Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Not a bad idea, but they’re not as crazy as you think.”

“They are scholars.” Hunnar punctuated the comment with a grunt. “It is much the same thing.” There was no literal translation in Tran for scientist, Ethan knew, and the natives had decided to use the nearest formal equivalent.

“I would not know,” said Mousokka. “I am but a simple sailor.”

“Just make sure they keep out of your way,” Hunnar instructed him. “We don’t want them interfering with normal routine or hurting themselves.” He glanced at Ethan to insure this met with his approval.

“Don’t be obvious about it and it’ll be okay. I doubt they’ll notice anyone keeping an eye on them anyway. They’re too busy with their work. Preoccupied. You have to understand that because of Commonwealth regulations, they’ve been cooped up in Brass Monkey ever since the place was established. Now that they’ve been allowed out to see more of your world, they don’t want to miss a single thing. They want to see everything.”

“Eorvin.” Mousokka left muttering to himself.

The activities of the human scholars remained a mystery to the Tran, but at least the sailors and soldiers were sufficiently sophisticated not to ascribe everything Hwang and her people did to witchcraft or sorcery. It was much simpler just to explain that the scholars were all slightly daft.

Such as the morning when a ravenous flock of carnivorous snigaraka was driven by hunger to move against the ship. A lookout spotted them and gave the alarm as they wheeled above the ship’s path and prepared to attack. When they finally dived at the deck, unarmed personnel had already taken refuge below and the soldiers were ready to meet them. Arrows and crossbow bolts picked one fanged flyer after another out of the sky.

One fell close by Ethan’s feet. It was two meters long from nose to tail, with a gaping mouth lined with spikes. The latter were not teeth but the sharp, jagged edge of two horny plates which formed the jaws. Like every successful Tran-ky-ky lifeform it was covered with a coat of fine fur. Unlike the Tran, the bristles of the snigaraka were hollow to conserve weight while maximizing heat retention. Their wings were short and broad, more like those of a hawk than an eagle. The tails were the most distinctive feature in that they were held vertically instead of horizontally, and there were two of them.

With sharp projectiles and grasping talons flashing around him, Moware sat high up in the rigging preserving the battle on his recorder, calmly adding explanatory notes where necessary. Tran yelled at him to come down. He ignored them, and it was possible he never heard them. Two snigaraka could easily have plucked him from his webbing and carried him off, or he could have been knocked from his perch to the deck or the ice. Of those potential disasters he appeared blissfully unaware, a delighted smile creasing his face as he imaged the attack for posterity, not to mention future study.

Later that day, after the aerial assault had been beaten off, the xenologist played back his recording for the benefit of his fellow scientists. They sat clustered around the recorder as it played back the battle, offering comments and asking questions and completely ignoring the obvious danger Moware had placed himself in. It was wholly incidental to the information obtained. When an attacking snigaraka swooped down on Moware and the lethal jaws momentarily filled the recorder’s lens, the only comments to be heard involved the structure of the jaws: were they true jaws or a flexible beak?

All the grumbling about the strange and disturbing actions of the scholars finally came to a head when one of them asked Third Mate Kilpit if they might seek out another flock of the airborne assassins in order to complete their documentation of the snigaraka’s method of attack.

“It is one thing to convoy these alien creatures to an unknown land,” Kilpit told Ta-hoding, “another to deliberately place ourselves in danger to satisfy their strange and inexplicable desires.”

“Did anyone get in your way during the attack?” Elfa asked the mate.

“Well, no, my lady.” Kilpit dug into his pelt for a persistent nibbler and looked uncomfortable.

“Was anyone injured because of something the humans did?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then you have no complaint.”

Hunnar was more understanding. “Some of the crew are confused. That which is new and different is always confusing. I will talk with the scholars.”

What he did was convey the disquiet to Ethan, who agreed to have a chat with Hwang’s group.

“You have to understand,” she said when he’d finished relaying the Tran’s concerns, “that it’s difficult for us to restrain our enthusiasm. After years stuck in offices, we’ve suddenly been given a whole world to examine.” Her manner was formal without being standoffish.

“I understand,” Ethan replied, “and Hunnar understands, and Elfa and probably Ta-hoding understand, but the common sailors and soldiers in the crew, they don’t understand. And they’re nervous about what they don’t understand. They watch while you run your experiments and engage in inexplicable activities and they conjure up all sorts of superstitious nonsense.”

“We keep too much to ourselves. You and Milliken and September move freely among them, have for a long time now, so they accept you and your individual idiosyncrasies.” Blanchard supported his chin with his left hand. He wore his mustache, Ethan mused, like an afterthought. “We may not be athletes, but after two years and more on this world we’re in pretty good shape. You have to be to qualify for posting to a world like Tran-ky-ky.” He glanced up at Ethan.

“Because of our arrangement which involved sending a large portion of the ship’s complement home, it is presently minimally crewed.”

Ethan nodded. “That’s so.”

Blanchard regarded his colleagues. “We’ve all done heavy work in survival suits. Perhaps we could help.”

“No, no,” Ethan told him. “Ta-hoding looks like a jolly, easy-going type, but he’s not where his ship’s concerned.”

“We wouldn’t try anything we couldn’t handle.” Almera Jacalan, the resident geologist, flexed an arm. “We’re intelligent enough to know what we can and can’t do.”

“Put it to the captain,” Hwang decided. “It might be fun.” Murmurs of agreement came from her colleagues.

“Sure.” Jacalan laughed at the prospect. “I can pull a pika-pina cable with the best of them, and we know we won’t have to swab the decks. You can’t wash outside on this world because any liquid freezes instantly. Besides,” she added, “the crew ought to know that in a tight spot they can call on us for assistance.”

“I’ll suggest it.” Ethan sounded doubtful.

He was honestly surprised when Ta-hoding agreed. “A couple of extra hands, be they furred or not, would be welcomed. By all means let the scholars learn the ways of the Slanderscree. One need not be an experienced sailor to help pull in an anchor.”

It was as Blanchard had hoped. With the humans working alongside, the crew came to know them as individuals. They gradually put aside their fear and suspicion and before many more days had passed were enthusiastically demonstrating how to do everything from adjusting the spars to scraping the sails. Everyone was able to relax because all knew the arrangement was only temporary. They would take on additional, experienced hands at Poyolavomaar.

Everyone was relieved at the cessation of tension and surprised at the feeling of camaraderie that quickly developed. While learning how the icerigger was handled, some of the scientists began to give the Tran short courses in geology and climatology. The lessons generated grudging admiration among the sailors, while the scientists ceased to view their furry, big-eyed companions as primitive aborigines.