Fossil (1993)

by Hal Clement

  “I guess they’ll do all right with Rek,” the latter said as they approached the road. “Can you find your way back to the office? I can steer you from overhead if it will help.”

  Hugh reviewed his memory of the Naxian-guided trip and accepted the offer, so they entered the Guild structure together a quarter hour later and reopened with the first Crotonite official they could find the discussion of Rekchellet’s safety.

  This one, who had not been present at the time of their earlier visit, also admitted that the Naxians in the orbiting station did claim ability to do major physical repairs even on fliers, but no one had yet been willing to take them up on the offer. He knew a male named Ennissee who had lost wing membranes to freezing and was currently using prosthetics; these were less than satisfactory, but he had loudly declared that he would never be the first to subject himself to the experiments of a bunch of crawlers.

  Hugh and Reekess heard this with great interest but little surprise, nor were they astonished to hear that the Guild office did not know Ennissee’s present whereabouts. He was believed to be somewhere on the Solid Ocean, but his vehicle had no neutrino transmitter.

  At this point, the most obvious explanation for what had happened to Rekchellet was a little hard for a civilized being to believe, in spite of the way some Crotonite societies treated their ambassadors. It tended to make Reekess think rather more kindly of nonfliers, or at least to narrow the culture gap a little. They thanked their informant and let him go his way.

  Hugh took the opportunity to call Pitville, in the line of duty. Nothing serious had happened in the dig, and he had of course postponed the intended exanimation of the Cold Pole site until his return; the people he had drafted had returned to their regular tasks. He wanted to be there himself if and when anything were found. At the moment, Pitville life was pure routine, Janice told him with a straight face and steady fingers. Hugh promised to return as soon as possible to corrupt it for her, and turned his attention to an impatient and verbose Guild subordinate who seemed to care for little except that everyone should know he was a native of Earth itself and that he wanted to use the transmitter. The discussion provided no useful information.

  Hugh had not thought to ask about the age of the corpse since his wife had evaded S’ Nash’s question so many hours before, and for the moment nothing was farther from his mind.

  Even with the rather halfhearted enthusiasm of the Crotonites in the office, Reekess seemed to feel a little better about Rekchellet’s being under Naxian care by the time a call came down from the orbiting station. She listened closely, however, as the few words came through their translators.

  “Rekchellet is conscious. His mind appears undamaged. He wants to talk to friends. His wings will need extensive regeneration, as will his hands and feet. This will take about half a Habranhan year.”

  Hugh acknowledged with appropriate thanks, and turned to his companion.

  “I’ll go up to see him. I assume you’ll come too, regardless of air.”

  “I can get a breather here. Certainly I’m coming. You sent our flyer back with Janice; how do we get there?”

  “Our machine wouldn’t have made it safely anyway; it could drive in space, but might not protect its occupants properly. There are regular Naxian shuttle flights, I gather. Get your mask and come on.” Reekess obeyed, and a few minutes later they were back at the site where they had left their own craft a few hours before.

  There was another Naxian shuttle waiting, and no objection was made to their boarding, though neither attempted any explanation. It did not lift immediately, however; it seemed to be a scheduled carrier, and fifteen or twenty minutes passed before its hatch closed without announcement and the craft headed skyward. Over a quarter of an hour was spent on the flight, much of it in maneuvers presumably designed to match orbits without straining passengers used to low gravity. The vessel did not attach itself to an outer lock via catwalk or tube, but entered a much larger one, and waited for the doors to close behind it and the surrounding space to fill with air. The lock chamber was only a little larger than the shuttle, however, so the latter process was brief.

  They were at the station axis, in free fall. Hugh and Reekess were both reasonably experienced in this condition, and followed a Naxian guide with no trouble. Presently rotation, still by far the most reliable form of artificial “gravity,” made itself felt, and in a few minutes they were progressing along a passage which had a definite floor. Weight increased until they had about a quarter Erthumoi normal, standard for Crotonites but noticeably more than either Hugh or Reekess had experienced for a long time. A few meters of travel along a corridor at this weight level brought them to a door, like all in the station capable of making an airtight seal, and this led into Rekchellet’s room, if it could be called that.

