At the first sound from the pipe, Deirdre forgot all about the icerugs about her; she didn’t even notice David coming into the anteroom to stand beside her. For the sound was a note, a tone so deep, she thought it might be the floor throbbing beneath her. It went on and on, steady and soft, and then, as the pulsating beat continued, more and more tones joined in one by one, low but rising, forming chords which changed and then swelled again, the notes still rising through a song like a thousand human voices and still upward to an ethereal chorus as if the aurora had been turned into sound. Then, descending, the chords changed, shifting and blending, now softening to a single pure note, now enlarging to a multi-tongued chord that reverberated in every body. The hair on Deirdre’s neck was erect, and Foxx quivered on her shoulder, as the incredible voice of that mighty organ echoed in the vault and filled every niche with beauty. Motionless, humans and aliens stood entranced until, with a final melodic whisper, the instrument was silent.
* * *
In the waters below the ice shelf, the flouwen were busy. In their previous survey of the vent fields around Manannan geyser, they had made a cautious long range survey of the entire area using sonar. Now that they had a map, and knew what types of lifeforms existed in different regions of the lake, they began collecting samples of the smaller fauna and flora, sealing them up in plastic bags, and taking them to Cinnamon, who inspected them briefly and put them away in insulated carrying boxes, while the flouwen went back for more. It was soon obvious that the lifeforms found beneath the thick ice under Windward City were significantly different from those found beneath the ice of the empty shore.
#Many holes in ice,# Little Purple was explaining to Cinnamon. #Out of holes flows much water, rich in tastes.#
“Those might be the waste vents of the icerugs,” said Cinnamon.
*Taste like Creepy@Stink!* complained Little Red.
^But Creepy@Stink is good to eat,^ reminded Little White. ^There are many things — seaweed, sponges, fishes — that are found only around vents. They like vent water.^
“Please get samples of the water from around the vents,” Cinnamon requested the flouwen. “There may be tiny things in the water that can only be seen under a microscope.”
*Back soon!* said Little Red, as the three flouwen took another quantity of sample bags and swam off, moving gracefully despite their constricting drysuits. They came to the edge of the ice shelf and swam under it. The light from Gargantua faded away into blackness — but that didn’t bother the flouwen. The sharp sonic pings from their bodies illuminated the sea around them and the ice above them with a searchlight of sound.
#That vent over there very active,# remarked Little Purple as he shot off a focused beam of sound in the direction of the jet to draw attention to it.
^It is emitting again — very heavily,^ remarked Little White.
*Something come from vent!* exclaimed Little Red, picking up speed and sending focused chirp after chirp into the water, as he closed in on his target. A quick swoop of the sample bag and the prey was captured. The other two flouwen came to examine the prize with their sonar pings.
*Tiny!* complained Little Red. *Not worth catching!*
#Very tiny,# agreed Little Purple. #But different from other things. Looks like tiny worm.#
^The human Cinnamon asked us to look for small things,^ Little White reminded them. ^We shall take it back.^
* * *
Katrina and Deirdre bent over the sample bag, one of the many lying out on their improvised examining table at the base of Victoria while Richard, Cinnamon, and Sam were winching the flouwen back up into the airlock. The tiny inhabitant of the bag was still moving, although not as vigorously as when Little White had first given it to Cinnamon. The ocean water within the bag was starting to freeze in the frigid air, and both humans were anxious to learn all they could from the minute life-form before it expired in this hostile environment.
“Very similar, it is, to the worms in the vermicyst that I obtained enlarged video images of,” said Deirdre thoughtfully.
“We can take similar-sized pictures of this fellow and compare them,” said Katrina. “Look, it’s nearly motionless with cold, let’s get it into an insulated container until we’ve got some good pictures.”
