by Hal Clement
“Where have you been, master? Did you hope to find inspiration here? This swimmer doesn’t even rouse Crotonites any more.”
The tone was Naxian. The words had certainly not been addressed to Hugh. Suddenly, however, as one of the nearby serpentlike forms moved and left the one beyond it recognizable as S’Nash, another pattern flowed together in his mind. The words combined with memories to make sense, and the sense was promptly supported.
S’Nash had turned toward the newcomer who had plainly been addressing it/him; now it/he swerved to face Hugh again, hesitated, then finished the turn, with a simultaneous gesture of one of his handlers apparently intended for the other Naxian. The words to Hugh were the same as long before, but this time no effort was made to cut off the sentence.
“Good for you!” That was all; the two wriggled away together. It was for once enough, at least for Janice.
Barrar admitted the details on their way back to the aircraft. He had been tied much more closely with Ennissee’s project than he had admitted earlier. He had helped convey the frozen Habra body from flyer to truck, since the Crotonite had not been strong enough to do the job alone and his Erthumoi were at the “dig.” He had then been carried back by the Crotonite in the Pitville aircraft Ged had been regularly and surreptitiously providing, but only to the outskirts of Pitville, to minimize the time he would have to account for; Spreadsheet-Thinker was not as casual an administrator as Ged had implied when claiming to have all routines worked out. The truck had come to Pitville on its own autodriver, starting enough later to hide any obvious connections, while Ennissee had taken his borrowed flier back to the Cold Pole dig to work out, presumably, the rest of his plans. Ged still disclaimed any closer involvement in these than he had admitted already. The Erthumoi kept their remaining doubts tactfully to themselves.
They still felt quite uncertain. The picture was fuzzy, but there seemed no way to clarify it without interviewing Ennissee, and neither one particularly wanted to do that. Rekchellet would, no doubt, come through in that direction, and neither wanted to spoil either his fun or his results.
More of the picture, however, came from S’Nash after they were back in Pitville, the Samian safely occupied in his office, and the Naxian verbally cornered in Hugh’s office.
“Emotions are fun,” it/he said quite directly. “I almost told you about that long ago when you asked what we do for amusement. A little later I thought you’d about figured it out, but then decided you’d simply spotted the trick Rek and I were playing.
“A lot of people enjoy watching fear or surprise or similar excitement — the obvious stuff. More cultured and artistic ones try to read and grasp really subtle emotions such as those accompanying^ — oh, the realization that one’s reasoning or inspiration has been correct, or the glow of perceiving how both parties have profited from a deal.”
“And you’re one of the latter, of course?” Janice asked.
“I sense irony. I like to think I am, of course, but there are many other challenges to the art. Some beings are much more difficult to read than others. Erthumoi collectively are the easiest, Samians by far the hardest of the Six, though there are of course exceptions like you two in both groups. I like to think I’m an expert with Samians.” Janice had drawn her brows together; her husband was sure what she was thinking about, whether S’Nash knew or not. In fact, both must have been wrong, for her next words rolled out almost without planning or thought on her own part.
“You’d get quite a reading if we told Ged that you’ve known all along what Ennissee was doing, wouldn’t you? That the people at your medical station had enjoyed his feelings as he stole that specimen? I wonder whether they merely gave tacit assistance, or actively tricked him into doing it. That they passed the information on to you and maybe other Naxians here at Pitville so he could be kept under observation as a source of — of amusement?”
“How did you-?” once again the Naxian cut off his speaker too late; as if realizing this, he turned it back on almost as though making a gesture of surrender. “You’re surprised — but you didn’t know until I spoke — you’re triumphant now — I told you myself, then — but you must have had some suspicion, or you could never have said such a thing! Where did the suspicion come from?”
“Like me, Jan is uneasy about coincidence,” her husband answered. “I know as well as you do we Erthumoi often have an unrealistic idea of what makes an improbable coincidence, but you should have allowed for that. As I’m sure you can see, it was all her idea, not mine. We just aren’t as conscious of what goes on in our heads as you people are, I guess. At least. I don’t know why I can recognize Jan’s face or voice. Anyway, you’ve certainly told us now. I wonder what Ged will say, and do? It’s a pity Jan and I can only infer his feelings from his words and actions, isn’t it? They should form a real work of art.”