  It was much larger than a typical hospital chamber and contained much equipment, only a little of it obvious in function to the visitors. A number of Naxians were busy at various stations. The Crotonite’s body was hanging from padded straps; all his limbs passed through sealed sleeves into opaque tanks in which, presumably, the cold-damaged tissue was being replaced by new growth.

  The general setup impressed Hugh as an experimental arrangement combining biological and mechanical gear, which might not be too far from the truth.

  If Rekchellet could move any limbs the fact was not evident, but his eyes were open and it became clear at once that he could speak.

  “Hugh! And — Reekess, isn’t it? Sorry I made such an idiot of myself.”

  “We don’t know much of what happened,” the Erthuma answered, “but the fact that we found you just as you planned suggests that you handled things pretty well. We gather you came up against another Crotonite, so you needn’t feel too low.”

  “What have you figured out? I’ll correct what’s necessary and fill in the rest. It’s a little hard to talk with my wings pinned this way.”

  “I won’t say I understand that, but I can believe you. All right, you met this other Crotonite— Ennissee? — who was accompanied by several Habras while you were herding the truck westward on the long leg of its map. Somehow they got your translator away from you, and delayed you while they took over the truck from Third-Supply-Watcher. Then you came back to the truck, got or were given your translator back, and had an argument or at least a discussion with Ennissee, who seems not to speak your language.

  “We don’t know what was said, of course. Eventually the autodriver was set on a westward path and the truck started, the Locrian was freed and told falsely that interfering with the autodriver would shut off the general power and endanger her life. You had written a rather obscure note about not giving Ennissee date information freely, while he or she was setting up the driver. The two of you left together. We found another note from you on a food wrapper which did help us find you; we knew you couldn’t have been planning to fly directly to the Cold Pole, and searched the truck’s line until we found your note, and then were guided by it until we found you. I’m afraid there’s a good deal you’ll have to tell us, even if talking isn’t easy. Make believe you’re in my armor, full of diving juice and using code.”

  Rekchellet’s rigid features, consisting largely of beak, did not permit a grimace, but a sound much like a human snort suggested the same meaning to the Erthuma.

  “That was Ennissee, all right. He’s a Wildwinder, a Trueliner, firmly convinced that we’re descendants of the Seventh Race and entitled to everything they’ve left.”

  “‘We’ meaning Crotonites in general.”

  “Of course. Well, ones who agree with him, anyway. He’s heard of my disagreement with that idea somewhere — I’ve never made any secret of it, though I’ve never flown around making public speeches on the subject — and has a low opinion of me. My association with Naxians, Erthumoi, and similar crawlers doesn’t help either, except to reinforce his opinion.”

  “I suppose he tried to change your opinion in the truck.”

  “No. I
don’t know whether he considered that hopeless, or considered me worthless. He talked about the Pit project, and what we must have found, like plant roots, and maybe whole bushes. What it all led up to was a query whether our people might date the frozen body in the truck.”

  “We have, though I don’t know what answer Ian got. Why do you think Ennissee wants to know?”

  “I can’t even guess. I’m just suspicious because he didn’t simply ask us. You Erthumoi would have done the work and given him an answer without thinking twice, and Spreadsheet-Thinker is just the same. A Crotonite wouldn’t, and he was being very Crotonite, and trying to trick us out of the information, I’ll bet. What do you think, Reekess?”

  “It seems to fit. You’ve met him, though; I haven’t. You have, I judge, more reason to distrust him.”

