Hal Clement - Close to Critical

“Swift is going to start back for the caves right away; he says he’ll use fire on you if you don’t go with him. Can you stand that?”

There was a little more than the usual hesitation. No one had ever measured the temperature of a Tenebran fire, and the man on watch was not enough of a physicist to hazard a guess from its radiation output. The main consideration in his mind was the cost of the robot.

“No,” he answered. “I’ll go along with him.”

“What shall we do?”

Raeker’s order for the villagers to stay put was one thing he had not mentioned to his relief; he had expected to be back on duty long before the start of the journey. The relief did the best he could under the circumstances.

“Use your own judgment. They won’t hurt me; I’ll get in touch with you again later.”

“All right.” Nick carefully refrained from reminding the Teacher of his earlier command; he liked the new one much better. He watched in silence as the invaders, under Swift’s orders, collected what torches they could from the nearly spent fires. Then they clustered around the Teacher, leaving an opening in the crowd on the side they wished him to go. It was all done without words, but the meaning was plain enough. The robot swung around on its treads and headed south, the cave dwellers swarming after it.

Nick spent only a few moments wondering whether they’d find more torch wood before using up what they had. He had turned his mind to other matters even before the cavalcade was out of sight.

He had been given a free hand. Very well, he still felt that leaving the village was best; they would do so as soon as possible. Of course, it wouldn’t be possible for a few days, until everyone was able to travel again, but the tune could be spent in planning. There was certainly the question of where to go, and the corollary one of how to get there—Nick began to realize with a shock just what leaving the village, with its lifetime accumulation of property and equipment, would mean—and how to get back in touch with Fagin when the move was accomplished. It was easy to tell oneself that the Teacher could always find them wherever they went; but Nick was mature enough to doubt the omniscience of anyone, including the robot. That meant, then, three problems to solve. Since Nick had no desire to resemble Swift in any way, he postponed solving them until the others would be awake and able to help in the discussion.

The fire lasted until morning, but only just, and only by virtue of Nick’s running around the hut rapidly on a number of occasions to stir oxygen into an oncoming mass of dead steam. He got very little sleep after the last of the outer fires went, and that was pretty early hi the night.

Morning brought no relief. The first task normally accomplished was to put a guard on the village herd, which was penned in a hollow near the village. The depression remained full of water a little later than the surrounding country, so the “cattle” were normally safe from predators until the guards could arrive; but at the moment there simply weren’t enough people in condition to guard both herd and village. They suffered several losses that morning as a result, until Nick could round up the reviving creatures by himself and herd them into the village. Then there was the problem of firewood for the next night; he had told the absolute truth to Swift in that respect. Someone had to get it. There was no choice but for the still battered Jim and Nancy to do the job together, dragging as best they could the cart on which they piled their fuel. They had never succeeded in training their cattle to pull the conveyance; the creatures stubbornly refused to budge under any sort of load.

By the second day, most of the others were on their feet if not at full efficiency, and matters were considerably easier. A consultation was held that morning, in which Nick proposed and defended vigorously the notion that they move to the viciously rough country he had crossed during his flight from the cave village. His chief point was the presence of so many spots which could only be approached from a single, narrow point, like a canyon or ridge, and could therefore be defended effectively by a small force. It was Nancy who answered the suggestion.

“I’m not sure that’s a very good plan,” she said. “In the first place, we don’t know that any of the places you describe will still be that way when we get there.” A quake lent emphasis and support to her words.

“What if they aren’t?” retorted Nick. “There will always be others. I wasn’t suggesting any of the specific spots I described, only the general area.”

“But how is Fagin to find us? Supposing one of us does get to the cave village and get a message to him, how are we to describe the way to him? We’d have to guide him directly, which would probably interfere with his own plans—you judged, and I think rightly, that he is planning to take advantage of his ability to travel at night without fire.”

Nick felt a very human surge of annoyance at this opposition, but remembered Swift in time to keep from yielding to it. He didn’t want to be compared with that savage in anyone’s mind, he told himself; besides, there was something to what Nancy was saying, now that he really gave his mind to it.

“What sort of place would you suggest?” he asked.

“You’re right about getting back in touch with Fagin, but I certainly can’t think of any place which we will ever defend as easily as those canyons in the west.”

“It seems to me that Fagin was right when he said I was foolish to fight Swift’s people at all,” returned Nancy quietly. “I was not thinking of defense; if we have to defend ourselves, we’re already out of luck, I fear. What I had in mind was the sea.”

“What?”

“You know. You helped map it. Off to the east there’s a body of water that isn’t water—at least, it doesn’t dry up entirely during the daytime. I don’t remember just what Fagin called it when we reported it to him-—”

“He said he supposed it was mostly sulphuric acid, whatever that is, but he didn’t know how to make sure,” interjected the still crippled Dorothy.

“—Whatever it is, it stays there, and if we’re on the edge of it Fagin can’t help finding us if he simply travels along its border. Probably he can travel in it for a distance, too, so the cave people can’t track him.” A hum of approving surprise greeted this notion, and after a few moments of thought Nick gestured agreement.

“All right,” he said. “If no one has other ideas, we’ll move to the edge of the sea; we can settle on the exact spot after we get there and have looked around. It’s a year or two since we mapped the place, and I don’t suppose we could trust information that old.

“The next problem is getting there. We’ll have to decide how much we can take from the village here, and how we can carry it. I suppose we can start with the wood cart, but I’ll bet there are places we won’t be able to move it across. No matter how we figure it, there’s a lot we’ll have to leave behind.

“Then, finally, there’s the matter of getting a message to Fagin. That we can leave until we’re settled; there’s no point telling him where we are before we know.

“I hope we can travel by tomorrow; in the meantime, the second question is the one to work on. Anyone who has more ideas, let’s hear them at any time.” They dispersed, each to the tasks of which he was capable.

Jim and Nancy were practically whole again, and were now looking after the cattle. There had been no further losses since they had been able to take over the job. Dorothy was at the wagon, with all the articles they hoped to take stacked around her, arranging and rearranging them in the vehicle. No matter how she packed them, there was more outside than in, and nearly constant discussion and even argument was going on between her and the other members of the group. Each wanted his own belongings to go and it took a good deal of talk to convince some of them that since everything couldn’t be taken the losses should be shared.