Classic Fiction

by Hal Clement

  Morning finally came without any serious incident in camp or at the bathyscaphe; and once the hill on which the camp was located ceased to be an island—it had been surrounded by the usual rainfall, but not by ocean, as far as anyone could tell—the group headed for the spot where the bathyscaphe was expected to be. This meant a walk nearly as long as that of the previous night, since Swift and his people had expected little motion on the part of the stranded machine. Raeker didn’t know whether Easy had reported any drifting; he hadn’t heard her voice very often during the last forty-eight hours.

  Raeker himself wasn’t sure how far to believe the predictions of the natives, and wasn’t sure how far he wanted to believe them. If they proved right, of course, it would mean a lot to the geophysicists; but it might also mean that Easy had some grounding for her optimism about the day’s events. That was good only if it was solid grounding; and Raeker could not for the life of him imagine how the girl expected the machine to be either flown, blown, or carried up to a point where the shuttle could meet it. On the few occasions that he had dozed, his sleep had been troubled by wild nightmares involving volcanoes, floaters, and forms of sea life whose shapes never became quite clear.

  There was no question of how the geophysicists felt when the predicted spot was reached and the bathyscaphe found to be absent. They buzzed like a swarm of bees, hurling hypotheses at each other with scarcely time to listen to their neighbors. Aminadabarlee fainted, and constituted an absorbing first aid problem for several minutes until he revived by himself, none of the men having the slightest idea of what to do for him. Fortunately, the ship turned up after a quarter of an hour’s search exactly where it had been left the night before, which made things easier on the fathers but left many human beings and quite a few Tenebrans rather at a loss for an explanation. The sea had certainly been there; Easy had reported as much. Apparently its transporting power had been lower than expected. Some of the scientists pointed out that this was obvious; this much farther from its natural bed, the sea would be correspondingly more diluted with water. It satisfied him and some of his friends, but Raeker wondered how a slightly greater dilution of something which must already have been pretty pure H20, as pure water went on Tenebra, could make that much difference. He wondered what excuse Swift was using, but couldn’t find out.

  Nor could he find, except by guesswork, the nature of the plan that was being executed before the robot’s eyes.

  Hunting parties—judging from their armament—were sent out in great numbers, each one accompanied by one of Fagin’s pupils with his ax. The raft made trips to the bathyscaphe, and Swift and several others examined its surface with great care; Easy seemed to be talking to them while this went on, but Raeker and his companions couldn’t hear what she said. The natives were greatly interested in the hot area at the top of the vessel, where its refrigerators pumped back overboard the calories they had drawn from the living quarters; they started to climb up the hull, by means of the numerous handholds, to examine this more closely. This act, since the craft was circular in cross section and just barely not floating, started the whole vessel rolling toward the raft; the climbers dropped back hastily. One of them fell into the lake, lost consciousness before he could grasp the paddles thrust down to him, and had to be showed clumsily into shallow oleum by his fellows lying on the raft above him. This brought the raft itself closer to the robot, and Raeker was able to hear Nick remark to Betsey, “This will save a lot of time. If the teachers inside don’t mind, we can roll that thing over here where we can work on it.”

  “We may do it whether they mind or not, if Swift get’s the idea,” was the reply. “We’d better ask in English first.”

  “Right. Let’s get back out there.”

  The two slid the raft back into the pool and paddled back toward the stranded vessel. This time Raeker knew what the conversation was about even though he couldn’t hear it, and he knew how it came out—he could see Easy nod her head in assent. It was several seconds before a frightening thought struck him, and made him call the engineering department.

  “Will turning that bathyscaphe over do any harm?” he asked without preamble. “The natives are planning to roll it out of that pool.”

  The men at the other end exchanged glances, and then shrugged at each other.

  “Not as far as I can think at the moment,” one of them said. “The ship was designed to fly, and it was assumed that inverted flight might be necessary. The kids may be bumped around a bit, and anything they’ve left loose will tumble, but nothing vital should suffer.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” Raeker said feelingly, and turned back to his screens. The raft was on its way back to shore, and Nick was calling something to Swift. Raeker could get only a word or two, since the native language was being used, but he could tell easily enough what was being discussed. Swift got aboard as soon as the craft reached wading depth, loading it to capacity. Back at the bathyscaphe, he and Betsey seized the handholds on the hull and began carefully to climb, Nick staying on the raft to keep it out of the way. Raeker expected some more accidents, but the climbers showed surprising skill and co-ordination, keeping just above the liquid surface as the ship slowly rocked toward them. It was lucky that the handholds extended all over the hull; Raeker was sure they hadn’t checked this point before starting their stunt.

  A quarter turn brought the hot “exhaust area” into contact with the pool, and set the oleum bubbling furiously—or as close to bubbling as anything could come under Tenebra’s atmospheric pressure. There was enough disturbance to attract the attention of the natives on the ship, but not to be visible from shore.

