Hal Clement - Still River

“I do. Let me think.”

“May I make a point?” It was Joe.

“Of course.”

“If you have suffered chemically from the river, it might be well to get away from the river before you attempt first aid. This will delay your arrival at the hollow and therefore the time when we can get you back to the tent; but this may make little difference, since real treatment probably cannot be started until Classroom with others of your species returns. If you can wait without too much pain, it might be a good idea to hold off opening your helmet until your river has gone, as Charley’s did. Is there very much pain involved, or is it a matter of the inconvenience of not seeing?”

“Mostly the blindness. I can wait, for a while at least. If you can do all the watching for narrow passages and low ceilings, Carrie…”

“I’ll have to do that anyway. I don’t expect just swabbing out will be a cure.”

“It might let normal healing go faster.”

“And it might expose you to another dose that would blind you permanently.” Molly noted with gratitude that her companion refrained from adding anything like “if you aren’t already,” and wondered for a moment whether Charley might cut in with one of his infelicitous remarks. If he were so inclined, Carol gave him no chance. “I can keep alert as well as you, and for a lot longer, and even when 1 have to doze I can still stay on watch after a fashion You know that. We won’t have to stop. You relax—sleep if you can. I’ll tell you if the river disappears, and you can decide then whether you want to try washing your eyes or not. Until then, let me run things, and be thankful it’s your eyes instead of mine. Would you like to have to do the lookout job and face the delay of telling me what to do with the robot every time something came up?”

“Your logic is overwhelming. I am quite delighted.” Molly didn’t care whether Joe got the sarcasm, but rather hoped Carol wouldn’t. If she did, she said nothing.

Charley came through, on private channel.

“I have a lot of Human information in my personal library but can’t get at it until we’re back in electromagnetic range of the boat. A lot of it’s probably medical, and might help. Do you think it will be worthwhile for me to go back now to check it out?”

The offer was tempting. However, the likelihood that Charley had really detailed enough medical material available, even if he had simply transferred whole banks of information unselectively for later browsing, seemed too low to be worth anyone’s time. Molly refused the offer with thanks, not guessing what that would do to confuse further the already undecided Kantrick.

Joe did not hear the offer, of course—the private channels were genuinely private—but the same notion had occurred to him. There was medical data appropriate to all members of the team in the boat, though he knew nothing of Charley’s special collection. He could, with its aid, have set a bone for Molly, Carol, or Jenny, repaired even serious cracks in Charley’s exoskeleton, sewn up or cemented wounds for any of them, treated burns and radiation injury, taken appropriate steps for lack of food or solvent or even air for those who used it; but chemical poisoning was a different game tank. There might be relevant and recognizable information. He might find it quickly enough to be of use. It might involve treatment that Molly and Carol could apply with what they had with them, following directions he could transmit. So he asked Jenny to check for the appropriate information and stayed where he was.

It was far more likely that the real need would be for transportation to the boat. Until Charley reached the interior, the only known way back to the surface was stored in Joe’s mappers; and this meant that Joe could not risk his machine in the tunnels again until the women reached the hollow or were stopped so that he clearly had to go to them. He didn’t like it, but he hung near the inner surface, doing a little very cautious tunnel mapping with his small machines, and otherwise simply waiting.

Charley raced through passages when there was only one way to go, stopped to check wind whenever there was a branch, and groped with his rope flag for appropriate exits when the course led through large caverns. His speed, so much greater than that of Molly and Carol when he had had a river to follow, averaged only a small fraction of its earlier value.

He envied Joe for being already in the hollow, where he could be useful. Joe envied Charley for having something to occupy his attention. Molly envied Carol for being able to see where they were going. Carol envied Jenny for being in the lab getting something practical accomplished.

Jenny, happy as a scientist can be only when the data are falling smoothly into a coherent picture, envied nobody. She made a run-through of the boat’s Human information at Joe’s request, found nothing that seemed relevant, and returned to the real work—properly concerned about her Human friend, but quite clear in mind and conscience that there was nothing more she could do about the matter just then. Joe, or conceivably Charley, would establish physical contact eventually; more effective steps could then be taken. In the meantime, a picture of a tightly coordinated ecology, involving life that seemed to have originated on at least nine different worlds and been interacting here for some unknown length of time, was beginning to emerge. Two fundamentally unrelated forms produced hydrogen peroxide; six contained considerable amounts of hydrazine in their body solvents; and one, with a genetic basis she had never seen or heard of, consumed both, apparently getting its energy by reacting the two to water and nitrogen. At least, this seemed to fit their structures; actual life processes would now have to be checked. Jenny kept happily at work.

“Joe!” Charley’s voice came through the Rimmore’s translator, but failed to catch her attention at first. “I’ve found another river—I think.”

“Why is there doubt?”

“It’s not traveling. I entered a big kame—irregular, over thirty kilometers one way, nearly forty at right angles, and over twenty-five deep—from about the middle of the north side. There was some radar ambiguity from near the top, and I went to check it. There are huge drops of what I suppose must be water just hanging here, drifting around, sometimes coming together and joining. When they do that they start to sink, but before they reach the bottom of the cave, they always break into smaller ones and start up again. It’s sort of river’s end, I’d say—maybe Carol and Molly’s.”

“Possible. Theirs seemed to be larger than your original one, and size would be needed to get that deep against rising hot air. It’s a long way from certain, of course, but maybe you should make another gravity check to see how your depth compares with theirs, and if they aren’t too different, you might wait for a little while anyway. If you can meet them, travel in your machine, especially for Molly, will be a lot better than on theirs.”

“Right. I’ll check.”

Carol chimed in. “You know, if that’s the real limit of the river, whether it’s ours or not, the water or whatever it is ought to be loaded with salts; and if the drops are evaporating all the time and getting fed from above, there ought to be crystals around. Why don’t you check the cave walls for that, too? It would be a pity to wait and do nothing.”

“All right. The laser would give an easy check for dissolved salts; I could boil one of the drops, and if there is solid dust, vaporize it and get a spectrum. I’ll…”

“Charley! DON’T!”

The Rimmore’s grating call was too late; Charley had been acting as he spoke.