Margaret St. Clair (13 page)

Ivry and Pettrus came back from their search with the news that they had found a faint faint trace of Djuna’s smell in the water near Pescadero. They had tried to follow the trace but failed; the water had been too turbulent. But that they had found a tra c e at all meant that Djuna was still alive, and the news heartened us.

When it got dark and the people on the Diamond Lil had gone to bed, the doctor and Madelaine came out of the cabin and we prepared to resume our attempt to make him understand the nature of the covenant.

“What did you mean when you said, ‘Mankind did not originate on earth’?” Lawrence asked without pream ble. “I thought you meant that terrestrial life had originated in, say, spores that came from outside the solar system. But Maddy says that’s not it.”

“No,” I answered, “most terrestrial life is native to this planet. But men and dolphins have a common a ncestor —”

“Go on.”

“—and this ancestor —these ancestors —were not natives on earth.

“Splits and the sea people are the descendants of colonists who came to earth almost a million years ago from a planet of the star you call Altair. The colonists —we cal l them the Old Ones —were mammals, and they were humanoid. They looked quite a bit more like you and Sosa than like us sea people today. But they were amphibious.”

Dr. Lawrence made a strangled noise. “I —go on.”

“When I say they were amphibious, I don’t mean they were like frogs or toads or salamanders. But they were accustomed to living half in and half out of the water, on the littoral, and their culture had grown up in an aquatic environment. Their cities were always built where they would be bathed b y the tides.

“When they came to earth, they found conditions very different from those on their home planet. It was plain they couldn’t reestablish the life they had been accustomed to. They could see that climatic changes —changes they couldn’t control —w ere coming to earth that would make it even more different from the world they knew. They knew they would have to decide whether they were to have an aquatic or a terrestrial mode of life from then on.

“There was a great deal of debate. It was clear that , if they opted for an aquatic life, they would have to surrender most of their material culture and become what we dolphins now are, the people of the word. On the other hand, dryland conditions on earth at that time were very rough indeed, and the Old On es thought it unlikely they would be able to keep their material culture intact.

“The debate lasted for years. Two parties sprang up, one that supported the claims of the dry land and one that favored life in the water. Neither could convince the other o ne.”

“Politics one million years ago,” Lawrence said wryly. “Well, what happened?”

“They decided to separate. The first Sosa suggested this. Each faction should do as it wished. But before they parted, they made the covenant.

“The water was to belong to those who chose the sea, the dry land to those who chose the earth. Each was to respect the other’s domain, each was to help the other if he needed assistance. And each was to remember the covenant.

“This did not happen all at once, of course. It took five or six generations for the separation between the land and water dwellers to be complete. Deliberate changes were made in the germ plasm, a little more with each generation, to fit each of the two groups for its new life.

“These generations were not an easy time for the Old Ones. The poem is full of the pain of separation, of seeing a gulf created between beings that had originally been alike. But at last the time came, the poem was completed, and we parted. But we parted as broth e rs, and in love.”

Lawrence drew a deep breath. “Well! I’ve a lot of questions to ask. But the first one I want to ask is this: are you really saying that, a million years ago, more or less, the earth was populated by intelligent, civilized mammals that l ooked a good deal the way human beings do now?”

” ‘Populated’ isn’t the right word,” I replied. “There were only a few of the Old Ones after the separation had been made. But the rest of what you said is substantially correct.”

Lawrence shook his head. “It’s impossible. All the evidence shows that Homo sapiens originated from a tailless ground ape about, oh, 400,000 years ago.”

“He reoriginated,” I said. “Pettrus, you talk for a while. My throat is getting tired.”

“All right,” Pettrus said. “Do you think it’s impossible, Dr. Lawrence, that there should have been intelligent, civilized mammals on earth about a million years ago?”

“Maybe not impossible,” the doctor said. “But look at the palaeological record. We can trace Homo sapiens’ ancestors back , getting more simian all the time, for about 400,000 years. I don’t see how these brilliant humanoids from Altair fit into it. For one thing, where are their bones?”

