Hal Clement - Cycle of Fire

Usually they could see the coast for miles behind them, and oftener than not one of Dar’s eyes was turned in that direction, but the only moving things he ever saw were wild animals, usually quite unconcerned with the travelers.

The trip became a monotony of walking in steaming heat or unpleasantly warm rain. Occasionally Kruger interrupted the traveling with a bath in the sea; warm though the water was, the refreshment resulting from the swim made him feel the risk was worth while. He did this only when Dar wanted to rest, since the Abyormenite had no use for swimming and seemed to think of little except the amount of time they were spending en route.

They had no precise means of measuring the distance they traveled, so that not even Dar could guess when the islands they were seeking would appear; but appear they eventually did. Dar gave a grunt of relief when the first of the little humps appeared far out on the horizon.

“Fifteen years to go. We’ll make it yet.” His confidence may have been a trifle misplaced, but Kruger’s ignorance of the scale of the maps he had seen kept him from realizing that the island chain by which Dar meant to proceed led across eight hundred miles of ocean, and that almost as much land lay between its end and the point on the ice cap which was their goal. He assumed the native’s judgment to be sound and almost relaxed.

“How do we get across the sea?” he contented himself with asking.

“We float.” And Dar Lang Ahn meant it.

This worried Kruger, and his worry did not grow less as time went on. It became increasingly evident that Dar intended to make his trip on a raft, which was the only sort of craft their tools would allow them to build; and even his ignorance of the distance to be covered did not make the boy any happier at the prospect. There was no provision being made for sails; when Kruger mentioned this and finally managed to explain what sails were the pilot explained that the wind always blew against them anyway. They would have to paddle.

“Does the wind never change?” Kruger asked in dismay as he considered the task of moving by muscle power the unwieldy thing that was beginning to take shape on the beach.

“Not enough to matter.”

“But how do you know?”

“I have been flying this route all my life, and a glider cannot be flown by one who does not know what the currents are doing.”

“Didn’t you say that this island chain marked the air route your gliders always take to the Ice Ramparts?” Kruger asked suddenly.

“Those coming from Kwarr, yes.”

“Then why haven’t we seen any?”

“You have not been looking up. I have seen three since we reached this spot. If your eyes were only on the sides of your head and stuck out a little more…”

“Never mind my optical deficiencies! Why didn’t you signal them?”

“How?”

“You were going to reflect sunlight from your belt buckles when I found you; or we could light a fire.”

“Your fire-lighter is in the keeping of our friends whom we have left behind, and even if we lighted one you should know by now that one of my people would not approach a fire. If the pilot saw the smoke he would avoid it and more than likely report it as a new center of volcanic activity.”

“But how about the reflection? Your buckles are still shiny!”

“How does one aim a beam of light from a mirror? I was using the method when you found me because it was the only possible one; I would have been as dead, had you not appeared, as I shall be less than fifteen years from now.”

“Can’t you see the beam of light that the buckle reflects?”

“No. I once saw a mirror so perfectly flat that one could see the ray of sunlight coming from it if there were a little haze in the air, but my buckles are not in that class.”

“Then if they spread the beam it should be that much easier to hit something with it. Why do you not try, at least?”

“I think it would be a waste of time, but if you can suggest a way of pointing the beam reasonably closely you may try the next time a glider comes in sight.”

“Let me see the buckles, please.”

Dar complied with the air of one amusing a rather dull child. Kruger examined the plates of metal carefully. They were more nearly flat than Dar’s words had led him to hope, rectangular in shape, about two inches wide and four long. Two holes about an inch square were present in each one, and between these a single small circular hole which in service held a peg for securing the leather straps threaded through the larger openings. Kruger smiled as he finished his examination, but handed them back to their owner without any comment except, “I’ll take you up on that offer. Let me know when another glider appears, if I don’t see it myself.”

Dar went back to work with little interest in Kruger’s idea, whatever it might be, but he obediently kept one eye roving about the horizon. He was a little annoyed that Kruger was now constantly lifting his head to do the same thing, but was fair-minded enough to admit that the poor creature couldn’t help it. He was even more annoyed when Kruger proved the first to spot an approaching aircraft, but watched with interest as the boy prepared to use the buckles in signaling.

All he saw, however, was that a buckle was held before one of the small eyes, which apparently sighted through the center hole at the approaching glider. Dar could see no reason why this should give any assistance in aiming the reflected beam. He did see the spot of light shining through the same central opening on Kruger’s face, but had no means of telling that the boy had so placed the mirror that the reflection of his own features in its back had taken a definite position — one which brought the spot of sunlight on the reflected face directly on the hole through which he was looking at the glider. Holding himself as motionless as possible, he spoke.

“Do you have any special signal that depends on flashes of light — something the pilot would definitely recognize?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll just have to hope that he’ll be curious about a constant blink.” Kruger began rocking the mirror back and forth as he spoke.

Dar Lang Ahn was astonished when the actions of the aircraft showed plainly that its occupant had seen the flashes and he made no secret of the fact. Kruger passed it off as an everyday occurrence. He was still young, after all.

THE GLIDER did not land; its pilot was too cautious for that. Whatever might be making the flashes on the beach below was almost certainly not a launching catapult and if he touched the ground he would stay there. He had books of his own and had no intention of risking them. Nevertheless he skimmed low enough to make out the figures of Dar and Kruger and to be as puzzled by the latter as Dar had been.

One advantage of a glider is its silence. This characteristic, combined with the hyper-acute hearing of the Abyormenites, enabled a conversation to take place between Dar and the glider pilot. It was carried out in snatches as the aircraft swooped over and interrupted until it had passed on, turned into the updraft at the edge of the forest, picked up the altitude it had lost, and returned for another pass. Eventually, however, Dar got across the fact which he considered most important — the whereabouts of his books.

“I understand,” the pilot called down at length. “I will go on, turn in my load, and give your report. You had better stay where you are. Is there anything else that should be known by the Teachers?”

“Yes. My companion. You can see he is not a person. He knows much that is not in the books; he should go to the Teachers himself.”

“Does he speak?”