From the Ocean from teh Stars Read Online Free PDF Page A

distress. But it's not very often we have to do anything drastic like that; as I said, nowadays they're too well trained."
    "I can appreciate that," said Franklin. "In fact, I heard somewhere that the fence was more for keeping other animals out than for keeping the whales in."
    "That's partly true, though we'd still need some kind of control for
    rounding up our herds at census or slaughtering. Even so, the fence isn't perfect. There are weak spots where generator fields overlap, and some times we have to switch off sections to allow normal fish migration. Then, the really big sharks, or the killer whales, can get through and play hell. The killers are our worst problem; they attack the whales when they are feeding in the Antarctic, and often the herds suffer ten per cent losses. No one will be happy until the killers are wiped out, but no one can think of an economical way of doing it. We can't patrol the entire ice pack with subs, though when I've seen what a killer can do to a whale I've often wished we could."
    There was real feeling—almost passion—in Burley's voice, and Franklin looked at the warden with surprise. The "whaleboys," as they had been inevitably christened by a nostalgically minded public in search of heroes, were not supposed to be much inclined either to thought or emotions. Though Franklin knew perfectly well that the tough, uncomplicated characters who stalked tight lipped through the pages of con temporary submarine sagas had very little connection with reality, it was hard to escape from the popular cliches. Don Burley, it was true, was far from tight lipped, but in most other respects he seemed to fit the standard specification very well.
    Franklin wondered how he was going to get on with his new mentor —indeed, with his new job. He still felt no enthusiasm for it; whether that would come, only time would show. It was obviously full of interest ing and even fascinating problems and possibilities, and if it would oc cupy his mind and give him scope for his talents, that was as much as he could hope for. The long nightmare of the last year had destroyed, with so much else, his zest for life—the capacity he had once possessed for throwing himself heart and soul into some project.
    It was difficult to believe that he could ever recapture the enthusiasm that had once taken him so far along paths he could never tread again. As he glanced at Don, who was still talking with the fluent lucidity of a man who knows and loves his job, Franklin felt a sudden and disturbing sense of guilt. Was it fair to Burley to take him away from his work and to turn him, whether he knew it or not, into a cross between a nursemaid and kindergarten teacher? Had Franklin realized that very similar thoughts had already crossed Burley's mind, his sympathy would have been quenched at once.
    "Time we caught the shuttle to the airport," said Don, looking at his watch and hastily draining his beer. "The morning flight leaves in thirty minutes. I hope all your stuff's already been sent on."
    "The hotel said they'd take care of it."
    "Well, we can check at the airport. Let's go."
    Half an hour later Franklin had a chance to relax again. It was typical of Burley, he soon discovered, to take things easily until the last possible moment and then to explode in a burst of activity. This burst carried them from the quiet bar to the even more efficiently silenced plane. As they took their seats, there was a brief incident that was to puzzle Don a good deal in the weeks that lay ahead.
    "You take the window seat," he said. "I've flown this way dozens of times."
    He took Franklin's refusal as ordinary politeness, and started to insist. Not until Franklin had turned down the offer several times, with increas ing determination and even signs of annoyance, did Burley realize that his companion's behavior had nothing to do with common courtesy. It seemed incredible, but Don could have sworn that the other was scared stiff. What sort of man, he