Madelaine said, “I know the answer to that. There were not many of them, and they pract iced cremation of their dead. Then they threw the ashes into the sea. Isn’t that right, Pettrus?”

“Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”

“Oh, my dreams! I don’t know why they didn’t leave Other traces —buildings and so on —though.”

“They did leave trac es, I think,” Pettrus answered. “One might still be able to find them, if one knew what to look for and where to look. But the Old Ones’ favorite building material was metal, and in a million years even a corrosion-resistant metal corrodes away. It’s not l ike baked brick.”

Lawrence shook his head. “I’m still not convinced. If their civilization lasted for even a thousand years, it ought to have left some traces.”

“There were never very many of the Old Ones,” Pettrus said patiently. “And their civilizati on began to go down hill almost immediately after the covenant was finally made. It lasted a lot less than a thousand years.”

“How do you know what happened after your forebears took to the water?” Lawrence asked.

“Because we were in telepathic communi cation with the first generations of dryland colonists. But after only a few generations the communication began to fail, and with every new generation it grew feebler. We knew that not only their culture but they themselves, as rational beings, had begu n to deteriorate.

“The original stock had been slow-breeding and long lived. When they began to decline, they bred faster and their numbers increased. But by then we could hardly talk to them any more.”

“What made them go downhill so rapidly?” Lawrence asked.

“We don’t really know,” I answered. “Conditions were rough for them, climatically speaking, and it must have been hard for them to maintain their material culture. But probably the real reason for their decline was that the genetic changes they ha d made in themselves to make them fit for dryland life were unstable. The adaptation had been too fast. The original Altairan stock had really been more suited to aquatic life.”

“They didn’t die out, though?” Lawrence asked.

“No. Their biological dete rioration was the prelude to a slow adaptation to permanent dryland life on earth.”

“How do you know they didn’t die out? You weren’t in touch with them any more.”

“We have two reasons for thinking they didn’t die out,” I said. “One is that, about 500,000 years ago, we began to be aware that something like intelligent life was arising on earth. We couldn’t read their thoughts —they were not really thoughts. But the new life was a little more than merely animal.”

“Couldn’t this new life, new intelligen t life, have been native to earth?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, it could. And we do think that there is a possibility that you Splits are the result of breeding between the deteriorated Altairan stock and native proto-simians. But we are sure that the stock of the Old Ones persisted because, about 200,000 years ago, we renewed the covenant with their descendants, the hominids, the proto-men.”

“Wait a minute,” the doctor protested. “All through this you’ve been talking as if you dolphins were always the same . Didn’t you change any in 800,000 years?”

“Of course we did,” I answered. “We have changed very much since we first went into the water. We are larger and heavier, and very much faster swimmers. Our brains are larger, our verbal ability is greater, and our eyes far better. We have evolved senses unlike any the Old Ones had. But through all the changes, we never lost the memory of the covenant.”

Dr. Lawrence sighed. “The past is opening up,” he said, “and —it’s difficult to believe. How do you know the h ominids were the descendants of the Old Ones?”

“Because they remembered the covenant.”

There was a silence. Madelaine said, “Tell him, Amtor, how the memory was passed on.”

“It wasn’t transmitted verbally,” I said. “The memory was an impression made on the germ cells, and it was handed on genetically.”

“I am not much enlightened,” said Lawrence. “But this was the second covenant?”

“Yes.”

“Was any means of enforcing it provided?”

“No. The covenants never depended on force. The Old Ones had hope d we would be bound by the love we had for each other.”

“What about the third covenant?”

“It was made about twenty thousand years ago, between us, the sea people, and the first true men. Like the other covenants, it was something lived.”

“Did the sea people make a poem about it?” Lawrence asked.

“No. By then we and the dry-landers had grown too far apart from each other for making a poem to be worthwhile. The new men thought they were making the covenant for the first time.

“I will tell you one th ing more about the covenant, Dr. Lawrence, though I don’t think you will understand it. The covenant looks forward. Part of it —is yet to be made.”

“No, I don’t understand that,” he said. “Is this all you are going to tell me about the covenant?”

