In answer, Silver-Rim reached for a very small harp, like the others, gleaming and unique. The tentacles stroked it lightly, and tones of about the middle range jangled pleasantly.
“We can make notes higher in pitch than these, although some of those listening to the music are unable to sense them. The smaller of the ice-tube chimes contribute a good high note, when it is wanted.” The alien tapped on the shortest one of a circle of long tubes of ice hanging at regularly spaced intervals around a central pedestal. The tubular bell gave off a ringing note.
“It provides an accent to our singing, but of course our own voices are mostly in the range below…” There was a pause as Josephine converted the response into human units. “…two hundred fifty cycles per second.”
“And middle C is 262 cycles,” mused David. He turned to look at Deirdre. “You should sing for them, Deirdre! Let them hear some of your soprano trills,” he said without thinking. A green glare shot through the opposite helmet.
“No, I should not,” she said flatly.
Hastily, David turned to the two aliens.
“I understand that you do not use wind to make music of any sort. Because we can produce winds with our mouths, we have long been turning breath into varying notes, using our voices, or mechanical devices such as whistles and pipes and…”
Deirdre interrupted, “Those words are not going to translate, David, what are you thinking of?”
David began to remove from his chestpack the odd assortment of objects he had brought along, and laid them out upon a nearby work surface. He walked over to the “useful junk” area.
“May I use some of these materials?” he asked before touching them.
“Certainly,” replied Clear-Eye. “They are not materials that we would use to construct concert instruments, but they are useful for repair.”
David picked up three of the chipped hollow ice cylinders that had once been tubular bells. He gave a soft whistle of relief when the outer diameter of one of the chipped cylinders just fit into the larger end of the conical device which he had brought along. His measurement of the video images of the chime cylinders had been correct.
“Is it a new technology you are introducing?” asked Deirdre sternly.
“Just a whistle,” replied David. “If my head wasn’t inside a helmet, I would blow into it and show you. See, here at the narrow end is where I would blow, and here on the side is the notch that causes the interruption of airflow which makes the vibration, and this is where the sound comes out. Certainly a whistle is not high technology. The only difference between this and a regular whistle is its size and this sliding valve for cutting off the air.”
“If you can’t blow it, and the icerugs can’t blow it, then why are you showing it to them?” asked Deirdre suspiciously.
“There’s more than one way to blow a whistle,” replied David. “And besides, it’s not going to be a whistle.” Ignoring Deirdre, he picked up the saw he had brought along and cut the chipped ends off the hollow ice cylinders, using a tape measure to make their lengths exactly correct, while differing in length. He used the tiny lasers in his suit imp to fuse the ice cylinders into the larger end of the three whistle-like devices the Christmas Bush back on Victoria had constructed for him.
Then, he picked up some dried seaweed “plywood” boards, sawed them into shape, and assembled them into a box. Using the hand-awl and circular file tools on his Swiss Army Mech-All, he cut three holes into the top, into which the smaller end of the conical whistles fit tightly. The three tubes now stood upright out of the box, one short, one medium and one tall.
“It’s an organ!” said Deirdre, fascinated.
“Not yet,” replied David. “It needs a source of wind for the wind chest, and they don’t have electrically powered rotary blowers here on Zulu, so we’ll improvise a bellows instead.” He reached back into his chestpack and pulled out a sheet of all-purpose tough plastic. “This stuff is flexible and impervious to air. I imagine coelashark skin would work even better.”
Deirdre watched, as curious as the aliens, as David skillfully cut, shaped, and folded the pieces of plastic and glued them between two triangular pieces of seaweed board, one with a hole in it. He closed the hole in the top board with an intake valve flap made of thicker plastic, and fit the exit nozzle of the bellows tightly into a hole in the side of the wind chest below the three pipes.
First making sure the sliding valves under the three pipes were closed, he separated the two boards of the bellows on their hinge. The air rushed in through the large intake hole and the flap valve closed to his satisfaction. He pressed gently on the handles and was relieved when he felt back pressure, indicating that the bellows, wind chest, and valves were all air tight.
