Noise

by Hal Clement

  Joanie. Maui.

  He didn’t really notice what he was eating. He was thinking too hard. Quite suddenly, and for many reasons, he now cared when he could leave Kainui. The sooner the better, language project done or not. He couldn’t leave from this city; Muamoku was the only settlement on Kainui with homing lights bright enough to guide a ship coming in from space. No other was willing to commit the energy needed. Mike suspected that Muamoku was quite content to keep it that way, though probably not to the extent of actively interfering with the policies of other floating cities.

  So getting back to his hosts’ home port was the central problem. He’d have to learn Wanaka’s current feelings; it was possible that she was willing to stay here long enough to consummate the deal Hinemoa had outlined. The captain’s apparent approval might or might not have been sincere. If it were, he would have to think out some more tempting long-term profits to change her mind. It seemed unlikely that anything else would.

  He’d better start thinking right now, before seeking Wanaka and Keo.

  His third or fourth thought suggested that something else be done first. He didn’t exactly jump at it, but after some minutes of brooding decided to give it a try.

  The room had a communicator for calling the office that had furnished his earlier guides. He was pretty sure he could find his way to the entrance they had used before, but didn’t want anyone to think he was being secretive; he wasn’t at all sure how far his hosts were prepared to go to keep Mata and her crew on hand. It was obvious, of course, that he couldn’t make off unaided with the ship, but the locals might be suspicious on general principles. At least, the ones involved in commerce probably would.

  Two guides, not the same as had accompanied him before, showed up in about a quarter of an hour, in sound armor as he had requested. Mike had already donned his own, and during the walk to the air lock rechecked the route very carefully. Once outside, he would have been perfectly happy to finish the trip on his own, but neither he nor his companions made the suggestion. His own motive was of course to avert suspicion; he wished he knew what that of the guides might be. Few words were spoken during the hike to where the ships lay, and none of those was really helpful. Mostly they had to do with the poor traction of Mike’s armor shoes.

  There had been at least one storm since Wanaka’s crew had come inside; Mata’italiga’s deck and cabin roof were crusted with hailstones. Mike had given an explanation of why he had wanted to visit the craft, but this would have been a better one. He broke out ’Ao’s shovel, slid the cover from the drinking breakers, and went to work. One of his guides offered to help with a shovel from a nearby ship, but Mike declined politely if absentmindedly. He had found more food for thought.

  The breakers were almost empty.

  XI

  Overtones

  This had not been the case when they had gone ashore. He filled them without comment, scraped the surplus hailstones overboard, stowed the shovel, and went to the air lock. The excuse he had given for the trip had been to get some of his own working materials. An unstated one was to check the reactions of his guides when he tried to enter the cabin alone. It was perfectly obvious that no adult could use the lock with him; but would they let him go in first? Or follow at once, before he could do anything? Could they feel sure there was nothing he might do to which their officials might object? Were they simply and generally suspicious of him, and presumably also of his crewmates? Or completely indifferent to anything they might do?

  It was pretty obvious by now—at least to Wanaka, whose opinion tended to be contagious—that Hinemoa was a trader, whatever she might have claimed. Mike had already gathered that traders were the principal diplomats in most Kainuian cities. It had been clear almost from the beginning that she was also of high rank in whatever sort of government Aorangi had. This did not, however, have to mean that the entire population of the place either knew of or fully agreed with whatever policy she and her fellow officials might have adopted. Telephones were common enough in the city, but Mike had not yet seen anything corresponding to a newspaper or vision broadcast in the place. Technologial development here, as elsewhere on the planet, had presumably been guided by what each original colony ship had had on board and what actions had been forced on their crews by circumstances at the time of arrival.

  Maybe he could fit more of this into his thesis after all.

  The state of the drinking breakers had increased his own Wanaka-type suspicions; what about his present guides? Should he have admitted noticing the diminished water store? Would his failure to comment cause them to wonder? Or would they put it down to his presumed lack of seamanship? He had made no secret of this when describing his Earthly upbringing to the assembled teachers. Or were they completely ignorant of the whole breaker business, even that the tanks had been full when the crew had left the ship?

  The guides glanced at each other as he opened the lock, but said nothing and made no effort to hold him back. That didn’t necessarily mean much. It was not their ship, there were always the rules of courtesy—Mike suddenly realized that he had been remiss in failing to invite them inside; might not that make them suspicious?—and it was hard in any case to see what mischief he could possibly do.

  He was back on deck with one of his record cases in a few moments, hoping that the brevity of the errand would excuse his discourtesy. Mike couldn’t decide whether the guides were relieved or not. He waded ashore—he had flipped back his helmet when picking up the shovel, and now closed it again in proper routine—and started back toward the city entrance. The others followed.

  He deliberately missed a turning on the way back, and was promptly corrected, but had no way of guessing whether the apparent slip relieved his guides or not. It might or might not have the effect of easing the obvious local policy of having him accompanied on all occasions, or of reinforcing it; either way he was no worse off. Once again he realized that he was picking up some of the mercantile paranoia of the captain. He didn’t really like this, but just now it might be useful.

