Star Light m-2

by Hal Clement

  As usual in the conversations between the station and Dhrawn, Benj had plenty of time while waiting for the answer to think of other things he might have asked or said, and better ways in which he might have put the things he did say. Most of the adults knew from experience what was going on in his mind at this point; some were amused, all were to some degree sympathetic, several made bets with themselves that he would not be able to resist the temptation to send a reworded version of his message before the answer came back. When Dondragmer’s response came from the speaker with Benj still silent no one actually cheered, but those who knew Easy best could read and understand the satisfaction in her expression. She had not dared to bet, even with herself.

  “Hello, Benj. We’re doing all we can, both for the helmsmen and my first officer. I’m afraid there is no way to apply ship’s power to any of the tools. The converters produce electric current and also rotation torque fields to the truck motors, as I am sure you know, but none of our ordinary equipment can use this — just the helicopters, some of the research equipment in the laboratory, and the lights. Even if we could work out a way to apply the drive motors to digging, we can’t get at them; they’re all under the ice. You must remember, Benj, that we deliberately chose to remain as independent as possible of really complex equipment. Just about everything we have on the planet which we couldn’t make ourselves is directly concerned with your research project.” Ib Hoffman was not present to hear that sentence, which was unfortunate; later he spent a long time making sure of its exact wording from his son’s memory.

  “I know that, but—” Benj fell silent; none of the words he wanted to say seemed to have ideas under them. The lights, he knew, could not be used has heaters; they were solid state electroluminescent devices, not arcs or resistance bulbs. They had, after all, been designed not only to last indefinitely but to operate in Dhrawn’s atmosphere, with its free oxygen and enormous pressure range, without killing the Mesklinites. If Beetchermarlf had realized this he might have wasted less time, though he might not have accomplished more. “Can’t you… can’t you just run the current from a converter through some heavy wires, and melt the ice with the heat? Or even run it straight through the water? There must be plenty of ammonia still — it would surely conduct.”

  Again there was the pause, while Benj hunted for flaws in his own suggestions and the message flashed its way across emptiness.

  “I’m not sure I know enough about that sort of physics, though I suppose Borndender and his men would,” Dondragmer replied doubtfully. “more to the point, I don’t know what we’d use for wires, and I don’t know what current would flow. I know that when the power units are connected to regular equipment, like lights or motors, there is automatic safety control; but I have no idea of how that works, or whether it would work on a simple, direct series circuit. If you’ll find out from your engineers what sort of risk we’d be running, I’ll be glad of the information, but I still don’t know what we’d use to carry the current. There just isn’t much metal in the Kwembly. Most of our maintenance supplies are things like rope and fabric and lumber. Certainly there’s nothing that is meant to carry heavy electrical current.

  “You may be right about using the ice itself as a conductor, but do you think it would be a good idea with Beetchermarlf and Takoorch somewhere under it? I can see they wouldn’t be right in the circuit, but I’m still a little uncertain that they’d be safe. There, again, one of you people could probably help out. If you can — if we can get enough detailed information from you to plan something really promising — I’ll be glad to try it. Until that happens, I can only say we’re doing all we can. I’m as concerned about the Kwembly, and Kervenser, and Beetchermarlf, and Takoorch as you can possibly be.”

  The captain’s closing sentence was not entirely true, though the error was not intentional. He did not really grasp how a friendship could become at all close in a short time and without direct contact between the parties; his cultural background included neither an efficient mail service nor amateur radio. The concept of a pen pal, or microphone buddy, may not have been completely strange to him — he had, after all, been with Barlennan years before when Charles Lackland had accompanied the Bree by radio across thousands of miles of Mesklin’s oceans — but real friendship was, to him, in a different category. He had been only conventionally regretful at the news of Lackland’s death years later. Dondragmer knew that Benj and the younger helmsman had been talking to each other a great deal, but he had not overheard much of their conversation and would probably not have fully understood the feelings involved even if he had.

  Fortunately Benj did not realize this, so he had no reason to doubt the captain’s sincerity. However, he was not satisfied with either the answer or the situation. It seemed to him that far too little was being done specifically for Beetchermarlf; and he had only been told about this. He could not participate in it — he could not even see very much of it happening.

  His feelings showed clearly enough in his next words, as far as the human listeners were concerned, and Easy made a half-completed gesture of protest. Then she controlled herself; it was too late, and there was always the chance that the Mesklinite would not read as much into the words and tone as the speaker’s mother had.

  “But you can’t just sprawl there and do nothing!” Benj exclaimed. “Your men could be drowning this very second. Do you know how much air they had in their suits?”

  This time temptation won. Realization of what he had said caught up with him within seconds, and in less than half a minute he had what he hoped were better chosen words on their way to Dhrawn.

  “I know your doing your best, but I just don’t see how you can simply wait around for results. I’d have to go outside myself and chip ice, or something — and I can’t, up here.”