Mentally crossing his fingers, he opened all three sliding valves under the pipes, and pressed down hard on the bellows. Deirdre winced at the discord that sounded from the three pipes, while the two aliens moved back sharply on their carpets.
“Close, but so wrong! I was trying for a C major chord. I should have done them one at a time!”
Although the aliens had been surprised, they immediately returned, bending over the ugly contrivance. Silver-Rim’s tentacles reached out, then stopped.
“You may touch it,” said David generously. The humans watched in silence, as the alien tentacles prodded the flexible plastic on the bellows, felt delicately within the valves, and then closed the valves on two of the pipes and pushed firmly on the bellows. The sound which emerged was not pretty, but was at least a single, more or less coherent tone. Clear-Eye and Silver-Rim began a careful examination, pushing the bellows frequently to produce sound. Amazed, David saw that they had almost instantly learned to produce the same force upon the bag each time; their tentacles apparently were more sensitive to pressure than fingertips.
Having tuned tubular ice chimes, they realized that the tones of this musical instrument also depended upon the length of the tubes, and used their tentacles to melt away and add ice to the ends of the tubes until they had tuned the device to a harmonic chord.
Then David put one gloved hand over the open end of one of the pipes and motioned for Clear-Eye to push down on the bellows again. As the alien did so, the pipe emitted a tone that was an octave lower in pitch. The bodies of the two aliens emitted a “rowf” noise — whether in surprise or pleasure Deirdre never found out.
“A stopped pipe produces a sound that is an octave lower in pitch than an open pipe of the same speaking length,” explained David as he stepped back to let the icerugs repeat his experiment themselves.
Once the icerug craftsmen had satisfied themselves that they understood the construction of the valve and whistle mechanism, they left the device David had made, went to their storeroom, and selecting some very long hollow ice tubes, began to make, out of ice, a whistle and valve for each one.
David bent closer to see, and Clear-Eye obligingly extended its handiwork towards him. With dexterity and skill, the alien was indeed shaping the ice as easily as an earthly potter worked with clay. Meanwhile, Silver-Rim had been identically busy, producing a shorter pipe.
“It looks like they’ll have no problem making pipes, but what concerns me a little is the bellows-bag,” he said, looking along the shelves and in the junk area. “To make an organ large enough to be used in the Grand Meeting Hall would require a gigantic bellows. Coelashark skins might be too expensive to use.”
Clear-Eye pulled loose the bellows from the wind chest and extended it to David, while at the same time Silver-Rim removed the three pipes.
“This has been most interesting,” said Silver-Rim. “Your demonstration is clearly understood. Using air in this way might not have occurred to us for a long time, and we shall want to try many things with these sustainable new tones. This flexible substance of yours we return, as perhaps it is as valuable to you as coelashark skin is to us. Something so simple as a … bellows to move air, we shall, of course, construct out of a more readily available material.
”
“What sort of material?” asked David.
In answer, Silver-Rim pointed to Clear-Eye. “Observe.”
The human’s gaze slid down the considerable length of the alien, to rest upon the thickened area of electric blue carpet that had formed to one side of its pedestal. With growing understanding, they saw a bulging fold of the stuff take shape, and turn into a large and flexible pocket — a wind chest made out of living icerug flesh like the air bag of a bag pipe. The ends of the five pipes, three made by David and two by the aliens, fitted into this living bellows-bag with instant facility. The icerug expanded its own flesh to take in a large quantity of air, and then compressed the pocket, while opening the sliding valves under each pipe with caution, and the clear notes of the ice-pipes sounded again in a perfect noble chord. Deirdre smiled with pure pleasure.
“Well done,” she said quietly. “I cannot fault you, David. The use of air is all you truly had to offer, here, and they’ll be doing much with that.”
“We shall indeed,” agreed the listening icerugs, who moved off into the depths of their storerooms.
