The Farpool Read Online Free

side and had to retreat. The waters frothed
with blood and viscera and still they fought on.
    The battle raged in near stalemate until the
nightwaters came. Both creatures were exhausted, yet fought
automatically, as if guided by unseen hands to destruction. The
mesodont had lost three of its eight legs, pincers and all, while
the seamother bled freely from deep gashes in her belly and head.
One eye was shut, ripped out and scabbed over. Squeals of pain and
anger had long since been replaced by a deathly chittering,
clicking away the last moments of life.
    Somehow, despite its crippling injuries, the
mesodont mustered enough strength to burrow so deeply into the mud
that it became impervious to continued attack. The seamother was
enraged by this and tore furiously at the mud and silt but not fast
enough to catch up. Soon, only a bruised gray hump was all that
protruded from the mud. With that, the seamother bellowed
forlornly.
    Twisting her broken body, she bounded for the
surface, several hundred beats above them. The waters of the
Orkn’tel were clear enough to see when she breached it in an
explosion of foam and bubbles. The paroxysm of anger lasted for
several minutes, then suddenly, the seamother was quiet. She
drifted at the surf ace, dragged by waves toward some distant
shore, unknown to the Seomish. They pulsed in fascination at the
sight.
    Kloosee spoke first, after a moment’s
reflection.
    “When they die, they seek Notwater. That’s
homewaters to them…like the Umans.”
    “Amazing,” was all Pakma could say.
    Kloosee waited a few more moments but
the way seemed clear and he lifted the kip’t on its jets and resumed their journey. “I
haven’t see Puk’lek in these
waters before. She was well south from her normal feeding
grounds.”
    “Probably the Sound from the wavemaker,”
Pakma surmised. “Everybody’s trying to get away from it.”
    Kloosee piloted them on, toward the
Serpentine gap and the rough waters where the great currents split
apart, the P’omtor continuing west and the Tchor slicing through
the gap toward the abyssal plains to the south, toward Omsh’pont
and home.
    Pakma turned about her cockpit sling and
watched the cargo pod dangling behind them. For the moment, their
captive was quiet, floating without motion in the enclosure. She
wondered what it thought about the seamother. Was it even still
alive?
    “Kloosee, those creatures we saw, the ones in
the Notwater…they seemed pretty intelligent. Don’t you think? I’m
wondering if we shouldn’t get a specimen the next trip.”
    “Assuming Longsee approves another
trip.” Kloosee was concentrating on bearing the kip’t toward the left, fighting through tricky
cross-currents. “The last few times, we’ve always brought back the
same creatures…they seem intelligent, but they don’t add much to
the project. I don’t think they’re going to help us very
much…Longsee told me that himself.”
    “The ones we saw that came after us…the
Tailless…did you see their eyes, Kloos? They had that look, you
know…that sparkle…like that ‘ I don’t know
what you are but I’m curious’ look. We’ve always used
curiosity as a measure…maybe we should be looking elsewhere. Are
you going to say anything to Longsee…those Tailless did try to attack, after all. Good
thing you had the blinder… that knocked them out.”
    Kloosee steered them deftly toward a
huge V-shaped notch in the Serpentine. He slowed down and let the
faint fingers of the Tchor current grab them, first shaking them
like an angry fist, then hurling them through the decline.
The kip’t sounded ahead,
tasting turbulence and the sled shuddered as it passed through the
gorge. Steep craggy flanks surrounded them, not visible in the
heavy silt and murk, but Kloosee knew danger was near and he was
careful with the controls, adding just a touch of rudder or jet as
needed. Pakma held her breath…one little eddy, one little bump, a
few seconds drift in the wrong