Hal Clement - Heavy Planet

“That’s not all of it, I’d guess.” Benj’s tone made the meteorologist look sharply away from the screen. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You must know what’s the matter. Beetch and his friend were under there. They must have been. How could they have gotten away from that hot water? I bet the captain only just thought of it; he?d never have let them use that way if he?d seen what would happen, any more than I would have. Can you imagine what happened to Beetch?? McDevitt thought rapidly; the boy wouldn’t be convinced, or even comforted, by anything but sound reasoning, and McDevitt’s soundest reasoning suggested that Benj’s conclusion was probably right. However, he tried. “It looks bad, but don’t give up. It doesn’t look as though this thing melted its way all the way across under the ship, but it might have; and either way there’s some hope. If it did, they could have gotten out the other side, which we can’t see; if it didn’t, they could have stayed right at the edge of the liquid zone, where the ice could have saved them. Also, they may not have been under there.”

“Water ice save them? I thought you said that this stuff froze because it lost its ammonia, not because the temperature went down. Water ice at its melting point, zero centigrade, would give heat-stroke to a Mesklinite.”

“That was my guess,” admitted the meteorologist, “but I’m certainly not sure of it. I don’t have enough measurements of any sort. I admit your little friend may have been killed; but we know so little of what has happened down there that it would be silly to give up hope. Just wait, there’s nothing else to do at this distance anyway. Even Dondragmer is staying put. You can trust him to check as soon as it’s possible.” Benj restrained himself, and did his best to look for bright possibilities; but the eye he was supposed to be keeping on Stakendee remained fixed on the captain’s image. Several times Dondragmer extended part of his length onto the ice, but each time he drew back again, to the boy’s intense annoyance. At last, however, he seemed satisfied that the ice would hold his weight, and inch by inch extended himself entirely onto the newly frozen surface. Once off the power box he waited for a moment as though expecting something to happen; the ice held, and he resumed his way toward the side of the Kwembly. The human beings watched; Benj’s fists were clenched tightly and even the man was more tense than usual. They could hear nothing. Not even the hoot, which suddenly echoed across the ice, penetrated the bridge to affect their communicator. They could not even guess why Dondragmer suddenly turned back from the hull as he was about to disappear under it. They could only watch as he raced back across the ice to a point just below his two men and waved excitedly at them, apparently indifferent to whatever there was to be learned about the fate of his helmsman and Benj’s friend.

Dondragmer was far from indifferent, but by his standards it was normal to focus attention on a new matter likely to require action rather than to clear up an old one where action was unlikely to help. He had not forgotten the fate of his men but when a distant hoot bore the words “Here’s the end of the stream,” his program changed abruptly and drastically. He could not see where the voice was coming from, since he was two feet below the general surface, but Borndender reported glimpses of a light perhaps half a mile away. At the captain’s order, the scientist climbed the hull part way to get a better view, while his assistant went in search of a rope to get the captain out of the ice pit. This took time. The sailors had, with proper professional care, returned the lines used in lowering the radiator bar to their proper places inside the cruiser; and when Skendra, Borndender’s assistant, tried to get through the main lock he found it sealed by a layer of clear ice which had frozen a quarter of an inch thick on the starboard side of the hull, evidently from the vapor emitted by the hot pool. Fortunately most of the holdfasts were projecting far enough through this to be usable, so he was able to climb on up to the bridge lock. Meanwhile, Borndender called down that there were two lights approaching across the river bed. At the captain’s order, he howled questions across the thouand-yard gap, and the two listened carefully for answers: even Mesklinite voices had trouble carrying distinct words for such a distance and through two layers of air suit fabric. By the time Dondragmer was out of the hole, they knew that the approaching men were the part of Stakendee’s command which had been ordered downstream: they had reached its end less than a mile from the ship, but until the group actually reached them, no further details could be obtained. When they were, the officers could not entirely understand them; the description did not match anything familiar. “The river stayed about the same size all the way down,” the sailors reported. “It wasn’t being fed from anywhere, and didn’t seem to be evaporating. It wound among the stones a lot, when it got down to where they were. Then we began to run into the funniest obstructions. There would be a sort of dam of ice, with the stream running around one end or the other of it. Half a cable or so farther on there?d be another dam, with just the same thing happening. It was as though some of it froze when it met the ice among the stones, but only the lead part. The water that followed stayed liquid and went on around the dam until it found some ice. The dams would build up to maybe half a body length high before the following water would find its way around. We reached the last one, where it was still happening, just a few minutes ago. We’d seen the bright cloud rising over the ship before that, and wondered whether we ought to come back in case something was wrong, but we decided to carry out orders at least until the river started to lead us away from the Kwembly again.”

“Good,” said the captain. “You’re sure the stream wasn’t getting any bigger?”

