Startide Rising (Uplift Trilogy Book 2)

by David Brin

But the first dolphin-crewed starship had to be different. It was designed around a principle which had guided Earthlings for two centuries: “Whenever possible, keep it simple. Avoid using the science of the Galactics when you don’t understand it.”

The dolphin writhed in panic. As the shock rolled past them, Keepiru cried out the basic call for air. Desperately, the fin drove for the surface. They breached, and Toshio just missed getting blasted by spume from Keepiru’s blowhole. Keepiru commenced a series of leaps, gyrating to shake loose his unwelcome rider. Each time they went underwater Toshio tried to call out. “You’re sentient,” he gasped. “Damn you, Keepiru … you’re … you’re a starship pilot!” He should be doing his coaxing in Trinary, but it was no use trying, when he could barely hold on for dear life. “You pea-brained … phallic symbol!” he screamed as water slammed against him. “You over-rated fish! You’re killing me, you goddamned … The Eatees own Calafia by now because you fins can’t hold your tongues! We never should have taken you along into space!” The words were hateful. Contemptuous. At last Keepiru seemed to have heard. He reared out of the water like an enraged stallion. Toshio felt his grip tear loose, and he was flung away like a rag doll, to hit the sea with a splash. Only eighteen cases were known, in the forty generations of dolphin uplift, in which a fin attacked a human with murderous intent.

Dolphins are all right—some of my best friends are fins. But they were a funny bunch to try to make into a space-traveling race!”

They feared the “Golden Age” syndrome … the temptation to “look backward”—to find wisdom in the oldest, dustiest texts, instead of the latest journal.

Creideiki had trouble taking this very seriously. Charlie made it sound like a whodunit! Only in this case the culprits were civilizations, the clues whole cities, and the rug under which the evidence was being swept was a planet’s crust! It was the perfect crime! After all, the cop on the corner only swings by every few million years, and is late, at that.

If only she could afford to hide away from the dangerous universe in abstractions, like Charlie Dart did.

As Metz alluded, the primary purpose was to evaluate a dolphin-crewed, dolphin-commanded spacecraft. Streaker and her complement were the experiment.

Judgment, Creideiki mused, thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason.… Sometimes he thought that the Bard must have been half dolphin, himself.

“I am not discouraged when you grow frustrated with the Library,” the Niss said. “I am glad. I learn from your frustration! You question things that all Galactic society takes for granted. “Only secondarily am I here to help you, Mrs. Orley. Primarily, I am here to observe how you suffer.”

The night blew wet with scattered blustery sheets of rain. Glossy broadleaf plants waved uncertainly under contrary gusts from a wind that seemed unable to decide on a direction. The dripping foliage glistened when two of Kithrup’s nearby tiny moons shone briefly through the clouds. At the far southern end of the island, a crude thatch covering allowed rain to seep through in slow trickles. It dripped onto the finely pitted hull of a small spaceship. The water formed small meniscus pools atop the gently curving metal surface, then ran off in little rivulets. The tappity-tap of the heavy raindrops hitting the thatch was joined by a steady patter as streams of runoff poured onto smashed mud and vegetation beneath the cylindrical flying machine.

* The saddest of things To a dolphin—even me— Is to die alone.… *