The small biologist bounced up the Jacob’s ladder carrying the insulated box, while Deirdre collected the rest of their gear and followed more slowly. Her thoughts were busy, exploring possible life-cycles, untrammeled by convention. Learning of the bizarre and complex interaction on earth between certain insects, flowers, lizards, and trees had long ago made Deirdre aware that an individual creature could have an unbelievably roundabout dependence on other creatures.
“I talked some more with the flouwen,” reported Cinnamon as she helped Deirdre out of her suit. “Trying to pin down exactly where they caught the vent worm. They remember exactly where they were at the time, and they and Josephine pinpointed it with respect to underwater surface features. The active waste vent was right under the area of ice occupied by Pink-Orb.”
In the small but efficiently organized lab space aboard the Victoria, the three biologists used an optical microscope to look at the worm found near Pink-Orb’s waste vent.
“It’s a single-celled creature,” said Katrina, as she adjusted the focus on the microscope. “Has the typical double-knobbed cell structure of all the creatures on Zulu, except that one knob has specialized into a large tail so it can swim about.”
“There is a distinctive banding structure on the tail,” said Cinnamon. “That should help in the comparison.”
“Now to pull up the enlarged video image Deirdre got of the worm in the vermicyst,” said Katrina. Soon the two images were side by side on the screen.
“The banding structure is the same on both worms,” said Cinnamon.
“So,” said Katrina, pointing to the two enlarged images on the console screen. “Pink-Orb ate the vermicyst worms in this video image, and later the worm in this microscope image — with the same banding pattern — shows up near Pink-Orb’s waste vent. If not a certainty, it’s a reasonable conjecture that this vent worm passed through Pink-Orb’s interior.”
“It’s hard to tell because of the poor resolution of the video image, but the head of the vent worm looks a little larger,” remarked Deirdre, not quite sure.
Katrina, however, was positive. “I think that’s just an optical illusion because of the liquid in the cyst. There is no question about the banding pattern though. They are identical.
That vent worm came from the cyst Pink-Orb took from the dead coelashark.”
“With dire results for Pink-Orb,” Cinnamon added wryly.
“Oh, now, wait you there,” cautioned Deirdre. “They’ve known for long that the vermicysts are not good for them — remember?”
Cinnamon nodded. “That’s right, Pink-Orb said it couldn’t resist eating the one, although it was so … rich,” she recalled. “But what I’m really curious about, is its presence in the coelashark. The flouwen watched a mature coelashark walk deliberately toward the geyser.” Her emphasis on the word made the others think.
“And the icerug said the mature ones were the ones infected with cysts,” said Katrina thoughtfully.
“Hmm,” mused Deirdre. “So small a scrap of life. But it might — just possibly — have real power.”
“What?” Katrina looked up quickly. “What power are you talking about?”
“The vermicyst came from the swollen cheek of a coelashark that had very likely committed suicide by letting itself be drawn into the geyser. The vermicyst had a lifeform within, which survived a fall which killed the coelashark outright. Protected by the cyst and the coelashark’s body, that lifeform did not immediately freeze to death in the cold air out on the surface. It was quickly found by an icerug, prized loose because of its exquisite flavor, and immediately swallowed, but not chewed, thus quickly finding its way into the warm body of an icerug — perhaps to be digested — perhaps not. Next, Richard
reports that those icerugs that swallow vermicysts have a tendency to diarrhea. And now this small specimen was found — according to Little White — near the waste vent of an icerug, a vent showing unusual activity. How now if this worm were a deadly parasite which infected a coelashark, drove it to suicide, enticed an icerug to consume it, and then forced the icerug to discharge it through its waste vent — unharmed — so it could infect another coelashark?”
This was an unusually long speech for Deirdre, but its import was what startled the others.
There was silence.
“I don’t know,” said Katrina firmly, “But I feel the icerugs should be informed. Perhaps, if they don’t eat any more of them, the infection cycle will be interrupted. George says there’s the equivalent of a Surgeon General in the city, the Convener of the Center for Medical Studies. The Medical Convener, at least, should be told about all this.”
“Truly I disagree,” said Deirdre. “It’s interfering, again!”
