Winter in Eden

force sent it over on its side, dipping the high dorsal fin into the water. There were Yilanè there, holding on, being washed away: a flood of dark water entered the opening on the top. Then the backsurge of the waves straightened it up again and he saw the round, empty eye of the creature well above the water.
    It was beached, injured, half out of the water. The enteesenat were hurrying back and forth just outside the breaking waves, still leaping high in their consternation. They were strong swimmers, they were safe; it was their charge the uruketo that was lost.
    The next time a large wave hit the great dumb beast it was rolled still further over on its side, its fin flat in the water. Nor could it recover. One great flipper stuck straight up, beating feebly, sporadically. Kerrick could see the water surging in and out of the open dorsal fin. When the water drained back down the beach the crew began to emerge. They were battered, dragging themselves out desperately before the next wave washed over them. One of them was just emerging, dragging one of her companions, when the wave hit. They both disappeared in the breaking wall of water. When it rushed on, far up the beach, they had vanished.
    Though the uruketo was doomed, the flailing fin now motionless, the crewmembers were still struggling.
    The waves were not breaking with the same terrible strength, the tide was on the way out and the wind was dying. Kerrick could see one of them, probably the commander, standing waist-deep in the streaming water, directing the survivors. They emerged from the gaping fin with bundles, dragged them up onto the beach, then went back for more. They did not salvage very much for the opening in the top of the fin was collapsing; they had to drag the last crewmember free.
    There were only five survivors who dropped down wearily next to the little that had been salvaged. Four of them had collapsed onto the sand, but the other one stood stiffly, staring as they all were at the dying creature in the waves.
    Winter in Eden - Harry Harrison
    Hèsotsan held ready Kerrick walked slowly toward them. Why not? None of them were armed, they were battered by the sea, would offer no resistance. But they were still able to talk. They would have to speak to him, tell him what had happened in the city. He could hear the blood pounding loudly in his ears as he approached them. Now he would know.
    He could see them clearly as he came close, noted the way the one who was standing was bent forward. A familiar stance. Of course!
    "Erafnais, he called out, and when the commander turned to stare at him in undisguised astonishment he smiled wryly. "You must remember me, commander. How many other ustuzou have you ever talked to?"
    CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
    Erafnais looked at the tall form standing before her, befuddled, shocked. Her head was tired, heavy. She swept the transparent membranes over her eyes to clear away the last of the salt water. "Kerrick?" she said numbly.
    "The same."
    The crew turned at the sound of voices, registering confusion and concern. "Give them orders," Kerrick said, using the forms of she-who-is-highest to those-who-are-lowest. "Tell them to do nothing, to obey you. If they do this they will not be hurt. Do you understand?"
    Erafnais seemed numbed and incapable of comprehending what was being said to her. They all were like that, Kerrick realized. Erafnais pointed at the dead, or dying, beast and spoke slowly with fargi-like simplicity.
    "My first command. I was there soon after it was born, fed it fresh caught fish with my own hand. That is what a commander must do. They have some intelligence, not much, but it is there. It knew me. I helped with the training, doing what the instructors taught me. I know the creature is old, fifty-five, almost fifty-six, they don't live much longer than that, but it was still strong. We should have been at sea, this never would have happened, not in this restricted channel with a storm on its way. But those were the orders."
    She turned a hopeless look of despair upon Kerrick. "You sailed in her, I remember. We had a good crossing, rode out a storm, never a problem.
    The crewmembers were on their feet now, listening as he was, for they had lived aboard the uruketo, too.
    It was their home, their world. One of the crewmembers dropped to the sand again; the movement drew Kerrick's attention. No, she wasn't sitting, she was taking something from among the bladders and containers on the beach.
    Winter