but　here　the　sea　settles　down　mysteriously…glassy　smooth。　A　slight　out…tow　draws　gently　away　from　the　cliff。　Ideal　conditions　for　our　experiment…if　they're　reliable。　No　one　ever　thought　to　make　soundings　in　the　Rift　before；　since　no　dross　ships　ever　e　this　way。
　　Wuphon's　Dream　drops　lower；　like　a　spiderfly　trailing　twin　filaments　behind　her。　It　gets　hard　to　tell　exactly　how　far　she　is　from　the　surface。　Huck's　eyestalks　are　spread　as　far　apart　as　possible；　trying　to　maximize　depth　perception。　She　murmurs。
　　〃Okay；　here　we　go；　into　the　drink。。。　now！〃
　　I　hold　my　breath；　but　nothing　happens。　The　big　drums　keep　feeding　out　cable　and　hose。　The　bathy　gets　smaller。
　　〃Now！〃　Huck　repeats。
　　Another　dura　passes；　and　Wuphon's　Dream　is　still　dry。
　　〃Sure　is　a　long　way　down…own…own；〃　Pincer　stutters。
　　〃You　can　say　that　again；〃　adds　Ur…ronn；　stamping　nervously。
　　〃But　please　don't；〃　Huck　snaps；　showing　pique。　Then　in　GalSix…〃Reality　merges　with　expectation　when…〃
　　It　serves　her　right…a　splash　cuts　off　whatever　deep　insight　she　was　about　to　share。　The　big　drums'　song　slows　and　deepens　as　I　stare　across　the　vast；　wet　stillness　where　the　Dream　vanished。
　　roomble…doom…doomble…oom…roomble…doom…doom…ble。。。
　　It　sounds　like　the　world's　biggest　hoon。　One　who　never　has　to　take　a　break　or　a　breath。　Based　on　that　umble；　the　big　derrick　would've　won　the　title　of　Honorary　Captain　of　the　South　if　it　came　to　a　vote　then　and　there。
　　Huphu　is　all　the　way　out　at　the　end　of　the　deployer　crane；　back　arched　with　pleasure。　Meanwhile；　someone　counts　off。
　　〃One　cable；　forty。。。
　　〃One　cable；　sixty。。。
　　〃One　cable；　eighty。。。
　　〃Two　cables！
　　〃Two　cables；　twenty。。。〃
　　The　chant　reminds　me　of　Mark　Twain's　tales　of　river　pilots　on　the　romantic　Mississippi；　especially　one　scene　with　a　big　black　man…human　up　at　the　bow　of　the　Delta　Princess；　swinging　a　weight　on　a　line；　calling　out　shoals　in　a　treacherous　fog；　saving　the　lives　of　everyone　aboard。
　　I'm　an　ocean　hoon。　My　people　sail　ships；　not　sissy　boats。　Still；　those　were　among　my　father's　favorite　tales。　And　Huck's　too；　back　when　she　was　a　little　orphan；　toddling　around　on　her　pusher　legs；　four　eyes　staring　in　lost　wonder　as　Dad　recited　tales　set　on　a　wolfling　world　that　never　knew　the　stifling　wisdom　of　Galactic　ways。　A　world　where　ignorance　wasn't　exactly　noble；　but　had　one　virtue…it　gave　you　a　chance　to　see　and　learn　and　do　things　no　one　else　had　ever　seen　or　learned　or　done　before。
　　Humans　got　to　do　that　back　on　Earth。
　　And　now　we're　doing　it　here！
　　Before　I　even　know　I'm　doing　it；　I　sit　up　on　my　double…fold　haunches；　rock　my　head　back；　and　belt　out　an　umble　of　joy。　A　mighty；　rolling　hoot。　It　resounds　across　the　mesa；　strokes　the　grumbling　equipment；　and　floats　over　the　serrated　stones　of　the　Great　Rift。
　　For　all　I　know；　it's　floating　out　there　still。
　　Sunshine　spills　across　calm　waters　at　least　twenty　cables　deep。　We　imagine　Wuphon's　Dream；　drifting　ever　downward；　first　through　a　cloud　of　bubbles；　then　a　swollen　wake　of　silence　as　the　light　from　above　grows　dimmer　and　finally　fails　pletely。
　　〃Six　cables；　sixty。。。
　　〃Six　cables；　eighty。。。
　　〃Seven　cables！〃