  Two full rolls brought her to wading depth, and robbed her of enough buoyancy to make another climber necessary. Three turns brought her right side up at the shore line. A slight complication arose when the climbers dropped off and she started to roll back, and for the first time Raeker was able to make himself heard and listened to; he gave some rapid advice about placing chocks, which Nick heeded. With the hull stable and the children staring out at the robot a few yards away, Raeker thought he might learn what was going on, and used the machine’s speaker.

  “Hello, Easy. We’re finally together.”

  “Hello, doctor. Yes, your people are here. I thought we’d be able to do without them, but they’ve been a big help. Are you staying to watch the rest?”

  The question startled the biologist, to put it mildly.

  “Stay here? We’re just starting to work. I’ll call the engineers and have them listen in while I explain the electrolysis circuits to Nick and the others; they’d be here now, only I didn’t expect the ship available quite so quickly. We’ll find whatever wires are corroded or disconnected, and—” Easy must have started talking before he got that far, but the transmission lag delayed his hearing her interruption.

  “I’m sorry, doctor, but I’d rather not have Nick fooling with the ship’s wiring. I don’t understand it myself, and I don’t see how he possibly can keep from making mistakes. We’re going up shortly, anyway, so please don’t let him get into any of those inspection ports, if they’re really open.” The girl spoke as pleasantly as ever, but there was a note of firmness which no human being who heard her could mistake. Raeker was surprised, and then indignant.

  “What do you mean, you’d ‘rather not’ have Nick work? Who else can? If you think he’s ignorant of electricity, what good will it do for you to take over—or Swift? This plan has been under way for weeks, and you can’t—”

  “I don’t care how long it’s been organized, and I can,” replied the girl, still politely. “Swift will do what I ask, and Nick will do what Swift orders. We’re going to try Swift’s idea first; I’m sure it will work, but if it doesn’t perhaps we’ll think about yours again.”

  Raeker looked around helplessly; the kid was right. There was no way in the universe for him to enforce his will. Maybe her father—no; Rich was listening in the communication room, and the relay screen showed somet
hing like an expression of satisfaction on his face. The biologist surrendered.

  “All right, Easy. Will you tell me what this plan of Swift’s is? And how, if you don’t trust me and Nick, you can possibly consider an ignorant savage like one of these cave dwellers worth listening to?”

  “Your scientific friends do,” Easy replied pointedly. “If I tell you, ’Mina’s father will hear, and he’ll start thinking of things wrong with it, and that’ll get Dad worried. You just watch; it won’t be long now.”

  “How does your young friend feel about not telling his father?”

  “He doesn’t mind, do you, ’Mina?”

  “No,” piped the young Drommian. “Dad told me to do what Easy said, and besides, he was rude to her. We’ll show him!”

  Raeker raised his eyebrows at this, and somehow felt a little happier about the whole matter. If someone was going to make a fool of Aminadabarlee—

  And then Swift’s plan became perfectly obvious. A group of hunters reappeared, towing among them the helpless form of a floater. The dangerous tentacles of the creature had been removed—it was obvious now why an axman had accompanied each group—and enough of its gas cells punctured so that it could be held down; but some were still intact, and their intended use could easily be seen.

  The hydrogen cells of the bathyscaphe possessed, naturally, pressure equalizing vents on the lower side of the hull. While these vents opened into the cells on the wrong side of the plastic membrane designed to prevent hydrogen and air from mixing, the other side also had a plastic tube extending down to the same vent, for relief if too much electrolytic hydrogen was run into the cell. This tube was normally held shut, or rather flat, by outside pressure; but it was perfectly possible to push another tube in from outside, and run gas or liquid into the compartment. This the natives proceeded to do; Raeker was not sure of the nature of the tube, but there was nothing surprising in their being able to improvise one. There must have been a good deal of gas wasted in the transfer process, but this didn’t seem to bother anyone. There were, after all, plenty of floaters.

  “I see,” he said through the robot after a few minutes. “But I think I see a catch.”

  “What?” Easy snapped the question with a speed which suggested she had some doubts of her own.

  “That ship was computed around the lift of hydrogen. How do you know that stuff you’re using will lift you high enough for your boosters to work, even if an engineer gets aboard to—

  “What makes you think this gas isn’t hydrogen?”

  “What makes you think it is?”

  “What else is lighter than water, in the gas state, that’s likely to be found on this planet?”

  “Why, lots of things, I guess . . . I . . . I don’t know; I hadn’t thought of that.” Realization struck him. “You’ve been talking to the engineers!”

  “Of course. I don’t mean to be rude, but where else could I learn anything useful about this ship? I’ll admit you know the planet, but that wasn’t enough.”

  “I see,” said Raeker slowly. “I hadn’t thought as much as I should about the machine; but I did ask the engineers about its wiring—and say! won’t you need that anyway? What are you going to do when they get enough gas into your cells to lift the ship out of their reach, but not enough to get you any higher? Hadn’t you better have them tie the ship down, at least? You’d better wait until we—”

  He was interrupted by laughter. It didn’t come from Easy, who had looked impressed for a moment, but from the scientists in the observation chamber. Raeker realized that they were laughing at him, and for a moment was furious; then he realized he had asked for it. He put the best face he could on the matter while one of them carefully explained a little elementary physics.