“But you won’t really — but you will! Why? You don’t feel any strong emotion that I can find. Neither of you does, most of the time. You’ve been very disappointing that way, though you’ve been very helpful in — why do you intend so firmly to tell Barrar what I just confessed.”
“Call it an experiment,” Janice replied, as expressionlessly as she could. She wondered whether the Naxian were telling the truth about her and Hugh’s being hard to read, but for the moment didn’t care much, since she had made up her mind. “Come along, S’Nash. You wouldn’t want to miss it, would you?”
The Naxian watched as the Erthumoi couple turned toward the central office. It/he started to follow them, hesitated and turned away, shivered the length of its/his serpentine body, reached a decision, and followed once more. The Erthuma was right; this would be something no one had ever read from a Samian — though what the Samian would do next—
He was civilized, of course. There would be no risk of violence. But he was in charge of work assignments.
It would certainly — almost certainly — be worth it.
It wasn’t, S’Nash insisted later to Hugh and Janice. It was, in fact, very disappointing. Ged Barrar was far too objective, and his internal simmerings were just barely readable. They had been a real challenge, to look at the bright side. The Naxian’s eyes had remained fixed on his unwaveringly and the snakelike body might have been cast as a tight coil of metal. The Erthumoi had watched with equal intensity.
“I can’t decently complain,” Barrar said after some moments of silence. “I was doing very much the same thing for my own plans. Still, we can’t have this sort of thing going on too freely among people who need to trust each other, can we?” He paused thoughtfully, and might have been examining the charts on his walls, though not even S’Nash could tell where he was actually looking.
“The Pits are getting pretty deep,” he said at length. “Spreadsheet-Thinker feels we need a communication center at the bottom of each. It will, of course, have to be manned by an Erthuma or a Habra eventually, but until the pressure becomes excessive a real communication specialist would probably be best to set things up. Don’t you agree?”
“Well…” began S’Nash.
“There’s really no one but a Naxian I can assign, anyway. Please spread the word. I’d prefer volunteers, of course. You will have to tell me just what equipment will be needed — remember it will have to stand liquid air temperatures. I know you Naxians already have good armor for that. I’ll need a listing in, oh, six hours or so. I can tell you in two more when the gear will be available, and set up a watch schedule. I’m sure I won’t have to draft someone who just happens to be handy; there will be plenty of volunteers, won’t there? Let me know.”
The Naxian maintained its/his tension for another half minute, though the Erthumoi could only guess why. Something was holding its/his attention, and did so until Barrar finally said rather loudly, “That’s it, S’Nash. Any questions?”
It/he shivered, relaxed, intimated understanding, and accompanied Hugh and Janice out of the office.
“You’re still alive,” the woman remarked. “Oh, yes. It was interesti
ng, but not inspiring.
What are you folks going to do for the next few hours’?”
“Do you care?”
“Not for the reason you suspect. I’ve already said you two are rather disappointing as subjects; you don’t seem to have very intense emotions. Janice now was just cold-bloodedly trying to observe the results of the ‘experiment’ she was performing. There was none of the nice anger or satisfaction of revenge feeling which some of my less artistic acquaintances would have expected.”
“And maybe even wanted?” cut in Hugh.
“Conceivably. But that would call for a rather— well — crude observer. What are you planning?”
“Work, of course,” keyed Hugh. “We’ve been letting that slide for much too long. I’m surprised Ged didn’t have something to say about it. Maybe he’s too bothered by what happened to his own hopes. At the rate the Pits are going, digging and emplacement routines are going to have to be changed pretty quickly now, and we’re not ready for it. I wasn’t really expecting to get enough Erthumoi able to do the job; there aren’t enough of us on the planet, and most of them can’t seem to learn enough personal control to work safely with diving juice. I was hoping we could solve the Habra armor problem before we had to go recruiting on other Erthumoi worlds.”