  “I do. Plenty. When we left the truck, he’d never given me back my tracker; his Habras got that when he first took my translator. He said we’d fly to a food cache he’d established and then go on to others until we reached his own dig — he’d said a little about that, but no details; I’m only guessing that that’s where he found that frozen Habra — near the Cold Pole. I was already pretty tired and hungry, and he flew fast. Those factory-made wing membranes of his saved him a lot of heat, too — you know about them?”

  “Third-Supply-Watcher told us. We heard a little more at the Guild office. Tell you later.”

  “Well, I was pretty well done, and had dropped a kilometer or so behind, when he finally came down. I never saw his cache. I don’t know where it was or what it was, so I don’t know if Habras could spot it. When I landed beside him he was just finishing a food pack, and there were no more in sight. He chuckled, ‘Good-bye, Friend-of-Crawlers!’ tossed me the wrapping, and took off to the west. You know the rest. He doesn’t like me, and it’s mutual. Please don’t do him any favors.”

  “So it looks as though the truck was sent to Pitville just to get us to date that body. He knew he’d have no trouble getting it back; we’d be bound to use it to search the track recorded by the autodriver.”

  “That’s how I see it,” agreed Rekchellet.

  “Except — does he have the truck again now? He must have known we’d find it, even if he hoped we wouldn’t find you and maybe hoped we’d find it too late for Third-Supply-Watcher. He couldn’t have cared much about either of you. The last I knew, it was abandoned where the Locrian stopped it and transferred to our flier. We left power and lights on, so anyone could find it again easily enough, but would he or any of his people have dared to come back after what they did to the two of you?” “I’d think not.”

  “‘That puts me back to an earlier idea I was toying with. I wonder if he’s trying to get us to visit this dig he told you about…”

  “He’s a liar!”

  “Granted. He may still want us to go there tor some reason of his own.”

  “A good reason for not going!”

  Reekess spoke for the first time in some minutes. “You really don’t want to see him again?”

  “I do, very much,” snapped Rekchellet, ““but not until I’m out of this machine and able to fly a few hundred kilometers.”

  “You want me to wait ten or twelve Common Days until they’ve patched you up, before we go out there?” Hugh stated.

  “I’d certainly appreciate it. Look — think of Hnnissee, waiting to see whether you’ve swallowed his bait — wondering when you’re going to arrive— trying to explain to his Habras why nothing has happened yet…”

  “I wouldn’t have supposed he could get Habras to work for him,” mused Hugh. “They don’t go for deceit, and certainly not for the sort of thing that was done to you.”

  “You’re generalizing,” pointed out Reekess. “There must be all sorts of Habras, just as there are all sorts of Erthumoi and Crotonites and Naxians. Besides, there were no natives around when Rekchellet was abandoned, as I understand his story. Ennissee’s assistants may not have any idea of the nasty part of his actions; they may simply be helping in another research dig.”

  “I suppose so,” agreed Hugh. “You talk like my wife. I assure you that’s a compliment. But they helped take Rek’s tracker…”

  “We can find out from them later,” Reekess countered. “We already know Ennissee’s a liar, and why. He could very well have lied to them, too. Are you willing to…”

  “What do you mean, you know why?” Rekchellet could move no limbs, but obviously wanted to.

  “It seems that he doesn’t want to be the first Crotonite to undergo Naxian regeneration. We think he arranged for you to be a preliminary test subject.”

  “In that case,” Hugh keyed hastily, “he must have made some arrangement to have you found while there was still time to use you that way.”

  Several Naxians approached, and one of them uttered an admonitory “You are disturbing the patient. He should remain relaxed, and make no effort to move.”

  “All right. There’s plenty more to do. I suppose we’d better report all this to the Guild, too, before…”

  “NO!” snapped both Crotonites together. “I’ve lost enough self-respect from this,” Rekchellet continued alone. “Asking for help from anyone but personal friends and sharers of responsibility would make it worse.” His beak snapped firmly shut, and he stared hard at Hugh. Reekess was looking at Rekchellet; Hugh couldn’t read any expression on her features but was fairly sure she approved his words, but asking one of the closely watching Naxians was hardly advisable.

