K'tha-Jon had become Lieutenant Takkata-Jim's constant companion. Together with Metz, the three were the chief opponents to Tom Orley's plan. There was still bad bile over it. Takkata-Jim had become more taciturn than ever.

The vice-captain was becoming a real problem. Creideiki felt compassion for the lieutenant. It was not his fault this test cruise had become a crucible. But pity would not prevent Creideiki from promoting Hikahi over his head as soon as the crew was reunited.

Takkata-Jim was likely aware of what was coming, and of the report the captain had to write on each of his officers for the Uplift Center. Takkata-Jim's right to have special, bonus offspring might be in jeopardy.

Creideiki could imagine how the vice-captain felt. There were times when even he felt oppressed by the towering invasiveness of uplift, when he almost wanted to squawk in Primal, "Who gave you the right?" And the sweet hypnosis of the Whale Dream would call to him to return to the embrace of the Old Gods.

The moment always passed, and he recalled that there was nothing in the universe he wanted more than to command a starship, to collect tapes of the songs of space, and to explore the currents between the stars.

A school of native fish swam past. They looked a little like mullet, kitsch mullet, in garish, metal-flake scales.

He felt a sudden urge to give chase, to call his hardworking crew out to join him in — a hunt!

He envisioned his stolid engineers and techs dropping their harnesses to join in the squealing pack, nimbly driving the poor creatures, catching them in midair as panic drove them leaping above the surface.

Even if a few fen got carried away and swallowed some metal, it would be worth it for morale.

* All the rains of Spring,

And then, one secret evening,

Riding waves, the Moon… *

It was a Haiku of regret.

There was no time for hunt-games, not while they themselves were quarry.

His harness chime announced that he had only thirty minutes' air left. He shook himself. If his meditation had gone any deeper Nukapai might have come. The chimerical goddess would have teased him. Her gentle voice would have reminded him of Hikahi's absence.

The observation buoys bobbed nearby, tethered by slender strands to the seabed below. He swam closer to the smooth red and white ovoid K'tha-Jon had worked on, and noticed that the access plate had been left ajar.

Creideiki's head bobbed as he cast narrowly focused sound. The odd geometry of the buoy and guy wires was mildly disturbing.

His sonar-speak receiver buzzed. An amplified voice came to him over the neural patchline.

"Captain, thisss is Takkata-Jim. We've just finished testing the impellers and the stasis generators. They're working up to your new specs. Also, Suessi called to say that the… the Trojan Seahorse is coming along. Hikahi has arrived there and sends greetingsss."

"Good." Creideiki sent the words directly along the neural link. "Has there been anything from Orley?"

"No, sir. And it's getting late. Are you sure you want to go with this plan of his? What if he can't get a psi-bomb message back to us?"

"We have already discussed the contingencies."

"And we're still going to move the ship? I do think that we ought to talk it over one more time."

Creideiki felt a wave of irritation. "We'll not discussss policy over an open channel, Pod-second. And it's already decided. I'll be back shortly. Meanwhile, search for loose ends to bite off: We must be ready when Tom calls!"

"Aye, sir." Takkata-Jim didn't sound at all apologetic as he switched off.

Creideiki had lost count of the number of times he had been questioned about this plan. If they lacked faith because he was "only" a dolphin, they should have noted that the original idea was Thomas Orley's! Besides, he, Creideiki, was captain. He was the one saddled with saving their lives and honor.

When he had served aboard the survey vessel James Cook, he had never witnessed its human master, Captain Alvarez, questioned this way.

He slashed his tail through the water until his temper cooled. He counted until the calming patterns of Keneenk settled over him.

Let it go, he decided. The majority of the crew did not question, and the rest obeyed their instructions. For an experimental crew, under immense pressure, that would have to do.

"Where there is mind, there is always solution," Keneenk taught. All problems contained the elements of their answer.

He commanded his manipulator arms to reach out and grab the access panel to the buoy.

If the buoy was in good order, he would find a way to praise Takkata-Jim. There would be a key to reach the lieutenant, to pull him back into the ship's community and break his vicious cycle of isolation. "Where there is mind…"

It would only take a few minutes to find out if it was in I working order. Creideiki plugged an extension from his neural socket into the buoy's computer. He commanded the machine to report its status.

A brilliant arc of electric discharge flashed in front of him. Creideiki screamed as the shock blew out the motors of his harness and seared the skin around his neural tap.

A penetrator bolt! Creideiki realized in stunned rigidity.

How…?

He felt it all in slow motion. The current fought with the protective diodes of his nerve amplifier. The main circuit breaker threw, but the insulation almost immediately buckled under backlash.

Paralyzed, Creideiki seemed to hear a voice in the pulsing, battling fields, a voice taunting him.

# Where there is mind — is mind,

is — also deception

# Deception — is, there is #

In a body-arching squeal of agony, Creideiki screamed one undisciplined cry in Primal, the first of his adult life. Then he rolled belly-up, to drift in a blackness deeper than night.

"Like most species derived from wholly carnivorous forebears, the Tandu were difficult clients. They had cannibalistic tendencies, and attacks on individuals of their patron race, the Nght6, weren't unheard of early in their uplift.

"The Tandu have remarkably low empathy for other sapient life forms. They are members of a pseudo-religious alignment whose tenets propose the eventual extermination of species judged 'unworthy.' While they observe the codes of the Galactic Institutes, the Tandu make no secret of their desire for a less crowded universe, or their eagerness for the day when all laws are swept aside by a higher power."

"According to followers of their 'Inheritor' alignment, this will happen when the Progenitors return to the Five Galaxies. The Tandu assume that they will be chosen, come that day, to hunt down the unworthy.

"While waiting for this millennium, the Tandu keep in practice by indulging in countless minor skirmishes and battles of honor. They join in any war of enforcement declared by the Galactic Institutes, whatever the cause, and are often cited for use of excess force. 'Accidental extinction' of at least three spacefaring species has been attributed to them.

"Although the race has little empathy for their patron level peers, the Tandu are masters of the art of uplift. In their pre-sentient form, on their fallow home world, they had already tamed several local species for use as hunting animals: the equivalent of tracking dogs on Earth. Since release from indenture, the Tandu have acquired and adapted two of the most powerful psychic adepts of the recent crop of clients. The Tandu are under long-term investigation for excessive genetic manipulation in making the two.