“But only with a small bit of information about their own world,” said Cinnamon reasonably. “And you’re not ordering, or insisting — you’re just passing along an observation we’ve made, of a connection between coelashark deaths and icerug illness. And, tell you what, Deirdre,” she added suddenly, “You be the one to tell the icerugs! That way, you can word it as carefully as you like!”
Deirdre considered. She had never tried to be an ambassador, having little respect for those who manipulated people with words. But she cared intensely about learning all she could of this strange world, and surely, talking with the Convener of the Medical Center might reveal facts which the aliens took for granted. And, besides, this mission certainly was better entrusted to someone as reticent as herself, rather than a well-meaning, kindhearted Katrina. She stood up, and started for the passway leading up to the control center on the flight deck of Victoria.
“A word with George, first,” she said. “And if he agrees with us, it’s me off to have a word with the Doctor. But just a wee one, mind you!”
George concurred with the biologists’s decision, and on their next visit to Windward City Deirdre marched briskly between the icerugs, following George’s directions to find the Convener of the Center of Medical Studies. She deviated from the path only long enough to take another quick look at the imposing ice-organ, silent now in the large anteroom. The pipes looked strange, hanging down from the wall with their bottoms open to the air, with no wind chest or complicated air valves and sliding stop arrangements underneath. All of that apparatus on a key organ was replaced by a single icerug body that “blew” air with its body into each organ pipe when and as required. The thought of how quickly these alien intelligences had grasped David’s crude model and extrapolated this sophisticated wonder impressed upon Deirdre, yet again, the necessity of dealing with the highly intelligent icerugs with great care.
Accordingly, when she found the Convener at the Center for Medical Studies, she proceeded slowly, talking in general terms of admiration while she looked the creature over thoroughly. The node of this icerug was of substantial size, and the orb of its large eye was of a cool green which struck both human and alien as familiar. It was a shock to Deirdre to see an eye so similar to her own in color, but she rallied quickly, noting with scientific detachment that the icerug’s illuminating region glinted softly on the short, flared cloak it wore, of an almost copper hue that hung down over the ultramarine pedestal. As the formal greetings continued, Deirdre stared thoughtfully upward into Green-Eye’s countenance and decided to approach her subject with a question.
“As you and your fellows are aware of the mishaps which can occur after ingesting the chance-found vermicysts, why is it that the practice persists?”
“Severe diarrhea, you mean,” said the Convener matter-of-factly. “Yes, that is the customary result. It can be extremely debilitating, particularly in older members of society, and can lead to complications, although these are fortunately rare. But to return to your question; it is impossible to describe the flavor of something to one who has never partaken of it, but I can assure you that once tried, it is irresistible indeed. In fact, the curious part of the experience is that ordinarily, one cyst is sufficient; few feel compelled to eat both of the delicious objects.”
“The observations of our friends the flouwen lead us to believe that there might be a connection between the apparently suicidal behavior of the coelasharks and those same wee worms which arrive, alive, here on the surface,” said Deirdre carefully. “It might possibly be a wise precaution to refrain from consuming the morsels altogether, until such time as more is known.”
“That is a logical suggestion, especially since the effects of eating a vermicyst are often unpleasant — and one I have considered recommending myself,” responded Green-Eye. “However, it is difficult for me to urge abstinence upon my patients when I cannot practice it myself.”
Deirdre wondered, briefly, if the vermicysts were addictive, in the earthly sense of the word, but further talk revealed that no icerug deliberately set out to find a vermicyst; it was simply welcomed as a rare treat.
“I suppose, over time, the vermicyst has gradually acquired and perfected its unique flavor,” she speculated aloud. “As part of its own evolution.” There was no immediate reply after the suit imp had translated the last word using its glassy-foil speaker and Deirdre looked up, surprised at the lack of response.
