Hal Clement - Fossil

“How about the biological structure itself? Was it a reasonable one for an ancestral Habra?”

“I couldn’t say, except to point out that one dot on a graph — or two, if you count the present species— don’t go for much. McEachern didn’t seem very startled by anything, but of course he hasn’t had much time with it yet. The mere fact that it was an early attempt to grow a Habra body would have given something reasonable along that line, I’d guess.”

“Then we have only the Erthuma’s story?” Barrar was plainly disappointed. Hugh smiled rather grimly.

“No. There’s one other fact. According to the claim, the item was found at a depth of — I forget just how many kilometers, but it was far below the depth at which Ice I would change to the distinctly denser Ice III. I don’t know how the collection was done, but I don’t see how the body could have been brought down to normal pressure without a lot of cell damage as the ice changed back, or for that matter during the original compression. There’s no evidence of such damage. Its ice had never changed phase.”

“But wouldn’t there have been damage anyway as it froze originally? Liquid water expands as it forms Ice I. That’s why freezing is so bad for most life forms.”

“Habras, like Crotonites, have alcohols in their blood which inhibit crystallization, Jan says. You’ll really have to have a talk with McEachern, though, if you want enough details for a meaningful paper.”

“But Respected Opinion McEachern would expect…”

“Academic credit. So does Janice. We’re landing. We’ll have to show you the way. Shefcheeshee has a setup down at the port, here — a tank with microphones.”

Barrar showed no sign of being disgruntled either by Hugh’s last statement about his wife, or by the rather pointed change of subject, but of course the Erthuma couldn’t tell. S’Nash might be getting a real kick from the reaction, he suspected. Which is to he found out. He exchanged glances with Janice, who gave a half smile and nodded. It didn’t matter that S’Nash must know their feelings; it shouldn’t even matter, in a few minutes, if it/he could actually read their minds.

The Habras were not very real estate conscious except when they had to relocate people from the melting side of the Iris, and Shefcheeshee had apparently met with no objection when he turned the top of a local hill into a lecture hall, though “hall” was hardly an appropriate term; the Cephallonian had never seriously considered putting a roof over his winged audience, the Erthumoi were sure. The ice was bare, smooth, and by nature or art shaped like half a stadium bowl focusing on a level area originally at the edge of the sea. New icebergs had changed this last fact, but the Habras maintained the open water of their port behind his lecture platform. The Cephallonian had arranged to place meter-square patches of roughened polymer sheeting, separated by narrower lanes of bare ice, over most of the sloping surface to provide traction.

There were a few enclosed cubicles, also of clear polymer, around the upper edge of the bowl, for attendees who were uncomfortable in Habranhan atmosphere or temperature and preferred not to wear armor too long at a time. Hugh and Janice had learned about these earlier, and made them part of their plan; what they wanted to do would be discourteous if the general audience could hear them. They guided Barrar to one of the cubicles and entered, watching with interest while S’Nash decided, after visible hesitation, to remain outside.

There was a bench, not specifically designed for Erthumoi but usable, and the two sat down. Barrar remained standing in his mechanical walker.

There was already a large crowd, mostly natives, and it was possible to turn up translator receivers again without hearing only a hopeless blur of incomprehensible overload noise. The Habras, Janice noticed, were quite willing to press side by side, wings folded, with far too little space around most of them to allow takeoff; the few Crotonites, predictably, remained near the upper edges of the bowl and made sure they could spread their wings. Erthumoi, Locrians, and Naxians were scattered through the area, indifferent to flight opportunity. Janice nudged Hugh without speaking; her hypothesis had made another correct prediction. One might have thought that the snakelike part of the audience would have wanted to gather at the front, where they could hear and especially see the speaker more easily, since there were no facilities for them to elevate themselves above the floor anywhere in the bowl. They did not seem to be doing this.

Janice now strongly suspected that it was not just the speaker they would want to watch. Both Erthumoi looked around more closely, but couldn’t be certain that there was any real concentration of serpentine bodies around Crotonites The Naxians were too hard to see in the crowd.

The Erthumoi tensed as Shefcheeshee leaped far out of the water into the huge, transparent tank which formed the speaker’s rostrum, and began his talk without preamble.

It was as though he were addressing a class rather than delivering an oration. A speaker in the booth transmitted his sounds faithfully enough for the translators. He spoke for some time of general Habran prehistory, and Barrar began to grow impatient, judging by the uneasy motions of his walker and its handlers. This was nothing new — Hugh felt he could almost read the Samian’s mind — and nothing he could use.

Then Shefcheeshee began an explanation of the artificial intelligence which was guiding the bottom search and identifying, selecting, and analyzing the finds, and the Samian froze. Shocked? Revolted? If the speaker could stomach the subject, why couldn’t a would-be scholar? This time Hugh was more amused, familiar as he was with the attitudes of the Other Five.

Janice nudged her husband again. There were four — no, five snakelike forms within a meter or two of their booth, every one staring at Ged Barrar. As she started to form a triumphant grin, one of them shifted its gaze to her; as the implication of that change in attention struck both Erthumoi, the other Naxians also turned their eyes on the pair.

Hugh expected them to turn away again after a moment, to avoid betraying themselves, but Janice had a different picture. A clearer one, she thought. Yes, they had sensed her feeling of triumph; no, they didn’t — they couldn’t, surely — realize its cause. She basked happily in the glow that any scientist feels when an infant hypothesis, nurtured lovingly for weeks and fed carefully with observations, speaks its first words — makes one of its earliest predictions. She knew, of course, that the feeling couldn’t last long; theories this young were usually far too tender. It would be hurt by something very soon, and need help. Still, the gold-brown Naxian optics remained fixed on her, and she could enjoy that while it lasted.

That wasn’t long. The glow vanished as it occurred to her to wonder what they might do to convince her they had only emotion sensing powers, and were not mind readers….

It had been wonderful while it lasted, but she was back on the ground. She glanced once more at the watchers. Their eyes were still on her. Maybe they were reading her thoughts — no. She brought herself up sharply. That may not be impossible, but don’t worry about it; just file it as something to devise a test for at some handier time.

Shefcheeshee was still speaking. Ged Barrar was still listening. The subject was now more speculative, on why no fossils recognizable as azide-chemistry organisms had been found at the sea bottom. Hugh muttered his own notion, expressed earlier by Bill and, apparently, already widely held.