Hal Clement - Fossil

There was certainly nothing to be done. There seemed nothing to say. The three approached the door, not at all hastily.

Ten meters away, Hugh remarked, “It would have been handy if one of us were a Locrian. Why didn’t I bring Plant-Biologist along?” There seemed no answer to this, either, and neither of his companions attempted one. They stopped some five meters from the building, and examined the door as carefully as they could from that distance. It showed no peculiarities, and they started forward again.

They failed to reach it.

They were still three or four meters away when the portal opened and three beings emerged.

Two were Erthumoi, neither of whom Hugh had ever to his knowledge seen before, one apparently female, the other a male a head taller than Hugh himself.

The remaining person looked like a slab of leather, supported by a mechanism resembling a headless human skeleton, with the Samian body ensconced in the rib cage. Hugh thought of the report about the truck users which he had received from the seaport what seemed like months ago, rather than ten or twelve Common Days. He tried some spreadsheet thinking of his own, without marked success. He rather expected to see a fourth figure emerge from the still open door, but none had appeared by the time the three were confronting the newcomers from less than two meters away.

Rekchellet, too, had his expectations.

“Where’s Ennissee?” he hissed. “I need words with him.”

“Not here,” came the answer in Samian tones. “We are very glad of your arrival, Hugh. Our communication equipment was in the mole, which for some reason developed power plant trouble, and we have no way of calling for transportation. You must have been close enough to see the explosion. We were greatly worried; we don’t expect Ennissee back for nearly a year, and while the resources of this site should keep us alive, we would all be most uncomfortable. We would be grateful if you could transport us to Pitville.”

“You expect Ennissee back in a year?” Rekchellet asked the question; Hugh was still filling spaces in his mental chart.

“About that. He departed recently, leaving me in charge.”

“Where did he go?”

“To the Naxian biological station. He learned very recently, we understand, that they can provide treatment for injuries he suffered some time ago, and for which he had been using rather unsatisfactory prosthetic equipment.”

Hugh forestalled a second explosion.

It was less difficult than he expected; Rekchellet’s rage subsided almost at once to a cold, controlled fury which held S’Nash’s full and possibly admiring attention. All Hugh really had to say was, “He’ll have a hard time getting away from those growth tanks, won’t he?”

The Crotonite gave the wing-flip equivalent of a nod.

“And when he does, it will be nice that he has no more handicaps. I can meet him in the air.” He relaxed visibly, and Hugh was about to resume courtesies with the Samian who had been speaking, when S’Nash joined the conversation.

“It’s a little surprising to find you this far from Pitville, Ged.” The Erthuma looked down at the Naxian, then up again at the occupant of the skeletonlike walker. The other human figures remained silent, giving no sign they were following the conversation; Hugh recalled the unfamiliar tech translator modules which had been found in the truck, and wondered which if either of them was indeed from the home planet he himself had never seen. There was nothing about either person to attract special attention.

His curiosity was brief, as S’Nash’s words got through to his consciousness. Ged? Barrar couldn’t be out here. The walker looked like his, of course, though Hugh could never have sworn to all the details of the machine, and one Samian looked as much like an excessively thick steak as another. But Ged Barrar must be back at Pitville, making sure that the various details envisioned by Spreadsheet-Thinker were actually occurring as the Locrian decided they should. He was the administrator’s main connection with reality, or had presented that image. But this one had addressed him by name, he suddenly realized, and its next words removed any doubt.

“The various contingency plans feed back very nicely into the main program, and it has been some time since I have had to devote much attention to Pitville — even with Hugh’s conscience and curiosity operating,” the Samian answered calmly.

“It is you!” Hugh muttered.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry if it surprises you, but I did mention that I had other interests.”

“Not that you were working on them. How does this connect? More important, did you know what was happening to Rekchellet?”

“Not until almost too late. I’m very sorry about that. Ennissee has been useful, but I’m afraid I didn’t fully understand what his injury had done to him. I certainly never supposed that he would only submit himself to Naxian treatment, tempting as it was, until after a — uh — test. It was foolish of me, because I do have some idea of what flying means to your people, Rekchellet. Since he could fly, however, I underestimated his — well, general bitterness.”

Beside Hugh S’Nash stirred briefly. There was no way for the Erthuma to tell whether Barrar perceived this or not. After a moment, the Naxian spoke up.

“I told you myself.”

“So you did. I still underestimated. Perhaps no one but another Crotonite, or perhaps a Habra, and now that I think of it, a Naxian. can really appreciate what a threat or injury to its wings would mean to someone who flies naturally. If you recall, I had already deduced that you have been playing that addictive Naxian game which involves what I can only describe in language as ‘composing emotional tunes’ out of the readings you obtain from non-Naxians, and therefore I had reason to doubt your objectivity. If you had actually told Hugh and Janice what you do for amusement when they asked you a year Of so ago, I might have felt otherwise.”

Hugh wondered how the Samian had known about that bit of conversation, but failed to pursue the thought as S’Nash gave its/his answer.

“It’s not exactly a game; it’s normal behavior. And it’s not just with aliens, though you’re a lot less boring than my own people, I admit,” his tones flowed calmly from Hugh’s translator.

Several frames in the Erthuma’s mental spreadsheet filled themselves simultaneously.

Barrar resolved the Erthuma’s unuttered wonder.

“S’Nash told me about that question, Hugh, for reasons of its/his own which I understand fairly well. I assure you I wasn’t eavesdropping. Please come inside, now; I have a request. Mahere, Jayree, and I do need transportation, but not just for ourselves. There are things I very much want you to take to Janice so that she can examine and date them. I’d stay here myself rather than have them left.”

The Samian turned back to the building. He said nothing to his Erthumoi companions, but they followed him. Hugh, Rekchellet, and S’Nash, after a brief hesitation on the Naxian’s part, trailed them inside.

There was no air lock; the whole interior was under Habranhan conditions. Its only furnishings were benches and tables, nearly all carrying instruments and tools and specimens. The largest work surface bore a block of ice, and both Hugh and Rekchellet had an inkling of what they were about to see. They were almost right.

It was not a complete Habra body this time, just a portion of thorax, with much of the head and two right wings attached. Even the Erthuma and Crotonite could see that there were differences between this body and the natives they knew; the head was narrower, the remaining eyes much larger. The wings were much shorter than was usual on the natives they had seen, leading to the speculation that this being might have been smaller or at least lighter than they. Hugh could understand Ged’s interest; this had to be a key find in Habranhan prehistory, and a proper description of it would ensure anyone a reputation.