Free Silent Songs by A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley Page B

woman thought, and returned to where Thunder was finishing the last of her fish.
    "You always wear that same expression whenever you talk to Sunrise,"
    Thunder signed, then wiped her bloodied beak on a driftwood log. "Why is that, Good Eyes?"
    "I'm just disappointed," the human explained. "I want her to like us, but I'm not making much progress."
    Thunder seemed unconcerned. 'That one is as solitary as a Hunter, even though she eats no animals. It's her nature."
    "That's not true," Tesa signed. "Her people live more communally than the White Winds. For her to remain so far from others must be a painful, lonely thing."
    "You must be wrong about that, Good Eyes," the raptor signed.
    "Can you believe these coral reefs?" Jib couldn't hide his awe as Bruce piloted them through the calm ocean waters.
    The older man whistled through his teeth as he stared through the wide portals. "And those colors! The primary hues are electric, and the pastels more subtle than any I've ever seen. Like
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    nothing on Earth, that's for sure. Of course, I never got to New Zealand.. .."
    Jib shook his head, smiling. "Not even there, mate."
    Growing up in the Land of the Long White Cloud meant never being too far from water, and Jib had mastered the waves in every vessel he could. His great-grandmother, Nui Tapuna, the family's lone traditionalist, said that he'd always be waimarie, lucky, with water, that his good fortune was kept inside an ancient greenstone tiki she'd given him at birth.
    After a week mucking around in the bush it was a treat to be in this smart little ship hovering over a coral reef that no human had ever seen. "This is ever something. You're filming?"
    Bruce nodded. "That, and mapping. We've got to come back with some hard data or Tesa will accuse us of pleasure cruising."
    "Bruce, look!" Jib pointed straight ahead.
    A massive school of fish suddenly poured out of a hole in the reef like a thousand clowns from a tiny aircar. Each one was about the size of Jib's hand, and each identical in shape with its neighbor, but no two held the same color pattern. Jib blinked hard, the vivid colors hurting his eyes. Each fish had its own pattern of stripes, spots, or mottling. He realized dazedly that the patterns moved, undulating and pulsing across their flat bodies, even when the fish were motionless. The flashing patterns were so disturbing, he had to glance away.
    "Incredible," Bruce breathed. "This is a whole new phenomenon in natural camouflage! We've gotta see these guys closer." He leaned over and shut off the Automatic Protection System, and in seconds the entire ship was enveloped by the school. "Tesa would love this!"
    Jib nodded. The fish floated right against the portals, touching the clear barriers with their mouths and their fins, undulating their colors so brightly it reflected on the walls of the small vessel like strobe lights.
    Time passed quickly, so after a while, Jib glanced at the chrono. Humans had divided Trinity's long day into twenty-eight and a half Terran hours. It was now just past twenty hundred, which made it near dusk at this time of year. A hunger pang reminded Jib of one forgotten priority--dinner. Watching Bruce manipulate the controls, he asked, "We headed back?"
    The weatherman nodded.
    The fish followed the ship right into the river, along a deep crevasse. Bruce had no trouble navigating by instruments. "They'll return to the sea when the fresh water bothers them," the weatherman said. "We're gettin' really good film."
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    Jib could include a clip in the letter he'd record tonight for Anzi, and wondered--if she were here--if she'd be able to read anything mentally from such simple animals.
    Then, without warning, the Maori was struck by a powerful wave of vertigo.
    He lurched forward, nauseated and unbalanced.
    "Jib, what's the matter?" Bruce asked, grabbing his arm, steadying him. "You all right, son?"
    He thought at first it was a reaction from the flashing fish, some obscure epilepsy. Dimly, he