“Just what’s the difficulty?” the Naxian asked.
“Thermal insulation. They never bothered with it for their wings, which aren’t living tissue. In their undersea equipment they just make sure their diving fluid doesn’t leak around the wing roots, and flap at their pleasure — an experienced Habra submariner talks casually of ‘flying’ under water. If they tried that in the Pits, their wings would shatter almost at once at liquid air temperatures. Ted said something about a breakthrough not long ago; I’m calling him again as soon as we get to the office.”
“I thought he was just one of your safety people.”
“He is, but he really wants to do Pit work himself, and has been keeping in touch with the Habras who are doing the armor development. Stay with us; you may get a kick out of watching me get good news — or bad.”
“Even second hand, I would prefer the former.”
Some hours later, he expanded on that remark.
“Hugh, I’m still refining my skills with Habras, but right now they seem even happier than you. I’ve watched six of them now in the Pits, and while the analogy may not be good, I’d say they were dancing. Even you must be getting some sort of impression — if your own glee isn’t drowning it out.”
“I am. I knew they’d like it; Ted’s frustration at being able to watch the work there only from above was clear long ago even to me. I expect the excitement will die down a bit when they settle into routine, but they have a good, solid interest in the work over and above its novelty. That’s part of the reason you’re sensing so much happiness from me.”
“And Jan, I notice. She is less directly affected; I can’t understand why her feelings should match yours so closely.”
“You probably will. Ten hours from now we’ll be rid of this diving fluid for at least two years, Ged promises. We’ll be able to eat. We’ll be able to talk. We’ll…”
“Is it that uncomfortable? And why would he have made such a change in his charts — oh. You persuaded him; your self-satisfied triumph is blatant. How?”
“It’s not so much uncomfortable as inconvenient.” Hugh went back to the first question. “You should have listened to my words instead of trying to read my feelings. You should have stayed here for the last few hours instead of going off to watch Habras, too. You missed a lot.
“Just after you left, I had an idea, and got back in touch with Ennissee’s Erthumoi helpers. I knew they’d been present when the body in the truck, was originally found, because the female mentioned the circumstances. It was one of a group of natives who seemed to have died at the same time and place. I asked if either of the two could find the actual site again, and after some back-and-forth between them that I couldn’t follow because they cut the sound off, they decided they could, within two or three kilometers, and maybe closer when they got another look at the locale. Ennissee, they assured me, could get us there more precisely, but I didn’t want to get in touch with him before Rek’s had his chance.
“To make it brief, Ged now plans to make a study of the mass-kill site, and try to work out just what happened to the group, and why apparently none escaped to get their adventure into Habra history. With his original fossil disqualified — you know what that did to his feelings — he jumped at the chance for another paper, and will be with us on the search trip. I don’t know or care what he said to Spreadsheet-Thinker.”
“I wish I’d been with him when you made the suggestion.”
“I’m sure you’d have enjoyed yourself. I suggest you visit Ged and see whether he’ll include you in the group. It’s a pity you can’t influence feelings.” The Naxian’s answer was slightly hesitant.
“You have a procedure called tact which I’ve been watching you use with Crotonites. I am not sure of my own expertise in it, of course, but trying it on a Samian will at least be interesting. Thank you very much, Hugh.” The Naxian left, apparently deep in thought.
S’Nash was lucky, luckier than either Erthuma felt that it/he had a right to be, on two counts. It/he arrived at Barrar’s office just as the Samian, in his slow way, finally got around to calling the Naxian hospital. He was hoping, without regard for Rekchellet’s desires, to get from Ennissee where the frozen bodies had been found; and S’Nash was able to enjoy his reaction when the Naxians assured him they had no Crotonite under treatment. Ged’s next call was to the Guild office, which informed him casually that Ennissee, still with his prosthesis, had left Habranha long before on a Crotonite hyperjump vessel. For once, even a Samian was easy to read, S’Nash said later.
