by Hal Clement
“Not knowing their physical and mental capabilities, quite aside from their cultural level, I couldn’t even guess,” replied Hoffman. “Didn’t some of the first Indians Columbus met wind up in Spain?”
“I think you’re stretching resemblances, to put it mildly. There’s a practical infinity of things which could have happened to the Esket without her running into intelligent opposition. You know that as well as I do; you helped make up some of the lists, until you decided it was pointless speculation. I grant that Barlennan’s theory is a little bit more believable than it was, but only a very little.”
“You still think I was wrong in my identification of Kabremm, don’t you?” said Easy. “Yes, I’m afraid I do. Furthermore, I just don’t believe that we’ve run into another intelligent species. Don’t compare me with the people who refused to believe that dePerthe’s rocks were man-made tools. Some things are just intrinsically improbable.” Hoffman chuckled. “Human ability to judge likelihood, you might call it statistical insight, has always been pretty shaky,” he pointed out, “even if you skip purely classical examples like Lois Lane. Actually, the chances don’t seem to be that low. You know as well as I do that in the very small volume of space within five parsecs of Sol, with only seventy-four known stars and about two hundred sunless planets, what we have found in the way of intelligence: twenty races at about our own stage of development, safely past their Energy Crisis; eight, including Tenebra and Mesklin, which haven’t met it yet; eight which failed to pass it and are extinct; three which failed but have some hope of recovery; every one of them, remember, within a hundred thousand years of that key point in their history, one way or the other! That’s in spite of the fact that the planets range in age from Panesh’s nine billion years or so to Tenebra’s maybe a tenth of that. There’s more than coincidence there, Alan.”
“Maybe Panesh and Earth and the older planets have had other cultures in the past; maybe it happens to any world every few tens of millions of years.”
“It hasn’t happened before unless the earlier intelligent races were so intelligent from the beginning that they never tapped their planet’s fossil fuels. Do you think man’s presence on Earth won’t be geologically obvious a billion years from now, with looted coal seams and the beer bottle as an index fossil? I can?t buy that one, Alan.? “Maybe not, but I’m not mystical enough to believe that some super-species is herding the races of this part of space toward one big climax.”
“Whether you like that Demon Hypothesis or prefer the ESFA Theory doesn’t matter. There’s certainly more than chance involved, and therefore you can’t use the laws of chance alone to criticize what Barlennan has suggested. You don’t have to assume he’s right, but I strongly urge you to take him seriously. I do.” Dondragmer would have been interested in hearing this discussion, just as he would have appreciated attending the staff meeting of some hours before. However, he would have been too busy for either, even if attendance had been physically possible. With the return of most of his crew (some, of course, had stayed behind to continue setting up the life-support equipment) there was much to oversee and quite a lot to do himself. Twenty of his men were set to helping the trio already chipping ice from the main lock. As many more went under the hull with lights and tools to find and secure any power units not too solidly frozen in. The captain kept his promise to Benj, ordering this group to check most carefully for signs of Beetchermarlf and Takoorch. However, he emphasized the importance of examining the ice walls closely, and as a result the group found nothing. Its members emerged in a few minutes with the two power boxes from the trucks which the helmsmen had used, and two more which had been freed by the action of the heat. The rest, which according to Dondragmer’s recollection and the laws of arithmetic must number six, were unapproachable, even though the sailors could make a reasonably well-founded guess as to which trucks they were on. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew had been entering the cruiser by the available locks: the small one at the bridge, the larger ones through which the fliers were launched and the pairs of one-man-at-a-time emergency traps at the sides near bow and stern. Once inside, each crewman set about an assigned job. Dondragmer had been thinking as well as talking to human beings during their absence. Some packed food to last until the life-support equipment resumed cycling normally; others readied coils of rope, lights, power units, and other equipment for transportation. Many were at work improvising carrying devices; one awkward result of the Kwembly’s being fusion-powered was a great shortage of wheels aboard. There were tiny pulleys carrying the control cables around corners. These were too small for wheelbarrows or similar devices and Dondragmer had firmly forbidden any dismantling of the vehicle. There was nothing like a fork-lift or even a dolly aboard. Such devices, the former muscle-powered, of course, were known and used on Mesklin for medium-to-long-distance carrying; but there was nothing on the Kwembly which could be moved at all which a Mesklinite could not easily carry to any part of the vehicle without mechanical assistance. Now, with miles to go and the necessity of moving many items complete rather than in pieces, improvisation was in order. Litters and travois were making their appearance. The corridors leading to the main lock were rapidly being stacked with supplies and equipment awaiting the freeing of the exit. None of the bustle and thumping, however, penetrated the mattress where Beetchermarlf and Takoorch still lay concealed. As nearly as could be judged later, they must have sought this shelter within a very few minutes of the time the resistance heater went into action. The thick, rubbery material of the mattress itself, which had been so difficult for even a Mesklinite-wielded knife to penetrate, blocked the sounds made by the crackling steam-bubbles around the hot metal and the calls of the workers who entered later. Had these last been forced to communicate with anyone at a distance, their resonant hooting might well have made its way even through that tough material; but there was little for them to say even to each