The humans, reminded by Josephine of the impending eruption, turned and left the room, although David looked back just once, longingly, at the huge cable-strung harp. Outside, in the increasing light from Gargantua, they rejoined George and Richard at the edge of Pink-Orb’s carpet. Pink-Orb was explaining what would happen.
“As you see, it is approaching the middle of the night. The Sun-God is behind Ice and the Night-God is full in the sky. We cannot see it, but the Near-God is also over the outer hemisphere of Ice and lining up in the sky with the Sun-God. You can see its black shadow moving slowly across the face of the Night-God, approaching the center. You will soon see another shadow.”
As they watched, a black spot appeared on the right side of Gargantua. It was nearly three times as large as the slowly moving shadow of the Near-God moon, Zuni, and moving twice as fast.
“That is the shadow of Ice,” said Pink-Orb. “The moon-god we are on. When the shadow of Ice and the shadow of the Near-God meet near the center of the Night-God, the tide will be at its peak. But even before that time, there will be geyser activity as the tidal pull of the Near-God and the Sun-God stretch the ground below the ocean bottom.” Pink-Orb stopped speaking and raised its quadrant to measure the height of the water column, while Richard imitated the motion with his own sextant.
Roaring with a life of its own, the restless waters rising in the distance surged upwards, bubbling and falling back only for an instant before rising ever higher. Incalculable volumes of water rose in a powerful upward-thrusting tower, thick vapors swirling around as it climbed swiftly. Fringes of water fell from its sides, as most of the rising column was hurled towards the sky in a thundering torrent which the eyes, both human and alien, followed in awe as it rose above them. Still higher and higher it gushed. The top temporarily disappeared into the clouds, then reappeared above them, heading for space. Around them the sleet-like rains from the falling spray began, drenching the icerugs and deepening their colors. In the dim red light of Gargantua, the falling downpour glowed like rubies before splashing onto the frozen ice or the spongy surface of the icerug.
“Uff!” The sudden cry from Pink-Orb startled the humans.
Deirdre and the others had been totally mesmerized by the gigantic waterspout, and looked around in bewilderment.
“What happened?” demanded George. Pink-Orb’s reply was reassuringly elated.
“A coelashark has landed on me! It is quite a large one, so I shall bring it here to explore it for ripe vermicysts, and you may see it.” David watched the node expectantly, but the others, already accustomed to the strange mobility of the icerug’s surface, turned to gaze out over the distant stretches of the carpet. Far away, a plum-colored mound arose in the vast carpet, and moved towards them like a small and specialized wave, bearing a legged fish upon its crest that was as large as a human.
“I’d not fancied they could be so large!” exclaimed Deirdre. “This is a particularly prime one, I am glad to see,” said Pink-Orb. “Some coelasharks are ejected by every large eruption, and although this was only a moderate-sized outpouring, I was fortunate. More will fall at the occasion of the maximum high tide, when both the Near-God and the Far-God are lined up with the Sun-God.”
The humans were transfixed; George was trying to imagine a larger geyser than the one they had just witnessed; David was staring at the weird, motionless specimen of sea-life before him; Richard was grappling with the idea of a rain of coelasharks; and Deirdre was studying every detail of the huge fish, puzzled why its mouth was still twitching.
“Is it truly dead?” asked Deirdre.
“Yes,” said Pink-Orb. “The fall always kills them, but fortunately their strong jawbones and skull protect the delicious vermicysts in their cheeks. They are an irresistible delicacy, although possibly not attractive to you.” Deftly and with surprising strength, two of Pink-Orb’s tentacles forced open the wide mouth of the coelashark, exposing rows of extremely sharp-looking teeth. Both cheeks of the inside of the coelashark’s mouth were inflamed and swollen.
“Looks like it bit its cheek,” said Richard.
“The inside of the cheeks of the coelashark head that Little White brought back were smooth and white,” said Deirdre. “These cheeks look like they have something like a cold sore infection or a boil about to come to a head,” said Deirdre.
“The swelling is so bad I bet it couldn’t even chew,” Richard added.