“It is as much as there is any point in telling you. Now that you know, do you think you can use it to help us? Have you learned anything that would add to our armory?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered heavily. “It’s possible that after I —what was that?”

The
Akba r had rocked sharply and then been slammed against the piling of the jetty with such force that Madelaine, who was standing, was almost knocked from her feet.

“It’s a quake!” Ivry honked excitedly. “There’s been another earthquake!”

“Be quiet,” Madelai ne said softly. She had caught at the boat’s railing to steady herself. “Yes, that was another earth quake. But it wasn’t an accident, any more than the first one was.”

“What do you mean?” Lawrence demanded.

“The navy has dropped another mine into Bent his Canyon. They wanted to test what Dr. Lawrence had told them. Now they know he was telling the truth.”

-

Chapter 10

“We must separate,” Dr. Lawrence said. Madelaine had only just finished speaking; the water around the Akbar was still arush with motion from the quake. “As long as we Splits are with you sea people,” he went on, “the danger is much greater for both parties than it would be separately. We can make arrangements to meet later. There are sure to be attacks on us, now the government knows I was telling the truth. We must separate.”

“No,”
Ivry said flatly. “Attacks or no attacks. We stay together. You’re trying to get Moonlight away from us.”

Lawrence bit his lip. “No, I’m not. How could I get Maddy away from you unless she was willing to go? Amtor, see if you can’t reason with him. You’re a sensible person.”

“It’s not my place to try to reason with Ivry,” I answered. “Why don’t you ask Madelaine what she thinks of your idea?”

“All right. Maddy, wouldn’t i t be wise for us to separate, at least for a while?”

A pale, strange rain had begun to fall from the charcoal sky. It faintly stung. Madelaine answered flatly. “It doesn’t matter whether or not it would be wise. It’s already too late.”

“What makes you say that?” Lawrence replied keenly. “Is this more ESP?” He was always markedly and, it seemed, disproportionately interested when Sosa displayed any evidence of paranormal powers; sometimes I thought he was jealous of her, and that his life was motivated b y desire for an ability he had good reason to believe existed and yet had never been able to attain.

“I don’t know,” Madelaine answered. Her voice was high and strained. “More like Udra, I guess. I’ve changed since I was unconscious so much.—Oh, I wish I knew what to do! I can’t think what would help.”

“What are you talking about?” Lawrence demanded. His voice had risen a little, too, in response to the alarm in hers.

“Look in the water,” she answered. “The attack has already begun.”

Lawrence obeyed, looking over the Akbar’s side. “There’s a froth —a thick whitish scum —floating on the water,” he said after a minute. “I don’t know what’s causing it —the latest quake, I suppose. But I don’t see what it has to do with an attack. Froth can’t do any harm.”

“Can’t it?” Madelaine replied with a strange look at him. “The foam is getting deeper every minute. You can see it grow.”

“But it’s still just froth —”

“The dolphins are air-breathers,” Madelaine explained. “They breathe at the surface of the water. What will they do for air when the foam is two or three feet thick?”

“But—it may not get that thick,” the doctor answered a little stupidly. “Besides, they can always swim out beyond the foam to where the water is clear. They’re fast swimmers. I don’t understand why you’re so alarmed.”

“Where can they swim to?” Madelaine answered. She was twisting her fingers together. “The navy planes have broadcast the fo am-producing chemical all over the bay. The dolphins would choke long before they could get to the open sea.—Oh, if I could only think of something that would help!”

The foam, which had begun as a mere scum on the water, was puffing up fantastically. It felt warm and rubbery, with a faint oily smell, and even when we arched our bodies in the water, we could not get our heads above it. We were not yet much frightened; it had happened suddenly, and we sea people can hold our breath for quite a time. But we could not breathe foam, any more than a man could. We would have to have air.

Through the muffling, constantly thickening blanket of the foam, I heard Madelaine say, “Untie the Akbar and take her out from the jetty, Doctor. Hurry! We may be able to use h er to clear a swath in the foam.”