Hal Clement - Close to Critical

“Then maybe I shouldn’t have come, Teacher. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. My original plan for getting in touch with you again has already failed, so if you hadn’t come we’d be in even worse shape. All I meant was that we have some heavy planning to do before we’re out of this mess. You’d probably better get away for a few hours at least, while I think; there’s no point hi having you caught by Swift, too.”

“But how will I get back again? They have fire, now— for that matter, as soon as they come back they’ll know I’ve been here, and probably start tracking me. I’d probably still be in sight, even if I started now; it’s beginning to rain, and I can’t travel without a torch, and that will be visible for miles. I was expecting you to come with me right away.”

“I see your trouble, but don’t quite know what to do about it. It’s hard to believe that Swift won’t be back here in the next few minutes.” Fagin paused, as though in thought; Nick of course did not know that such pauses really meant a tense conference among several men a hundred and sixty thousand miles away. “Look, Nick. There’s a good deal of burnable material around, right?”

“Yes.”

“And there is only one path from the cliff top, and that a narrow cleft?”

“Yes, not counting the way around — a good four miles.”

“Hmph. I could wish it were longer. Do you think you can build a fire big enough to block the foot of that path for a while, so as to delay them while we get going? You’ll have to work fast; they must be coming back by now, I should think, unless they’re still looking for you on top.”

“I’ll try.” Nick could see that this was no time for theorizing. “Someone’s probably looked over the edge and seen me by now, but there’s nothing to lose. If I don’t catch up to you, head east-northeast until you reach the sea, then follow along its daytime shoreline until you meet the others. I’ll do what I can to interfere with Swift’s trackers; you’d better get going now.”

Nick didn’t wait for a reply; he was already racing toward the foot of the cliff trail, gathering fuel as he went. His torch was nearly gone, but he started a rough heap of wood a few yards inside the cleft, and managed to get it burning. Then he hunted around madly, tossing every bit of combustible matter he could find into the four-yard-wide crack.

A raindrop came squeezing its way down the gully and vanished as it neared the fire, but it was early enough in the evening for there still to be a good deal of oxygen in it. Nick was pleased; evidently no torch-bearing cave dwellers were yet on the path, or the drop would have been destroyed much sooner. That gave so much more time.

With the pile big enough to satisfy him, he set off along Fagin’s trail. Even Nick could follow it, a five-foot-wide track of flattened and crumbled vegetation, except where it led through hollows already filling with liquid water. He could have gone through these with his torch, since the liquid was still fairly safe to breathe, but he chose to detour around. Even so, he caught up with Fagin within a mile.

“Keep going,” he said. “I’m going to do a little trail erasing.” He applied his torch to a bush beside the trail, and to the crushed, brittle material on the track itself; then he started in a wide arc to the north, setting fire to every bush he passed. Eventually, a glowing belt of radiance extended from Fagin’s trail almost east of the cave village around to the track down which the robot had been brought from the north. Nick thought he could hear excited voices from the caves, but wasn’t sure. He raced northward at the top of his speed for another mile, and started another series of fires there. They should be visible from the cliff, too; and perhaps the cave dwellers would come out and search along the route to the old village rather than start tracking right away.

Then he raced back to intercept Fagin’s trail, shielding his torch with his body in the hope that its glow would not be seen from the cliff. He found the trail with little trouble, though Fagin was sensibly keeping to the valleys as much as possible, and finally caught up with the Teacher. Fagin heard his report, and approved.

“It’s probably the best you could have done,” he said. “I’ll be surprised if we get through the night without having company, though.”

“So will I,” admitted Nick.

In spite of this pessimism, the hours passed without any sign of pursuit. Nick’s higher speed allowed him to keep up with the robot, even though he had to detour puddles which the machine took in its stride. The raindrops grew clear, and correspondingly dangerous; puddles and lakes larger, deeper, and harder to avoid as the bottom of Tenebra’s atmosphere gradually underwent its nightly change in phase.

“Even with your staying on dry land and leaving such an open trail, they must be having trouble following by now,” remarked Fagin during one of the brief spells when they were together. “A lot of the places where you went must be well under water by now, and they can’t be boiling them off with torches at this hour; the water’s too clear to let them get away with it. I’m starting to feel a little happier about the whole situation.”

“I’m not,” said Nick.

“Why not?”

“The pools are getting very big, and some of the valleys ahead are long and deep. I remember the night before last there were some pretty big rivers emptying into the sea. If we meet one of those, and I don’t see how we can help it, we’re stuck.”

“On the contrary, that seems to me the best thing that could happen. Swift can’t follow through a river.”

“Neither can I.”

“Not under your own power. I can carry you, and it’s pretty safe; we haven’t met any creatures in sixteen years capable of living, or at least being active, in clear water— though I must admit I’ve always been expecting it.”

“There were some in the ocean.”

“That isn’t water, for the most part, except late at night. Anyway, I think we needn’t worry about ocean life. You’ve made me happier than I’ve been for some time; let’s look for one of these rivers.”

“All right. I hope you’re right.” Nick was accustomed enough to being knocked out by oxygen-free water, but somehow didn’t like the idea of being carted around like a sack in that state; If Fagin thought it was all right, though…

It looked for a while as though he needn’t have worried. With the common perversity of the inanimate, once a river was wanted, none could be found. They kept on their original course, knowing the futility of zigzagging over unknown ground, and got closer and closer to the sea; but they actually reached it, not too many hours before day, without finding a river.

They had reached the “shore” far south of the region where the others awaited them; Nick had selected their course so that there would be no question of which way to turn when they reached the coast. He had mapped enough to know what measuring uncertainties could mean.

Without hesitation, therefore, he directed Fagin to follow the “shore” to the left. They were, of course, far inland from the hill which Nick had planned to use to trap Swift, but that was the least of their troubles at the moment. The chief annoyance was the lack of a river; a second one, which made itself apparent an hour or so after they reached the sea, was the appearance behind them of a distinct glow of light. There was no question what it was; the sun just didn’t get that distinct, or even that bright.

“They’re gaining on us. I wonder how long my fires delayed them?” muttered Nick when the glow caught his eye. Fagin had not seen it yet, apparently, and Nick saw nothing to be gamed in calling his attention to it. He just looked that much more intensely for a river ahead.