  “I have done all that can be done in the way of starting rescue action,” Dondragmer’s response to the first part of the message finally arrived. “There is no need to worry about the air for many hours yet — we don’t respond to its lack as I understand you humans do. Even if the hydrogen concentration goes too low for them to stay conscious, their body machinery will just slow down more and more for several eights of hours — no one knows just how long, and it probably isn’t the same for everyone. You needn’t worry about their — drowning I think was the word you used, If I have guessed its meaning correctly.

  “All tools we have are in use. There would be no way for me to help outside if I did go, and it would take me longer to get reports from Reffel through your people. Perhaps you can tell me how his search for Kervenser is coming on. I assume that nothing meaningful has turned up, since the light from his flier is still visible from here and his flight pattern has not changed, but perhaps there is description you could pass on to me — I’d like to know as much about this region as possible.”

  Easy once again stifled an exclamation before it could be noticed by Benj. As the boy shifted his attention to the screen carrying the helicopter’s signal, she wondered wheter Dondragmer was merely trying to keep the youngster out of his figurative hair, or perhaps had some real grasp of the boy’s need to be busy and feel useful. The latter seemed unlikely, but even Easy Hoffman, who probably knew Mesklinite nature better than any other human being alive, was not sure.

  Benj had not been watching the other screen at all, and had to ask whether anything had been happening. One of the observers replied briefly that all anyone had seen had been a surface of pea-to-house-sized cobbles, interrupted by frozen puddles similar to the one holding the Kwembly. There had been no sign of the other helicopter or its pilot. No one really expected any for some time; the search had to be slow to be complete, but if Kervenser had actually crashed this close to his starting point the accident would probably have been seen from the cruiser. The little fliers did carry lights, and Kervenser had certainly been using his.

  Benj relayed this information to Dhrawn, and threw in an obvious question of his own.

  “Why is Reff
el making such a slow and careful search so close to you? Wasn’t Kervenser at least watched out of sight?”

  “He was, Benj. It seemed more reasonable to make a complete coverage centering here and starting outward, and that would also have the advantage of providing more complete data for your scientists; but, if they can wait for the information, please order Reffel for me to fly straight west along the valley until he can just see my bridge light, and resume the search pattern at that point.”

  “Sure thing, Captain.” Benj was almost gay for the moment. The conversation had been in Stennish, so none of the watching scientists had understood it; and the boy did not bother to ask their approval before passing on the order in the same language. Reffel seemed to have no trouble understanding Benj’s accent, and in due course his little machine headed west.

  “And what’s happening to our map?” growled a topographer.

  “You heard the captain,” replied Benj.

  “I heard something. If I’d understood it, I’d have entered an objection, but I suppose it’s too late now. Do you suppose they’ll fill in the gap their leaving now, when they come back?”

  “I’ll ask Dondragmer,” the boy replied obligingly, but with an uneasy glance toward his mother. She had put on the unreadable expression which he could read all too well. Fortunately, the scientist was already leaving the communication room growling under his breath; and fortunately Benj turned his attention back to Reffel’s screen before Easy lot her gravity. Several other nearby adults who had gleaned the substance of the conversation with Dondragmer were also having trouble keeping their faces straight, but Benj failed to notice.

  Dondragmer’s assurance that lack of hydrogen would not be an immediate problem had helped some, but the idea of being frozen solidly into the ice was still bothersome. Even if this took longer to happen under the Kwembly’s hull, it would happen at last. It might even have happened already. It should be possible to do something.

  Heat melts ice. Heat is energy. The Kwembly carried enough energy to life her out of Dhrawn’s gravity well, though there was no way to apply it to that task. Didn’t the huge vehicle have any sort of heaters in its life-support equipment which could be disassembled and used outside?

  No. The Mesklinites were unlike ever to need heat on Dhrawn. Even the parts of the planet where internal heat seemed to be lacking were held up close to fifty degrees absolute by the sun; the regions they would have most to do with for many years yet, such as Low Alpha’s center, were too hot rather than too cold for them. The Kwembly did have refrigeration equipment powered from its fusion converters, but as far as Benj knew it had never been used since the original testing. It was expected to be necessary during the penetration of the central part of Low Alpha, not scheduled for at least an Earth year yet — and possibly even later; the fate of the Esket had made some of the original plans rather shaky.

  But a refrigerator is a heat pump. Even Benj knew that; and at least in theory, most pumps are reversible. This one must have, somewhere outside the cruiser’s hull, a high-temperature section for dumping heat. Where was it? Was it removable? At what temperature did it run? Dondragmer must know. But would he have thought of this already? Maybe not. He was far from stupid, but his background wasn’t human. What physics he knew had been picked up from non-Mesklinites long after he was adult. It would not — presumably — be part of the underlying stock of knowledge which most intelligent beings lump under the concept of “common sense.” The boy nodded at this thought, spent another second or two reminding himself that even if he made himself look silly this might be worth it, and reach for his microphone switch.

  This time there was no amusement among the surrounding adults as the message pulsed toward Dhrawn. None of those present knew enough of about the engineering details of the land-cruisers to answer the questions about the refrigerator heat-dump, but all knew enough physics to be annoyed with themselves for not having though of the question earlier.