other; they all knew their jobs perfectly well. The slit through which the helmsmen had found their entrance was held tightly enough closed by the elasticity of the fabric so that no light reached them. Finally, the Mesklinite personality trait most nearly described as a combination of patience and fatalism assured that neither Beetchermarlf nor his companion was likely to check outside their refuge until the breathing hydrogen in their suits became a serious problem. As a result, even if Dondragmer had heard Benj’s appeal, there would have been nothing for him to signal. The helmsmen, some three feet above some of their companions and a like distance below many others, were not found. Not quite all the Kwembly’s crew were engaged in preparation for the move. When the most necessary aspects of that operation had been arranged, Dondragmer called two of his sailors for a special detail. “Go to the stream, head northwest and you can’t miss it, and go upstream until you find Kabremm and the Gwelf,” he ordered. “Tell him what we are doing. We will set up a livable site as quickly as we can, you tell him where; you’ve been there and I haven’t. We will set up the human machines so they are looking into the lighted, active portion of that area. That will make it safe for him to bring the Gwelf down and land her anywhere outside that area, with no risk of being seen by the human beings. Tell him that the commander seems to be starting the native-life part of the play early, apparently to account for Kabremm’s being seen in this neighborhood. He’s suggested no details, and will probably stick to the original idea of letting the human beings invent their own. “When you have seen Kabremm, go on upstream until you find Stakendee, and give him the same information. Be careful about getting into the view field of his communicator; when you think you may be getting near him, shut off your lights every little while and look for his. I’ll be in touch with him through the human beings, of course, but not with that message. You understand.”
“Yes, sir,” the two replied in unison, and were gone. The hours passed. The main lock was freed and opened, and nearly all the material to be taken was outside when a call came from above. The communicator which had been in the laboratory was now ou
tside, so Dondragmer could be reached directly. Benj was still the speaker. “Captain, Stakendee reports that the stream he is following is getting noticeably broader and swifter, and that the clouds are becoming rain. I’ve told him to start back, on my own responsibility.” The captain looked up at the still cloudless sky, then westward toward the place where Stakendee’s fog might have shown if it had been daylight. “Thanks, Benj. That’s what I would have ordered. We’re leaving the Kwembly right now before the stream gets too big to cross with the equipment. I have lashed the communicator down to the bridge and will leave the lights on as Mr. McDevitt requested. We’ll hope you can tell us that it’s safe to come back, before too long. Please report this to Barlennan, and tell him that we will watch as carefully as possible for the natives; if, as he seems to be suggesting, they are using Kabremm as a means of getting in touch with us, I will do my best to set up cooperative relations with them. Remember, I haven’t seen Kabremm myself yet, and you haven’t mentioned him since the first time, so I’m entirely in the dark about his status so far. “Be sure to keep me informed of Barlennan’s thoughts and plans, as far as you can; I’ll do the same from here, but things may happen too quickly for any possible advance warning. Watch your screens. That’s all for now; we’re starting.” The captain uttered a resonant hoot which, fortunately for human ears, was not faithfully amplified by the set. The Mesklinites fell into rough line, and within two minutes were gone from the field of view of the bridge communicator. The other set was being borne near the tail of the line, so the screen far above showed the string of lights bobbing in front of it. Little else could be seen. The nearest sailors, those within two or three yards of the lens, could be made out in reasonable detail as they wound among the boulders with their burdens, but that was all. The line could have been flanked on both sides twenty feet away by a legion of natives, without any human being the wiser. Aucoin was neither the first nor the last to curse Dhrawn’s 1500-hour rotation period; there were still over six hundred hours to go before the feeble daylight from Lalande 21185 would return. The stream was still small when the group splashed through it, though Stakendee’s set a few miles west had confirmed the report that it was growing. Benj, noticing this, suggested that the small party also cross so that its members could meet the main body on the other side of the valley. Fortunately he made this suggestion to Dondragmer before acting on his own; the captain, remembering the two messengers he had sent upstream, hastily advised that the crossing be postponed as long as possible so that Stakendee and his men could compare more accurately the size of the stream with what it had been when they had passed the same area earlier. Benj and Easy accepted this excuse. Ib Hoffman, quite aware that the foot party was carrying no time measuring devices and could give no meaningful report on the rate of change, was startled for a few seconds. Then he smiled, privately. For minutes, which stretched into one hour and then another, there was little to watch. The crew reached and climbed the bare rock sides of the valley at the spot where the first load of equipment had been left, and set about constructing something which might have been called either a camp or a town. Life-support equipment had first priority, of course. It would be many hours yet before any air-suits would need recharging, but the time would come. For organisms as profligate of energy as the Mesklinites, food was also a matter of immediate concern. They set about it quickly and efficiently; Dondragmer, like the rest of the cruiser captains, had given plenty of advance thought to the problem of abandoning ship. Stakendee’s group finally crossed the river and, somewhat later, reached the encampment. The crossing had been approved by Dondragmer after he had received through Benj a message which contained, quite incidentally, the name of one of the messengers the captain had sent from