  And that, really, was all. Nick put to use the knowledge he had picked up in balancing on the experimental float, and made sure there were always more forward cells full than after ones. When the ship lifted, it naturally rode the wind toward the volcano; and it rose so slowly at first that the children had a good look at the terrifying sight. They dipped frighteningly toward the glowing mountain as it entered warm-, er air, but recovered in ample time as the hydrogen in its cells also warmed up. Gradually the glow faded out below them, and Easy and her friend waited happily to meet the shuttle.

  EPILOGUE

  “I told you human beings were helpless and useless.” Happy as he was, Aminadabarlee gave up his ideas with difficulty. “You spend weeks trying to rig a rescue, and then are outsmarted by a savage with less education than either of these children. You spend a decade or two training agents of your own on the planet, and learn more useful facts in a week from natives you never bothered to contact directly.”

  “Natives who would have tried to eat the robot if any such attempt had been made,” Easy pointed out. “Remember, ’Mina and I know Swift. He respected the robot because it could talk and tell him things. He’d have ignored it or destroyed it otherwise.” Aminadabarlee’s eyes sought his son, who made a gesture of agreement.

  “Well, anyway, the natives with their own culture are a lot more use, and I’ll prove it soon enough.”

  “How?” asked Raeker.

  “I’ll have a Drommian project here in three months. We can talk to Swift as well as you, and we’ll see who learns more about geophysics in general and Tenebra in particular after that.”

  “Wouldn’t it be more profitable to run the projects jointly, and exchange information?”

  “You’d certainly have to say that,” sneered the nonhuman. “I’ve had enough of co-operating with human beings, and so has the rest of Dromm, if my opinion’s good for anything. You learned Swift’s language, didn’t you, Son?”

  “Yes, Dad, but—”

  “Never mind the but. I know you like Easy, and I suppose she’s a little less poisonous than most human beings after the time she spent with you, but I know what I’m talking about. Here—use the robot voice and call Swift over to it; you can say something to him for me.”

  “But I can’t, Dad.” Even the human beings could see that the youngster was uncomfortable.

  “Can’t? What do you mean? You just said you’d learned enough of their language—”

  “Oh, I understand it well enough. I just can’t speak it.”

  “You mean you just listened, and let that human girl do all the talking? I’m ashamed of you. You know perfectly well that no chance to learn the use of a new language should ever be missed.”

  “I didn’t miss it, Dad,” Aminadabarlee seemed to swell slightly.

  “Then in the name of both suns, tell me what you did do!” His voice came closer to a roar than anyone in the room had ever heard from him. Aminadorneldo looked a little helplessly at Easy.

  “All right, ’Mina,” the girl said. “We’ll show him.”

  The two took their places before the microphone, which Easy snapped on. Then, keeping their eyes fixed on each other, they began to speak in unison. The sounds they produced were weird; sometimes both were together, sometimes the Drommian carried a high note alone, sometimes Easy took the deeper registers. A similar sound, which Raeker recognized perfectly well and understood slightly, came from the speaker; Easy started an answer, using her hands to guide her “little” companion on what words were coming next. They had apparently worked out a fairly satisfactory deaf-mute code between them; and while they spoke much more slowly than Swift, they were obviously perfectly clear to the native.

  “He’s here, councilor,” Easy remarked after a moment. “What did you want to say to him? This particular translating team is ready to go to work. I do hope you’ll forgive ’Mina for co-operating with a human being. There really wasn’t any other way, you know.”

  Nobody laughed.

  1960

  THE LUNAR LICHEN

  If Ingersoll were telling the truth, he had indeed made a radical find, here on the moon. But Dr. Imbriano had doubts, and the destruction of the samples made him wonder even more if the geologist were tryi
ng to perpetrate a hoax. But . . . if so, what was Ingersoll’s motive? And what would his next move be?

  KINCHEN looked out and down from the observation port, watching the suited figure absorbed in its task about the trailer. He watched until the big number stencilled on the suit became visible, and he could be sure of the worker’s identity; then he turned abruptly to the men seated behind him. His eyes sought out one of these.

  “You admit they were—and are—alive.” It was more a statement than a question. Imbriano took it so.

  “They are.”

  “And you don’t recognize the species.”

  “I don’t—but that’s . . .” Kinchen raised a hand impatiently.

  “I understand that you don’t know by sight every fungus, lichen, or what have you that’s ever been described. You can, though, recognize classes. And you think you recognize this one as belonging to whateveryou-call-it . . .”

  “Hysteriales. And that’s not . . .”

  “Never mind. I didn’t mean to get technical about orders and phyla and whatever you call them. I’m no biologist. The point is or I think it is—that you used fairly gross characteristics for identification, and such characteristics might very well be duplicated by parallel evolution. Right?”

  “That’s true.”

  “Very well, then. Will you tell me why, except for a natural reluctance to believe there’s any life at all on the moon, you feel so strongly that Ingersoll is pulling a Piltdown on us? Don’t you like the fellow or what?”