  He accepted guidance back to his room, thanked his escorts, and asked when the school would need him again. They didn’t know, but said he would be called in plenty of time. He nodded, remarked that he might be in the captain’s and mate’s nearby quarters rather than his own, waved a dismissal, and thankfully went inside to doff his armor. He had become used to wearing it for over a day at a time during the large fraction of a local year since they had left Muamoku, but it was never really comfortable. People generally accepted that no really efficient recycling wear could be, but complaining was of course discourteous and likely to be answered with a shrug and the remark “Grow your own, then.”

  Waiting until his escort should be well out of sight, Hoani left his room again and went to the adjoining but unconnected apartment shared by captain and mate. Keo answered his knock at once, and gestured him to enter. Wanaka, seated at a worktable with charts—columns of numbers rather than maps in the Earthly sense—in front of her, looked up. Neither seemed surprised to see him, but his report of the drained water breakers caused them to look sharply at each other for a moment, then nod slowly.

  “I wondered how they’d do it,” the mate remarked. “What d’you suppose they’ll use for an excuse if we say anything?”

  “Doesn’t matter. They’ll either have one, which will leave us free for a while longer, or they won’t. In that case they’ll either take our armor or simply lock us up.”

  Evidently, Hoani decided, Wanaka had not been sincere in accepting Hinemoa’s trade proposal. She was intending to leave after all.

  “Why should they bother with that, if they’ve taken our water?” he asked, and promptly wished he hadn’t.

  “You’ve refilled the breakers already. If they drain them again, we can refill them at sea easily enough. There aren’t quite as many storms here in the high latitudes, but there are enough.”

  “Then why did they take the water at all?”

  The captain s
miled in a way Mike had not seen before.

  “I am guessing. I’d like to make sure I’m right before we risk leaving, but don’t see how I can. Have you seen ’Ao since we arrived?”

  Mike reported in some detail his encounter with the children. The captain showed little interest in the city model or power information, though it became evident later that she had listened carefully. She had a higher priority.

  “Did ’Ao have ’Oloa with her? I know she brought it into the city.”

  Mike thought a moment. “No. She must have left it at Eru’s home. All her talk was with Eru and me, except for courtesy to my guides. I’d guess she didn’t want to forget and talk to it.”

  Keo spoke up. “She wanted me to take it, earlier. I got the impression she’d been embarrassed by something Eru said about it. Maybe I wasn’t as sympathetic as I should have been.”

  For the second time since Mike had known her, Wanaka used language that was plainly rude; this time he couldn’t decipher it at all, but even her husband raised his eyebrows.

  “Keo, get down to Eru’s home and—can you find it?”

  “Not without help.”

  “Then get help. Wanting to talk to her won’t be suspicious. If no one answers when you get there you won’t be able to go in, of course, but wait as long as necessary. If she’s there alone, or comes back alone while you’re waiting, make sure about the doll. If Eru or any of his family is there with her, tell her I need to see her, and while you’re talking look around to see if the doll’s in sight. Don’t let Eru or—”

  “Of course.” Keokolo disappeared.

  “We’re leaving?” Mike’s words weren’t entirely a question.

  “If we can. It depends on two things I don’t know yet: just how the breakers were emptied, and whether we still have the doll. We could do without it—maybe—but I’d rather not. If the breakers were emptied through the regular drains, then these folks will probably take our armor or restrain us by force if they catch us trying to leave. If, as I’m hoping, they punched holes, we may have a better chance.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow himself, but didn’t ask for more details. He was startled when the captain supplied them.

  “I hope they just punched holes in the breakers. It would mean they didn’t expect them to heal. Did you know those seven ships we’ve seen are all the city has?”

  “Do you know that, or did they tell you?”

  The captain gave him an approving glance, which rather worried Mike. If he were getting cynical enough to please Wanaka, maybe he was in trouble. He shouldn’t be taking for granted that anything he was told was probably a lie. These traders…

  “There are no others around the city; the place they are lying seems to be the only port. The city is moving. How could the others, if there are any, find it?”

  “We asked about that before.”

  “And got an answer. Did you believe it?”

  “It seemed plausible to me,” Mike evaded.

  Wanaka merely looked at him. He changed the subject.

  “How do you expect to find Muamoku?”

  “Circle the world westward at its latitude, of course.”

  “And why couldn’t these folks do just the same thing?”

  “You didn’t notice, either?” The captain looked rather smug. “This city doesn’t try to maintain latitude! They’re quite casual about north and south drift. They worry about melting if they get much too far north, of course, since the town is made mostly of ice, but they certainly don’t care about keeping their latitude range narrow enough to be useful for searching ships; remember the mists at this far south are even heavier than closer to the equator.

  “Besides, they’ve been too far north too recently; they’ve lost a lot of city to melting—”

  “You’ve seen this, or just been told?”

  “We’ve seen it! We’ve seen the change in water line.”

  “All right, they have only a few ships. How does that connect with empty drinking breakers?”

  But Wanaka simply smiled again. It seemed that Mike was not yet on full crew status.