the Kwembly. Consequently no one, either member of the Kwembly crew or human being, was able to watch the growth of the ammonia-water stream. It would have been an interesting sight. At first, as the witnesses had reported, it was little more than a trickle running from hollow to hollow on the bare rock in the higher reaches of the river bed, men winding among the boulders lower down. As the drops of liquid in the fog coalesced and settled out more rapidly, tiny new tributaries began to feed into the main stream from the sides, and the stream itself grew deeper and faster. On the bare rock it meandered more violently, overflowing the basins which had originally contained it. Here and there it froze temporarily, as water, supplied by the frozen puddles upstream, and ammonia from the fog, shifted about the eutectic, which was liquid at the local temperature: about 174 degrees on the human Kelvin scale, roughly 71 on that used by the Mesklinite scientists. Among the boulders, as it neared the Kwembly, it accumulated more and more water ice, and the progress grew more complicated. The ammonia dissolved water for a time, the mixture flowing away as the composition entered the liquid range. Then the stream would stop and build up, as Benj had pictured it, like hot wax on a candle, solidifying temporarily from addition of ammonia. Then it would slump away again as underlying ice reacted with the mixture. It finally reached the hole which had been melted along the Kwembly’s starboard side, where the human beings could watch once more. By this time the “stream” was a complex network of alternate liquid, solid, and slush perhaps two miles across. The solid, however, was losing out. While there were still no clouds this far downstream, the air was nearly saturated with ammonia: saturated, that is, with respect to a pure liquid-ammonia surface. The ammonia vapor pressure needed for equilibrium over an ammonia-water mixture is lower; so condensation was taking place on the mostly water and low-ammonia ice. As it reached the appropriate composition for liquefaction its surface flowed away and exposed more solid to the vapor. The liquid tended to solidify again as it absorbed still more ammonia vapor, but its motion also gave it access to more water ice. The situation was a little different in the space under the Kwembly’s hull, but not greatly so. Where liquid touched ice the latter dissolved and slush appeared; but more ammonia diffusing from the free surface at the side melted it again. Slowly, slowly, minute after minute, the grip of the ice on the huge vehicle relaxed so gently that neither the human beings watching with fascination from above nor the two Mesklinites waiting in their dark refuge could detect the change, and the hull floated free. By now the entire river bed was liquid, with a few surviving patches of slush. Gently, very unlike the flood of a hundred hours or so before when three million square miles of water-snow had been touched by the first ammonia fog of the advancing season, a current began to develop. Imperceptibly to all concerned, the Kwembly moved with that current: imperceptibly because there was no relative motion to catch the eyes of the human beings, and no rocking or pitching to be felt by the hidden Mesklinites. The seasonal river, which drains the great plateau where the Kwembly had been caught, slices through a range of hills, for Dhrawn respectable mountains; the range extends some four thousand miles northwest-southeast. The Kwembly had gone parallel to this range for most of its length before the flood. Dondragmer, his helmsmen, his air scouts, and indeed most of the crew had been quite aware of the gentle elevation to their left, sometimes near enough to be seen from the bridge and sometimes only a pilot’s report. The flood had carried the cruiser through a pass near the southeastern end of this range to the somewhat lower and rougher regions close to the edge of Low Alpha before she had grounded. This first flood was a rough, rather hesitant beginning of the new season as Dhrawn approached its feeble sun and the latitude of the sub-stellar belt shifted. The second was the real thing, which would only end when the whole snow plain was drained, more than an Earth year later. The Kwembly’s first motions were smooth and gentle because she was melted free so slowly; then they were smooth and gentle because the liquid supporting her was syrupy with suspended crystals; finally, with the stream fully liquid and up to speed, it was smooth because it was broad and deep. Beetchermarlf and Takoorch may have been slightly dazed by decreasing hydrogen pressure, but even if they had been fully alert the slight motions of the Kwembly’s hull would have been masked by their own shift
ing on the flexible surface that supported them. Low Alpha is not the hottest region on Dhrawn, but the zone-melting effects which tend to concentrate any planet?s radioactive elements have warmed it to around the melting point of water ice in many spots, over two hundred Kelvin degrees hotter than Lalande 21185 could manage unassisted. A human being could live with only modest artificial protection in the area, if it were not for the gravity and pressure. The really hot area, Low Beta, is forty thousand miles to the north; it is Dhrawn?s major climate-control feature. The Kwemhly’s drift was carrying it into regions of rising temperature, which kept the river fluid even though it was now losing ammonia to the air. The course of the stream was almost entirely controlled by the topography, rather than the other way around; the river was geologically too young to have altered the landscape greatly by its own action. Also, much of the exposed surface of the planet in this area was bed rock, igneous and hard, rather than a covering of loose sediment in which a stream could have its own way. About three hundred miles from the point at which she had been abandoned, the Kwembly was borne into a broad, shallow lake. She promptly but gently ran aground on the soft mud delta where the river fed into it. The great hull naturally deflected the currents around it, and set them to digging a new channel alongside. After about half an hour she tilted sideways and slid off into the new channel, righting herself as she floated free. It was the rocking associated with this last liberation which caught the attention of the helmsmen and induced them to come out for a look around.