“The translation your talking machine used for that last word was a short phrase that is completely meaningless to me,” said the tall icerug. “The phrase was ‘favorable modifications occurring during successive reproductions’. Each of those words means something to me, but the phrase as a whole is meaningless. What is … evolution?” The human word sounded ominous when spoken in an icerug’s deep tones.
Alarms went off in Deirdre’s racing mind. Had she blundered into a taboo subject? Warily, she chose her words. “Evolution, to the scientists of our world, is a theory that the changes which occur from generation to generation in a species are due to modifications which are favorable to reproduction of that species.” She felt a trifle helpless, hoping that Josephine’s translation would not be taken ill. Instead, the alien seemed still unsure of what she had said.
“Theories, of course, we use,” said Green-Eye. “They follow hypothesis and experimentation. And modifications are performed every time one improves a tool or artifact. But — generation? And, the meaning of the translation given to the word reproduction does not seem to imply the making of an object identical to another, but instead the formation of a copy of an object by the original object itself. Can you elucidate further?”
Still feeling her way cautiously, Deirdre decided to begin with simplistic, general life-forms, and avoid the dangers possibly inherent in discussing the icerugs’s own sex-life. Accordingly, she began with the lowest form of Zulu life she could recall that could be seen under an icerug optical microscope. It was a single-celled algae which lived in the ice near the shores of the warm lake where the ice was not as cold as it was elsewhere on the moon. When present in sufficient numbers, it colored the ice blue-green. She was heartened when the quick intelligence before her seemed to understand.
“We have occasionally observed such things.” The icerug’s description indeed seemed to be the same and Deirdre proceeded confidently.
“Now, when this wee creature is mature, and is ready to create replicas of itself…”
“How can it do such a thing? Why should it?” In apparently genuine bafflement, the icerug began to ask questions so basic that Deirdre floundered, and stopped to reflect. A few more questions brought forth the information that all observations of the algae had been on frozen specimens, brought in from the dangerous ice shelves to the safety of the icerug laboratories, which, of course, were kept at below freezing temperatures to keep the ice lenses in the microscopes from melting. The reason for examining the algae had primarily been to determine why the ice turned green, and once that had been determined, no at
tempt had been made to culture the tiny lifeforms, so the icerugs had never seen them replicate.
Deirdre now wished, rather desperately, that she hadn’t brought the matter of evolution and reproduction up, but she was too honest to try to avoid an explanation. Slowly, she explained the essential processes of procreation, and the amazed icerug learned for the first time of life’s varied methods of reproduction. Deirdre started with the budding of simple cells, and progressed in as orderly a manner as she could through the complications of evolution, describing the value of sex and its mixing of genes. Frequently, she was forced to back-track, to explain terms to the alien; “cloning” presented little difficulty, but “buds” and “shoots” and differing “sexes” did, and she was limp after an hour’s talk.
Fortunately, the icerug’s native intelligence far surpassed hers, and it was able to absorb data and arrive at its own conclusions instantaneously. Deirdre was immensely relieved to see that nothing of what she had said appeared to disturb Green-Eye’s sensibilities; the alien was simply curious and interested. She decided to explore, tentatively.
“Would you be willing to tell me, Green-Eye, if one of the processes we have been discussing is the manner in which young icerugs come to exist? I have not observed differing sexes among you, but I am ignorant of your world, and wish only to learn more. Please tell me if that is a question I may not ask.”
“Why not?” was the calm reply. “No, all you have said is most interesting, but we icerugs do not utilize any such means of … reproducing … ourselves that you have mentioned.” The new word was used with a note of satisfaction. “Young icerugs come to us from the far plains of ice outside our nation. A few of them are unacceptable to us and are consumed, but when one is pleasing to one of us, the rest have no difficulty in accommodating to its presence, and it is welcomed and raised among us.”
“And, the ones consumed, they resemble normal icerugs in all respects save taste?” Deirdre had observed cannibalism in far too many species to be upset by it, and it seemed unimportant to this alien.
Ocean Under the Ice Page 26