　　When　we　go　down；　this　is　where　we'll　turn　on　the　eik　lights　and　use　the　acid　battery　to　send　sparks　up　the　hawser；　telling　those　above　that　all　is　well。　But　Ziz　has　no　lights；　or　any　way　to　signal。　The　little　stack　is　all　alone　down　there…though　I　guess　no　traeki　ever　feels　entirely　lonely。　Not　when　its　rings　can　argue　endlessly　among　themselves。
　　〃Eight　cables！〃
　　Someone　brings　a　jar　of　wine　for　me　and　some　warm　simla　blood　for　Ur…ronn。　Huck　sips　pungent　galook…ade　from　a　long　curvy　straw；　while　Pincer　sprays　his　back　with　salt　water。
　　〃Nine　cables！〃
　　This　experiment's　only　supposed　to　go　to　ten；　so　they　begin　gently　increasing　pressure　on　the　brake。　Soon　they'll　reverse　the　drums　to　bring　Wuphon's　Dream　back　to　the　world　of　air　and　light。
　　Then　it　happens…a　sudden　twang；　like　a　plucked　violus　string；　loud　as　thunder。
　　The　deployer　chief　cries…〃Release　the　brake！〃
　　An　operator　leaps　for　a　lever。。。　too　late　as　bucking　convulsions　hit　the　derrick；　like　backlash　on　a　fishing　pole　when　a　big　one　gets　away。　Only　this　recoil　is　massive；　unstoppable。
　　We　all　gasp　or　vurt　at　the　sight　of　Huphu；　a　small　black　figure　clinging　to　the　farthest　spar　as　the　crane　whips　back　and　forth。
　　One　paw；　then　another；　loses　its　grip。　She　screams。
　　The　tiny　noor　goes　spinning　across　space；　barely　missing　the　hawser's　cyclone　whirl　amid　a　frothing　patch　of　sea。　Staring　in　helpless　dismay；　we　see　our　mascot　plunge　into　the　abyss　that　already　swallowed　Ziz；　Wuphon's　Dream；　and　all　the　hopes　and　hard　work　of　two　long　years。
　　
　　XVI。　THE　BOOK　OF　THE　SLOPE
　　Legends
　　The　urs　tell　of　a　crisis　of　breeding。
　　Out　among　the　stars；　they　were　said　to　live　longer　than　they　do　on　Jijo；　with　spans　much　enhanced　by　artificial　means。　Moreover；　an　urs　never　stops　wanting　a　full　pouch；　tenanted　either　with　a　husband　or　with　brooding　young。　There　were　technical　ways　to　duplicate　the　feeling；　but　to　many；　these　methods　just　weren't　the　same。
　　Galactic　society　is　harsh　on　over…breeders；　who　threaten　the　billion…year…old　balance。　There　is　constant　dread　of　another　wildfire…a　conflagration　of　overpopulation；　like　one　that　burned　almost　half　the　worlds　in　Galaxy　Three；　a　hundred　or　so　million　years　ago。
　　Especially；　those　species　who　reproduce　slowly；　like　hoon；　seem　to　have　a　deep…set　fear　of　〃low…K〃　spawners；　like　urs。
　　Legend　tells　of　a　conflict　over　this　matter。　Reading　between　the　lines　of　ornate　urrish　oral　history；　it　seems　the　bards　must　be　telling　of　a　lawsuit…one　judged　at　the　higher　levels　of　Galactic　society。
　　The　urs　lost　the　suit；　and　a　bitter　war…of…enforcement　that　followed。
　　Some　of　the　losers　did　not　wish　to　settle；　even　then。　They　turned　one　ship　toward　forbidden　spaces；　there　to　search　for　a　wild　prairie　they　could　call　home。
　　A　place　to　hear　the　clitter…clatter　of　myriad　little　urrish　feet。
　　
　　Asx
　　A　STRANGE　MESSAGE　HAS　E　ALL　THE　WAY　from　Tarek　Town；　sent　by　Ariana　Foo；　emeritus　High　Sage　of　human　sept。
　　The　exhausted　urrish　runner　collapsed　to　her　knees　after　dashing　uphill　from　the　Warril　Plain；　so　spent　that　she　actually　craved　water；　raw　and　undiluted。
　　Center　now；　my　rings。　Spin　your　ever…wavering　attention　round　the　tale　of　Ariana　Foo；　as　it　was　read　aloud　by　Lester　Cambel；　her　successor。　Did　not　the　news　send　vaporous　wonder　roiling　through　my/our　core…that　a　mysterious　injured　outlander　showed　up　one　day　near　the　Upper　Roney？　A　stranger　who　might　possibly　be　some　lost　rade　of　the　star…god　visitors　who