  “The refrigerator is one of your solid-state electronic devices which I don’t pretend to understand in detail.” The captain’s words finally reached the station. He was still using his own language, to the annoyance of some of the listeners. “We haven’t had to use it since the acceptance tests; the weather here had sometimes been pretty warm, but not really unbearable. It’s a simple thing to describe; there are metal plates in all the rooms which get cold when we turn the power on in the system. There is a metal bar — a sort of loop — running along each side of the hull at start and finish — one of the few things that does. I assume that bar must be the heat radiator; I see, as you imply I should, that there must be such a part to the system and that it must be outside, and nothing else seems to qualify. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be much father from the ice, even if it runs hot enough to melt it — which I don’t know offhand. I realize that it could be made as hot as you please by running enough electricity through it, but I’m not sure I like the idea of trying to take it off the hull for such a purpose.”

  “I suppose it would wreck your refrigeration system — especially if you couldn’t get it back,” agreed Benj. “Still, maybe it’s not that bad. Let me find an engineer who really knows that system. I have an idea. I’ll call you back later.” The boy slid out of his seat without waiting for Dondragmer’s reply, and left the communication room on the run.

  The moment he was gone, the observers who had not understood the language asked Easy for a summary of the conversation, which she gladly supplied. It did not make anyone happier with himself to find that they could not guess what the youngster’s idea might be. When Benj returned with an engineer in tow, those in hearing frankly abandoned their jobs to listen. Several heartfelt prayers of thanksgiving must have ascended when it was noted that the newcomer was not a linguist, and the boy was interpreting for him. The two settled into seats before the screens, and Benj made sure he knew what to say before energizing his microphone.

  “I should tell the captain that most of the fastenings holding the radiator bar to the Kwembly’s skin are sort of nails; they only go a little way intro the skin and can be pried out without damaging the hull. It might be necessary to use cement to fasten them back in afterward, but they should have plenty of that. The connections at the rear will have to be cut, thought . The alloy isn’t very hard and their saws will be able to handle it. Once detached, the bar can be used as a resistance heater simply by pushing its ends into the D.C. holes in a power box. I can tell him that there is no danger from a short circuit, since the converters have internal safeties. I s that right, Mr. Katini?”

  “That’s it,” the small, grizzled engineer replied with a nod. He was one of those who had helped design and build the land-cruisers, and one of the very few human beings actually to spend much time at Mesklin’s three-gravity equator. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble making it clear to Dondragmer, even without translation; I’ll tell him directly if you wish. He and I always got along easily enough in my own language.”

  Benj nodded acknowledgement of this, but started speaking into his microphone in Stennish. Easy suspected that he was showing off, and hoped that it wouldn’t backfire on him too badly, but saw no real need to interfere. The boy was old enough to stand a little stewing in his own juice. She had to admit that he was doing a good job of translation; he must have picked up a great deal from his friend Beetchermarlf.

  When the captain’s answer came back it was in the human tongue. Dondragmer had seen the most probable reason why Benj, rather than the engineer who had provided the information, should be doing the talking. The boy looked a little startled and confirmed his mother’s suspicions by glancing quickly at her. She carefully kept her eyes on Dondragmer’s screen.

  “I have the picture,” the Mesklinite’s slightly accented voice came through — he what not always perfectly successful in confining his voice to the human audibility range. “We can detach the refrigerator bar use it, with a power box, as a heater to melt the ice around the ship. There will
be plenty of power in the converter, and no danger of blowing it up. Please clear me on two points however.

  “First, how can we be sure that we can reconnect the bar electrically afterward? I know enough to doubt that cement is the right method. I don’t want to lose the refrigerator system permanently, since Dhrawn is approaching its sun and the weather will have to be getting warmer.

  “Second, with the metal carrying a current touching the ice, or dipping into the melted water, will there be any danger to people on, or in, or under that water? Will the airsuits be protection enough? I suppose they must be pretty good electrical insulators, since they are transparent.”

  The engineer began to answer at once, leaving Benj to wonder what connection there might be between transparency and electrical conductivity — and how Dondragmer, with his background, happened to be acquainted with it.

  “You can make the connection easily enough. Simple have the metal ends pressed tightly together, and use the adhesive to fasten a wrapping of fabric around the joint. You’re right about the glue’s conductance; make sure it doesn’t get between the metal surfaces.

  “Also, you needn’t worry about electrocuting anyone in an airsuit. There’ll be plenty of protection. I rather suspect that it would take a lot of voltage to hurt you people anyway, since your body fluids are nonpolar, but I have no experimental proof and I don’t suppose you want any. It occurred to me that you might do better by striking an arc at the surface of the ice, which should have enough ammonia to be a fair conductor. If it works sat all, it should work very well — only it may be too hot for any of your men to stay in the neighborhood, and it would have to be controlled carefully. Come to think of it, it would no doubt destroy too much of the bar to let you get the system together again afterward. We’d better stick to simple resistance heating, and be satisfied with melting the ice instead of boiling it.”