  “All right. I tell only Janice, and Reekess tells whomever she considers appropriate. She can make up the group to go out to the Pole. We’ll run it pretty much as we planned before, but this time carry food for everyone on the flier. You decide, Reekess, whether we take few enough folks to cram aboard or whether it’s all the flying people I can talk out of Barrar.

  “And if anyone comes up with the smallest glimmering of an idea why we’re wanted out there, and how we can keep from doing just what Ennissee wants when we do arrive, please tell me before we start!”

  He intended to get another opinion on that point, of course, but not to confide that matter to the Crotonites.

  An hour and a half later, they were back in Pwanpwan, and Hugh had made contact with Barrar. The Samian seemed unconcerned about the loss of Rekchellet’s services for a time, and didn’t even appear greatly bothered by the fact that the aircraft were all in use again and it would be a day or so before Hugh and Reekess could be picked up. The Erthuma was beginning to wonder what a steady job of chipping ice at the bottom of a lake of liquid air would be like when the administrator went on: “There’s something Spreadsheet-Thinker wants checked at Pwanpwan while you’re there. We understand there’s another fossil dig being planned,” Hugh’s eyebrows shot up, “and we’d like details. Apparently the entire crew is native, which is reasonable enough, but makes it awkward for Guild contact. You have Habra friends — you’ve been here longer than most Erthumoi, longer than most anyone except the Crotonites, and I can’t see using them where tact is wanted.” Hugh glanced at Reekess, but she seemed to be developing the sort of control Rekchellet had learned. She showed no sign of irritation. “Let us know when you hear something, please,” Barrar continued. “Then we’ll send an aircraft as soon as possible for the two of you.”

  He signed off before Hugh could either point out that the flight would take only minutes or ask sarcastically whether the return was conditional on his getting the information, and long before he could report what they had already heard from Shefcheeshee. After a moment of thought he decided that this might be just as well, and refrained from calling back.

  He deliberately ate before doing anything else, and then began taking steps to locate his various Habra friends. He should probably find out more than the Cephallonian had told them.

  The planet’s population was only in the millions, but even one million is a very large number. They had a single culture spread over the “Iris” continent. Any native might be anywhere, as
work or whim dictated. This did not promise well for finding anyone.

  On the other hand, the Habras were highly civilized, had a single worldwide language, communicated naturally by electromagnetic waves, and had a sophisticated search system which worked very quickly for people actually on the continent; ones on the dark hemisphere or working undersea were quite another matter.

  In less than an hour, after talking to three natives on or over various parts of the Iris, he had found Bill, the first native he had come to know at all well and with whom he and Janice had shared danger under Habranha’s seas. Bill knew all about the proposed fossil dig, though he was not involved himself; it was no secret, though no one had bothered to make a point of telling alien visitors about it. He had not known that a Cephallonian was involved.

  It was to be on the ocean bottom in silicate sediment rather than ice. The Habras were quite used to dealing with this material; they mined it regularly to fertilize the ice of their floating continent. There were only two new developments involved. One was a technique for boring vertically into presumably hard mud instead of skimming soft stuff from the surface; this the Habras had worked out themselves.

  The other was a means of sensing and identifying organic remnants in the material being searched. This involved a Big Box, an Erthumoi artificial intelligence. The Habras did not share the prejudice against such equipment held so firmly by the five non-Erthumoi star-faring species, and had not proven very susceptible to efforts to transmit it. Bill was enthusiastic, and wished he had gone on the trip, but the crew — of two — had already been selected when he had heard about the project. Ship and workers had been visiting the bottom now for over two years. He was voluble with details about the submarine, which he had himself handled, and displayed an interest in fossils and paleontology which he had never shown during his earlier association with Hugh, Janice, Rekchellet, and their other Crotonite partner.