ARC: Under Nameless Stars Read Online Free PDF Page B

gate hinge mixed with stuttering laughter; the other, louder sound was a synthesized Transvox voice.
    “Is the female biped noun mammal seeking personal pronoun my own identity?” he said.
    “I’m… sorry?” was all Zenn could manage.
    The Alcyon interpreted. “I think Jules meant to say, ‘Were you looking for me?’”
    Before Zenn could respond, the Transvox voice went on, “Personal pronoun me am here verb transporting two circular sugar-candies on paper-sticks into colloquialism the washing machines.”
    “And that,” the Alcyon said, “was to say, ‘I am about to take these two suckers to the cleaners.’” The Alcyon reached over the table to tap on the cybernetic arm extending from the upper-body area of the one called Jules. “Adjust your Transvox again, friend. You speak nonsense.”
    One of Jules Vancouver’s mech-hands fiddled with a control pad on his other mech-arm, and he spoke quietly, as if talking to himself. Again, the fainter liquid chirps and squeaks were overlaid by the Transvox voice, but then the squeaking sound grew softer as the unit’s frequency dampers kicked in, allowing the artificial voice to be heard more clearly. “Testing, testing… Under the wide and starry sky, dig the grave and let me lie… It was the best of times, it was the worst…”
    Satisfied the device was working properly, he looked up at her and the Transvox voice said, “I apologize for my translating device. It requires fresh soft-codes. And I’m eager to know who you are and your purpose. But look…” One mechanical hand gestured at the pile of colored discs on the table in front of him. “I’m winning. Please, sit.” He gestured to a chair by the wall, then bent his smiling, beaked face back to his cards as if he’d known her for ages and she’d just stopped by for a friendly chat.
    Zenn couldn’t help herself.
    “You’re a dolphin,” she blurted. The others all looked at her. “I mean…” Her mind scrabbled this way and that, searching for something sensible. “I mean, Father didn’t say you’d be a dolphin. When he told me. About you.”
    “Your father? I will assume he and I are acquainted?” the dolphin said as one mech-hand counted through his piles of discs.
    “Oh, yes, you’re definitely acquainted,” she lied as innocently as she could manage. “From Earth. From his time on Earth. Where you’re… from.”
    Several silent seconds passed. Jules the dolphin looked up and blinked at her expectantly.
    “But,” Zenn said, “I don’t want to intrude. On your game.” She smiled idiotically. “Why don’t you just go ahead and finish? I’ll wait.”
    Jules took another look at his cards, pushed the mound of colored discs forward and peered at her again. “You have a quantity of freckles across the skin of your nose and facial area. They are distinctive.”
    “I suppose they are,” she said, smiling in spite of herself beneath the scarf, which she now checked nervously to ensure it was still in place. She was beginning to get the hang of listening to him speak. She had to ignore the twitter of his natural vocalizations and force herself to listen only to the Transvox speech coming from the two small speakers attached to his walksuit’s harness.
    Zenn had studied basic dolphin physiology as part of Sister Hild’s class on Earther marine ecology back at the cloister. She knew a little about dolphin culture, about their somewhat troubled history of contact with human society on Earth. She also knew that walksuits like the one he wore were hugely expensive and only available on a limited basis. The suit consisted of two legs and two arms, both powered by hydraulic micro-actuators at the joints, with a central web-like arrangement that cradled the sleek, gray body of what Zenn judged to be a young, six- or seven-foot-long bottlenose dolphin.
    “I am calling your bets with my cards,” Jules declared to the others. “Peruse them and commence weeping.” He released the