“As nearly as we could judge, no.”

“All right. Maybe we have more time than I thought, and what’s happening isn’t a prelude to what brought us here. I wish I understood why the liquid was freezing in that funny way, though.”

“We’d better check with the human beings,” suggested Borndender, who had no ideas on the matter either but preferred not to put the fact too bluntly. “Right. And they’ll want measurements and analyses. I suppose you didn’t bring a sample of that river,” he said, rather than asked, the newcomers. “No, sir. We had nothing to carry it in.”

“All right. Born, get containers and bring some back; analyze it as well and as quickly as you can. One of these men will guide you. I’ll go back to the bridge and bring the humans up to date. The rest of you get tools and start chipping ice so we can use the main lock.” Dondragmer closed the conversation by starting to climb the ice-crusted hull. He waved toward the bridge as he went, assuming that he was being watched and perhaps even recognized. Benj and McDevitt had managed to keep track of him, though neither found it easy to tell Mesklinites apart. They were waiting eagerly when he reached the bridge to hear what he had to say. Benj in particular had grown ever more tense since the search under the cruiser had been interrupted; perhaps the helmsmen had not been there after all; perhaps they had been among the newcomers who had arrived to interrupt the search, perhaps, perhaps. Although McDevitt was a quiet man by nature, even he was getting impatient by the time Dondragmer’s voice reached the station. The report fascinated the meteorologist, though it was no consolation to his young companion. Benj wanted to interrupt with a question about Beetchermarlf, but knew that it would be futile; and when the captain’s account ended, McDevitt immediately began to talk. “This is not much more than a guess, Captain,” he began, “though perhaps your scientist will be able to stiffen it when he analyzes those samples. It seems possible that the pool around you was originally an ammonia-water solution (we had evidence of that before) which froze, not because the temperature went down but because it lost much of its ammonia and its freezing point went up. The fog around you just before this whole trouble started, back on the snow field, was ammonia, your scientists reported. I?m guessing that it came from the colder areas far to the west. Its droplets began to react with the water ice, and melted it partly by forming a eutectic and partly by releasing heat; you were afraid of something of that sort even before it happened, as I remember. That started your first flood. When the ammonia cloud passed on into Low Alpha, the solution around you began to lose ammonia by evaporation, and finally the mixture which was left was below its freezing point. I?m guessing that the fog encountered by Stakendee is more ammonia, and has provided the material for the rivulet he has found. As the fog meets the water ice near you they mix until the mixture is too dilute in ammonia to be liquid any more (this forms the dam your men described) and the liquid ammonia still coming has to find a way around. I would suggest that if you can find a way to divert that stream over to your ship and if there proves to be enough of it, your melting-out problem would be solved.? Benj, listening in spite of his mood, thought of wax flowing from a guttering candle and freezing first on one front and then another. He wondered whether the computers would handle the two situations alike, if ammonia and heat were handled the same way in the two problems. “You mean I shouldn’t worry about a possible flood?” Dondragmer’s voice finally returned. “I’m guessing not,” replied McDevitt. “If I’m right about this picture, and we’ve been talking it over a lot up here, the fog that Stakendee met should have passed over the snow plain you came from, or what’s left of it, and if it were going to cause another flood that should have reached you by now. I suspect the snow which was high enough to spill into the pass you were washed through was all used up on the first flood, and that’s why you were finally left stranded where you are. If the new fog hasn’t reached you yet, by the way, I think I know the reason. The place where Stakendee met it is a few feet higher than you are and air flowing from the west is coming downhill. With Dhrawn’s gravity and that air composition there’d be a terrific foehn effect (adiabatic heating as the pressure rises) and the stuff is probably evaporating just as it gets to the place where Stakendee met it.” Dondragmer took a while to digest this. For a few seconds after the normal delay time, McDevitt wondered whether he had made himself clear; then another question came through. “But if the ammonia fog were simply evaporating, the gas would still be there, and must be in the air around us now. Why isn’t it melting the ice just as effectively as though it were in liquid drops? Is some physical law operating which I missed in the College?? “I’m not sure whether state and concentration would make all that difference, just from memory,” admitted the meteorologist. “When Borndender gets the new data up here I’ll feed the whole works into the machine to see whether this guess of ours is ignoring too many facts. On the basis of what I have now, I still think it’s a reasonable one, but I admit it has its fuzzy aspects. There are just too many variables; with only water they are practically infinite, if you’ll forgive a loose use of the word; with water and ammonia together the number is infinity squared. “To shift from abstract to concrete, I can see Stakendee’s screen and he’s still going along beside that streamlet in the fog; he hasn’t reached the source but I haven’t seen any other watercourses feeding in from either side. It’s only a couple of your body lengths wide, and has stayed about the same all along.”