It/he then practiced tact by offering to tell Rekchellet this news so as to spare Barrar the touchy task, and Samian gratitude got the Naxian a place in the forthcoming expedition, after only a little argument.
Whereupon S’Nash went in search of Rekchellet and broke the news of Ennisee’s departure. The results were all it/he could have hoped, even to a momentary thrill of fear for its/his own safety. The Erthumoi admitted they would like to have watched.
In spite of their low speed, two trucks were used for the search; they would want to bring the bodies back if they found them. Hugh and Janice took turns driving one. Rekchellet taught them what he knew of the autodriver, but they seldom bothered to engage it, merely allowing it to record their path. It had been decided not to bring Ennissee’s former helpers along, and the other truck was handled by Barrar, with S’Nash, and two of Counter-of-Supplies Erthumoi stock handlers to furnish muscle. Rekchellet and one Habra, Miriam — Ted was enjoying Pit work too much to come along — accompanied the vehicles but seldom entered them. Plant-Biologist rode with Hugh and Janice since it was fairly likely that the bodies would once more have been covered by drifting ice dust. The Locrian liked to discuss his subject, but got little chance, since his Erthumoi companions were reveling in the new freedom of their vocal cords.
The area described was about three hundred kilometers north and a little east of Pitville, not too far from open ocean. The notion that the victims they were seeking had perished in a more or less ordinary Habranhan storm seemed reasonable. The Erthumoi had learned from their native friends that this was not very unusual; the disappearance of even a large party near the terminator would probably not have gotten into history.
Chen and Spear had given detailed descriptions of the landscape where the discovery had been made, and it seemed unusual enough to offer little trouble. The spot was at the foot of a nearly vertical cliff, some three hundred meters high and several kilometers long, extending northeast-southwest, faulting had not, as far as anyone had seen, played a large part in forming the topography of the Solid Ocean. This was what had attracted Ennissee’s attention in the first place; much of his early searching had consisted of examini
ng the cliff face, and much of the testing of his mole had been at its base.
Finding what seemed to be the right neighborhood proved easy enough. Narrowing the search down from that point turned out to be more awkward, however.
About half the five kilometer length of the cliff had — not exactly collapsed, but seemed to have been partly melted. Rekchellet’s immediate conclusion was that Ennissee had come back with a heavy duty heat beam to destroy traces of his work. This appeared much less likely to the others, but argument seemed pointless. Habranha’s chaotic weather might very well have brought a mass of warm air, or even a heavy rainstorm, even this far beyond the terminator. The Crotonite asked sarcastically why a cliff which must have stood for hundreds of Common Years — even he did not claim thousands, on this world — should pick the present moment to get itself destroyed. He was not impressed by Hugh’s answer that one time on Habranha was as likely as any other, and that he was showing a rather Erthumoi attitude toward coincidence. This silenced, but did not convince, him.
After some hours at the still undisturbed part of the cliff face, one of the mole’s test tunnels was found, and a little later another. The separation of the two could be matched with the detailed instructions given by Chen and Spear, and led the party to the edge of what would have been called a talus slope on a silicate world. The upper part of the cliff had been partly melted, but much had simply broken away; jagged ice boulders extended a hundred meters from the cliff’s foot and formed a heap lying against the vertical face.
Half an hour of careful searching by the Locrian, who was in turn being carefully watched by Janice, revealed a suspicious object at approximately ground level under the heap only a short distance from the escarpment’s foot. Even Plant-Biologist could not see distinctly through that much broken and tumbled ice, to the Erthuma’s intense interest, and a difficult and dangerous job of digging had to be started. There were no heat projectors with the group. There were no picks, either, to Hugh’s disgust; it should have been obvious, he growled loudly, that something besides shovels would be required. Not all the ice on Habranha was fine dust. The shovels were strong enough to be used for chipping, but progress was slow until Rekchellet flew back to Pitville and had two picks improvised in the shop there. No one was willing to wait until a sweeper with a heat beam could be driven to the site, and none of the sweepers would fit through the lock of an aircraft.