  Keokolo was more than an hour returning from his errand, and Wanaka seemed to be worrying slightly about how close they were to sunset. When he returned, ’Ao was with him, but the doll was not.

  When the captain, clearly restraining her temper with an effort, asked where it was, the child replied that she didn’t think she’d need it on watch and had not wanted to bring it for fear of rousing suspicion, and she didn’t want to carry it on the tour of the city because someone might wonder why anyone as old as she was would be carrying a doll around. Wanaka cooled down at once. Mike could guess the captain’s thoughts; the child was using her head. He wondered in passing whether games theory was a formal science on Kainui. With trading a major industry…

  “All right. Very good, in fact. Can you get back to Eru’s by yourself?”

  “Mau.”

  “Do it. Get ’Oloa and your armor, and tell them you’re on watch tonight if you haven’t already. Can you get back to the ship on your own, too?” ’Ao merely nodded this time.

  “It doesn’t look as though anyone gets stopped at the air lock, but if they worry about someone your age going out alone this close to sunset tell them you’re on watch, and if they’re still bothered ask for someone to guide you so you can obey orders. You don’t like admitting that you’re too young to do without a guide, of course. Be insulted if you like, but not so much they bring you back here instead of to the ships.”

  “’Ioe.” ’Ao looked appropriately indignant.

  “We’ll be with you somewhere around sunset, no later if we can help it. I wish I knew when that was; we’re farther south than I’ve ever been, the tables don’t give sunrise and sunset for latitudes greater either way than fifty. At least we’re close to the solstice, though.

  “Check the water supply when you get there. If it’s down—Mike refilled it a little while ago—don’t worry and don’t try to refill it unless there’s actually a storm going on.”

  The girl looked indignant once more, but the remark about obeying orders had sunk in and she only nodded. Wanaka decided against having her repeat her commands and gestured toward the door. ’Ao disappeared.

  “Now, Mike. Can you find the air lock and the ship by yourself?”

  “Yes, Captain. No trouble.”

  “Good, because I think you’ll have to go last. Keo and I probably won’t be noticed in armor, especially if we don’t go together, but people will see and remember you. You have one of your note cases ashore? Good. Keo will go first, I’ll follow in about ten minutes, you wait at least twenty more, then head back to the ship with your case—I hope there’s just one? Or at least not more than you can carry? Good. We’ll hope no one wonders; maybe the fact that you took cases with you on other trips will keep them from wondering—”

  “They’re not all traders, I noticed,” Hoani couldn’t help remarking. “I get the impression that most of them wouldn’t know what I was doing. They just wouldn’t care, except for congenital loafers, and there don’t seem to be many of those on this world.” Wanaka may not have interpreted the remark as a slur; at least, she let it pass. She put just one more question set.

  “Did you notice whether the watch on the other ships were clearing hail while you were?”

  “They weren’t.”

  “Had they done it before you came? Were their decks clear?”

  Mike strained his memory. “Yes. They were. Maybe that’s why the watch was there this time.”

  “And why not before? What’s changed since then?”

  “We’re farther south. I don’t know what else.”

  “There are fewer storms farther south, and a bigger change in buoyancy after a storm, because the basic surface salinity is greater the farther one gets from the tropical rain belt. It increases away from the equator, at least until we get to the neighborhood of the ice cap, where I suppose melting dilutes it again.” She paused, eyed the
man thoughtfully, then seemed to make a decision.

  “Mike, you didn’t think these folks were making a wave come in at just the right time, did you?”

  “I—oh. Of course. No. They must change the city’s buoyancy. They can raise and lower it. Not very far either way, I’d guess, but two or three meters anyway. I must be twins; I couldn’t be that stupid all by myself. You know, whoever is handling the buoyancy tanks right now must be very, very uptight.”

  To Mike’s relief, he had gotten slightly ahead of Wanaka.

  “Why?”

  “Because the tanks must be big enough to lower or raise the city far enough to be useful even when all its normal floating ice is present. Right now, letting them fill too full could submerge everything—and if the sea gets to the air lock there’ll be more than buoyancy tanks getting filled. I’m sure they must have some emergency way to forestall that, but they won’t like to use it, any more than you’d like to see all of Muamoku’s floats submerged.”

  Wanaka nodded slowly. Mike had an alarming thought.

  “Captain, you wouldn’t try to—”

  “Of course I wouldn’t. In the first place, I wouldn’t kill anyone, let alone a whole city. In the second, whatever happens to get Mata back to sea will have to happen with all four of us aboard. I’m simply assuming that Hinemoa won’t let us go, which is pretty obvious, you must admit.”

  Mike was somewhat relieved that she had put the first and second items in that order, but said nothing. He had little chance, actually; there was a knock at the coral door. Mike was closest to it, and opened it at Wanaka’s nod. As they had expected, it was ’Ao. As they had not, it was also Hinemoa and Eru.

  Wanaka as usual controlled her expression perfectly. Mike hoped that his own was less readable to the native. The latter spoke at once.

  “Captain, how many children can you carry?”