With two tentacles holding the jaw open, Pink-Orb’s other two tentacles pressed on the inflamed cheek tissue, which broke open with a gush of fluid, revealing a translucent oval-shaped object.
“Ah! A delicious vermicyst. Here, you may look at it while I get the other one.” Pink-Orb handed the cyst to Deirdre to hold while it reached back in the coelashark’s mouth to pry loose the other one from the opposite cheek. The humans handled the flat little cushion carefully, although it was apparently constructed of a tough, semitransparent membrane.
“Somewhat like ‘mermaid’s purses’ — egg cases of rays or dogfish,” said Deirdre. “Except there are no tendrils at the corners. Look you — through it — against the light…” She held the cyst up, and shone her permalight behind it. They could see what looked like tiny tadpole-like worms within, wiggling furiously. Deirdre, with some sotto-voce commands to her chestpack computer, zoomed her helmet video camera in on the strange treasure until she had captured a high resolution image of the tiny creatures inside the cyst. She wanted very much to keep the cyst and its worms for later analysis, but the icerug was obviously waiting for her to give it back.
“What are those little creatures inside the cyst?” asked Deirdre. The icerug paused, with the vermicyst raised to it’s mouth.
“We have no knowledge of what the contents of the vermicyst actually are,” said Pink-Orb. “We do know that they are so wonderfully good to eat that they are usually consumed on the spot — as this one will be.” So saying, the icerug’s mouth opened, exposing small but extremely efficient-looking teeth. The vermicyst was popped inside, over the teeth, and swallowed whole, without chewing, like a human eating an oyster. Pink-Orb soon finished savoring the tidbit, and was looking at the remaining vermicyst.
“I should enjoy eating the other one, but I dare not. Although superbly delicious, vermicysts are so rich in their nature that consuming more than one frequently produces … illness. I shall be able to trade this one, while it is still fresh, for a set of reference plates of mathematical integrals. And the rest of the coelashark I shall transport to the butcher for storage in my food locker. Since the conjunction period is over, I shall now return to the Center of Scientific Studies to report my latest findings regarding the accuracy of my calculations in predicting the dimensions of this eruption. The others at the Center will also be discussing their work, and of course, the Convener of the Center always has a great deal to say, and says it at great length, unlike my own
brevity. There will be another large eruption, similar in size to this one, in not quite two days. It will occur just before midnight. Will you be returning to view it?”
“Two Zulu days,” replied Richard, thinking it over. “That’s about thirty hours. Yes. I’ll certainly be here. See you a few hours before the conjunction.”
The node moved off, with its precious delicacy secure in an elegant pouch suspended from its neckband, while a plum-colored wave bore the dead coelashark swiftly in another direction, but not before Deirdre had obtained permission from Pink-Orb to take some samples using a biopsy punch. Off in the distance, the humans could see the Dragonfly, flying in to take them from the ice shelf. Their next stop would be the other shore, to pick up the flouwen. Then they all would head back to Victoria for a well deserved rest and a decent meal instead of suit snacks.
CHAPTER 10 — FLUSHING
Returning to Victoria, the exploration crew were met by Cinnamon, Sam, and Thomas, who already had lowered the winch in preparation for hauling the flouwen aloft to the airlock. The flouwen were bubbling over in their eagerness to report on what they had seen on their trip to the seamount vent beds.
“The coelashark was walking?” Cinnamon and Deirdre were startled by Little Red’s words, as he began to pour them out even before reaching the comfort of the habitat. Little White continued while the red flouwen was sucked out of his suit.
^Pull of water getting stronger and stronger — we work hard to stay and watch. There was very large coelashark, next to its vent bed. When geyser started spouting, coelashark sink!^
#That’s right!# Little Purple took up the excited account. #It gave off bubbles and sank to bottom. Then it drop sharp rock, pick up heavy rock, and walk on leg-fins.#
“Maybe picking up the rock helps it to fight against the current,” suggested Cinnamon. “So that it’s not swept up by the geyser.”
Ocean Under the Ice Page 24
