Hal Clement: Fossil

The third dimension was another matter, however. No one afterward tried to judge how much of the Samian’s subsequent contortions should be attributed to random Habranha wind and how much to Barrar’s own unskilled efforts at control. A being may know perfectly well what feedback is, and even such physical laws as Conservation of Angular Momentum, but reasoning takes time; flying and jumping take reflexes. He was upside down before reaching the peak of his trajectory. His poles waved frantically; one was knocked from his grip as it struck the wing of the first native to attempt a rescue pass.

He was out of the lighted region now, and neither of the Erthumoi could really see what was going on. They might have made some gasp or other anxiety-driven sound, but with no voices could only watch, worry, and feel the discomfort as diving liquid was driven slowly through their windpipes by the reflexes which would normally have made them cry out. Barrar, as far as they could tell, was equally silent; whatever panic reflexes he might have been indulging did not involve his artificial voice. The translators should have been crackling with orders or signals among the natives, Hugh thought briefly, but even the radio spectrum seemed to be silent. The reflexes of the flyers were all aimed at flying, not communicating.

A second Habra, barely missing the one whose wing had knocked Barrar’s pole away, secured a grip on the Samian’s skeletal leg — the skier was still upside down — and for the moment seemed to end the danger since the burden was so light. The limb, however, had not been designed with enough foresight, and proved unable under tension to support the weight of the rest of the structure even in Habranha’s gravity. It came away at what the Erthumoi considered the knee, and Barrar was falling again with less control than ever, while Ted found himself holding a left shin, foot, and ski. The translators started buzzing and crackling, but emitted no comprehensible words; several of the Habras were speaking at once. This lasted only a few seconds before silence, except for the endless variable fluting of the wind, returned.

Ted swung far to one side and tossed leg and ski clear, while one of his companions made another attempt to intercept the falling Samian. The task proved easier this time; Barrar had stopped trying to do anything for himself, and the aerodynamic problems were accordingly less complex. The native secured a grip on the skeleton’s shoulders while he himself was nearly inverted, and without apparent difficulty brought the rotation of the Habra-Samian system to a halt with the remaining leg and ski underneath. Half a minute later Barrar was lowered beside the Erthumoi, and Ted was asking rather diffidently whether there would have been serious damage if they had let him fall head downward.

The Samian seemed amused.

“This walker shouldn’t have been hurt. I certainly wouldn’t have been, since there isn’t any head on this machine.”

“But your own body is fairly close to the top. If that had collapsed at the impact, wouldn’t you have been injured or killed?”

“In theory, the frame should be able to protect me. I designed it to. Of course, I also designed these legs — it’s hard to say just what might have happened. I am most grateful to you that I did not learn — what is that cynical Erthumoi term? — ’the hard way.’ I suppose my dignity would have taken some damage, at least. It probably should anyway, but as long as no Crotonites are on hand I can stand that.”

The Habras seemed somewhat surprised.

“Why should it be any worse for Crotonites to see you? I’ve met some who react very badly to ridicule, even from their own kind and especially from what they call slugs or crawlers, but I don’t see why being laughed at hv a Crotonite is any worse than by anyone else.”

“It’s not completely sensible, I admit. I’m not an administrator by choice or taste, and maybe I’m too self-conscious. This is just a task until I can write something that will earn me scholarly status; in the meantime, I worry whenever I do something silly. Crotonites are very good at pointing out the silly doings of us crawlers.”

“What’s wrong with administration?” asked Hugh. “It’s not my regular field, but I’m in it myself at the moment — organizing plans and people so as to minimize personal risks and take care of injuries when they do occur.”

“But that’s a sideline with you. You’re basically an explorer and observer — a researcher. I can’t do that because I didn’t start in time to learn enough, but I can still get into analysis and theoretical work. This telling whom what to do and when is trivial. Administrators are…” the translator emitted the no-equivalent-symbol sound, leaving Hugh and his wife uncertain just what the speaker thought of administration, though the context had provided some clue.

“It involves everyone here and everything we’re doing,” Hugh pointed out firmly though not quite indignantly. “No one at Pitville, not even the Habras, is in a normal environment; everyone outdoors has to have some sort of protection, whether working or…”

“True. But Spreadsheet-Thinker and I find questions of competence much less confusing than ones of motivation, even among members of her species and mine; and it seems to be what people want to do rather than what they do best that we have to consider most deeply. Neither of us understands that. A nice scientific paper would be a relief, for me at least.”

“You have Naxians in your office.”

“Knowing that someone is happy or unhappy about some part of what’s going on doesn’t by itself tell us what part. You use Naxians on general safety watch, I know, and still need to get more details when they report trouble. If that weren’t true you’d use only Naxians.”

“If I could get that many — and didn’t need flyers, too. But you’re right, in a way. What’s your main trouble? Or would you rather not say?”

“Personalities. Spreadsheet-Thinker has earned her name, and can deal better with such complexities, but I’m more of a scholar — a scientist, even — at heart, if that figure of speech means what I think it does. It’s so nice to be able to deal with variables one at a time. That’s — I’ll admit it to you, friend, but would rather you didn’t tell any Crotonites — why I was trying this ‘ski’ activity just now. I must admit i was cheating. I have automatic controls in this body; our nervous impulses and reactions are far too slow for this sort of thing, even in this gravity. After the first failure I was able to reset my autodriver to Handle the situation on the slope, but I would have had to find an excuse for not making the second run if you and your friends had not been here, Ted.”

“What if you had made it to the jump-off point and they hadn’t been here?” asked Janice.

“I prefer not to think about that.”

“You realize now that engineering design, as well as administration, involves considering many factors it once, I hope,” Hugh keyed. He knew the remark was less than tactful, but could see no way of squaring silence on the subject with his safety officer’s conscience.

“I do indeed.”

The Erthumoi smiled at each other, a gesture made meaningful by the transparent face shields of their armor.

“I hope, when your chance comes, you don’t find scientific reality too much of a shock, too.” Janice keyed, with some relief; had she been speaking, tact would have driven her to some effort to keep the laughter out of her voice.

“But I’ll just need to center on something that needs to be proved, like this question of whether the Habras really originated on Habranha. Just concentrating on that one thing! I hope that’s not a question you feel strongly about personally, Ted; I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’ve met people who consider origins a solved problem and for some reason resent the suggestion of alternative solutions.”