Hal Clement: Fossil

“I think you miss the main point of science,” Hugh cut in.

“But isn’t science trying to prove something?” asked Ted. Janice wondered if he were evading the administrator’s implied question; this didn’t occur to her husband. If it did to the Samian, he let the point lie.

“Ideally, no, though things are seldom ideal,” answered Barrar, rather to the Erthumoi’s surprise. “If you have a preference, something you really want to prove, there’s a tendency to notice and remember the data supporting that preference — I’ve worked with every one of the Six Races, and that’s true of all of us. If it doesn’t apply to your own kind, Ted, you have the potential of becoming the most objective scientists in the Galaxy.”

Not even the Erthumoi had the open-mindedness or the courtesy to add, “if you aren’t already,” to the Samian’s statement.

“What do you prefer?” asked another of the Habras.

“I’m lucky. Right now I simply want a nice, definite, unambiguous answer to the Pit project, so my administrative work here will count as successful.” Hugh wondered fleetingly if Barrar might not be happier in the long run if he kept his illusions and hopes by remaining an administrator, but said nothing as the Samian went on. “Even that has its risks; if no firm answer is possible from the data we find, I could catch myself giving extra weight to some items to make their meaning more definite than it should be. That’s why I’m trying to keep track of all the other work of this sort being done on Habranha.”

“Didn’t know there was any,” remarked Hugh.

“Oh, yes. I’ll summarize it for you if we both ever have time.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be lecturing. You’ve asked, I’ve answered. The live problem is the Spreadsheet-Thinker’s and mine and our staff’s. I must get back to work. I — well…”

“One of us will carry you,” Ted hastily put in. “I assume you have other bodies at the quarters.”

“Yes, of course. This one was merely improvised to let me try out this Erthumoi amusement for official and, er, other reasons. I fear I have not yet learned all I should about it. I will repair the structure and try again. I think I can travel on the three remaining appendages, if one of you will have the kindness to bring the lost one back to the Residence. I will want to examine it to learn why it proved detective. Go on skiing, Hugh and Janice, and see if you can invent some reasonably risky game for the Habras, too. It does take the mind off one’s regular troubles, I find. You shouldn’t have to be working to protect Erthumoi skeletons, even artificial ones like this, all the time, Ted. How about something like Cephallonian netball — in the liquid air of the Pits?” Barrar began to hobble away, Erthumoi and Habras watching silently. Hugh thought he could see why no major tripodal life-form was known.

The Samian was almost out of sight when one of the natives spoke.

“There are some bad plants along his way. I’d better watch.”

“All right, Walt,” agreed Hugh. “He may want help in his job, but we still have ours. Jan, we have time for another couple of jumps. Ted and Jimbo, are both staying, or is one enough?”

“Both. One might have to go for additional help while the first patches armor. I don’t think it’s very likely; you’re both pretty good…”

“It’s likelier now. I never knew — we never knew you were on watch here. Now we’re more apt to get careless or take chances.”

“Shouldn’t we have told you? Or should we have told you at the beginning? We thought you might have resented it. The Crotonites said you would.”

‘Technically, you should have, since I’m your boss. Actually, I like your taking responsibility yourselves. I suppose that makes me a bad administrator, too. The only one really likely to be bothered is Spreadsheet-Thinker. She’d probably resent not knowing what’s going on at any level of the operation. Let’s stop talking for a while; my hand’s getting cramped. C’mon, Jan. You first.”

Actually, the jumps were delayed for a few minutes by a passing snow squall, and the couple was able to take only one more each. There was further talk with the Habras while they waited, Janice this time doing most of the code work. By common consent Barrar’s problems were avoided; most of the debate was about finding better plants to stabilize the partly artificial hill on which the ski jump had been built. None of the natives was a botanist, but all Habras Hugh and Janice had met so far were imaginative and widely informed. This, of course, could have been observational selection, considering the sort of work the Erthumoi were doing on the little world; both were too experienced to assume that all members of any species were alike enough to be predictable.

All examined the slopes and agreed that something with still longer and stronger roots would help if it could be found. The winds, while chaotic in detail even here on the dark side, had a general trend toward the sunward hemisphere near the ground. The snow hills behaved enough like sand dunes to travel slowly in the same general direction. Temperature was sometimes so low that even considerable pressure failed to weld water-ice crystals together, though sometimes the welding did occur and dunes graduated to the status of hills. The fact that a rink was very hard to keep free of drifts was only one reason why skiing was more practical than skating on Habranha’s Solid Ocean. Water is inherently a most peculiar substance; Janice and her husband had always known this after a fashion, but Habranha had really driven the fact home to them.

The natives mentioned that many plants could be identified by smell as well as appearance. The Erthumoi would have liked to check this, if their armor had not been full of diving fluid; a brief exposure to the local atmosphere was harmless, as they had long ago found. Its total surface pressure was nearly four times their normal, but it was relatively chemically safe. The oxygen partial pressure was only about a third of a bar, and the ammonia and hydrogen cyanide were significant only in Habranha’s warmer regions where the gases were less soluble in water. They were already living at local pressure, since flexible environment armor was fairly comfortable and actually resisting the pressure to be expected when the Pit project was farther along would be impractical. Their use of diving fluid had been a concession to this fact from the beginning.

“I guess we’ll go in now, Ted,” keyed Janice ash>er husband came to a halt beside her. “Were you on duty just because of us, or do you expect others on the slope?”

“If there are others, they’ll almost certainly be Erthumoi. One of us will be enough until someone dually arrives. It’s Jimbo’s turn to stay, and he’ll all us if we’re needed. Walt and I will take a swing over the Pits.”

“But you can’t do anything there. Those suits won’t do any good at liquid air temperatures, will hey?”

“No, but we can get a look — pardon the word, I’m talking about our electric field sense — at what’s happening. I do like to know when something’s been around.”

“Did that wing of three days ago bother you?” keyed Janice. “We have no idea how you feel about your dead, and have been rather afraid to ask. It’s a touchy subject with many people.”

“If the owner can be identified, we’ll want to take steps. How far down was it? Have you learned its age? What really puzzled most of us was how it got separated. The idea of losing a wing is-is hard to express in words, and all the ones I can think of are negative.”

“Couldn’t a really violent storm have done it?” asked Hugh.

“I’ve never experienced or imagined one that could, but I suppose that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I admit I don’t like to think about that, either, though I’ve faced my share of storms. How about the age?”