Hal Clement - Close to Critical

Nor could he find, except by guesswork, the nature of the plan that was being executed before the robot’s eyes.

Hunting parties—judging from their armament—were sent out in great numbers, each one accompanied by one of Fagin’s pupils with his axe. The raft made trips to the bathyscaphe, and Swift and several others examined its surface with great care; Easy seemed to be talking to them while this went on, but Raeker and his companions couldn’t hear what she said. The natives were greatly interested in the hot area at the top of the vessel, where its refrigerators pumped back overboard the calories they had drawn from the living quarters; they started to climb up the hull, by means of the numerous handholds, to examine this more closely. This act, since the craft was circular in cross section and just barely not floating, started the whole vessel rolling toward the raft; the climbers dropped back hastily. One of them fell into the lake, lost consciousness before he could grasp the paddles thrust down to him, and had to be shoved clumsily into shallow oleum by his fellows lying on the raft above him. This brought the raft itself closer to the robot, and Raeker was able to hear Nick remark to Betsey, “This will save a lot of time. If the teachers inside don’t mind, we can roll that thing over here where we can work on it.”

“We may do it whether they mind or not, if Swift gets the idea,” was the reply. “We’d better ask in English first.”

“Right. Let’s get back out there.” The two slid the raft back into the pool and paddled back toward the stranded vessel. This time Raeker knew what the conversation was about even though he couldn’t hear it, and he knew how it canie out—he could see Easy nod her head in assent. It was several seconds before a frightening thought struck him, and made him call the engineering department.

“Will turning that bathyscaphe over do any harm?” he asked without preamble. “The natives are planning to roll it out of that pool.”

The men at the other end exchanged glances, and then shrugged at each other.

“Not as far as I can think at the moment,” one of them said. “The ship was designed to fly, and it was assumed that inverted flight might be necessary. The kids may be bumped around a bit, and anything they’ve left loose will tumble, but nothing vital should suffer.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Raeker said feelingly, and turned back to his screens. The raft was on its way back to shore, and Nick was calling something to Swift. Raeker could catch only a word or two, since the native language was being used, but he could tell easily enough what was being discussed. Swift got aboard as soon as the raft reached wading depth, loading it to capacity. Back at the bathyscaphe, he and Betsey seized the handholds on the hull and began carefully to climb, Nick staying on the raft to keep it out of the way. Raeker expected some more accidents, but the climbers showed surprising skill and coordination, keeping just above the liquid surface as the ship slowly rocked toward them. It was lucky that the handholds extended all over the hull; Raeker was sure they hadn’t checked this point before starting their stunt.

A quarter turn brough the hot “exhaust area” into contact with the pool, and set the oleum bubbling furiously— or as close to bubbling as anything could come under Tenebra’s atmospheric pressure. There was enough disturbance to attract the attention of the natives on the ship, but not to be visible from shore.

Two full rolls brought her to wading depth, and robbed her of enough buoyancy to make another climber necessary. Three turns brought her right side up at the shore line. A slight complication arose when the climbers dropped off and she started to roll back, and for the first time Raeker was able to make himself heard and listened to; he gave some rapid advice about placing chocks, which Nick heeded. With the hull stable and the children staring out at the robot a few yards away, Raeker thought he might learn what was going on, and he used the machine’s speaker.

“Hello, Easy. We’re finally together.”

“Hello, Doctor. Yes, your people are here. I thought we’d be able to do without them, but they’ve been a big help. Are you staying to watch the rest?”

The question startled the biologist, to put it mildly.

“Staying? We’re just starting to work. I’ll call the engineers and have them listen in while I explain the electrolysis circuits to Nick and the others; they’d be here now, only I didn’t expect the ship to be available quite so quickly. We’ll find whatever wires are corroded or disconnected, and—” Easy must have started talking before he got that far, but the transmission lag delayed his hearing her interruption.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I’d rather not have Nick fooling with the ship’s wiring. I don’t understand it myself, and I don’t see how he possibly can keep from making mistakes. We’re going up shortly, anyway, so please don’t let him get into any of those inspection ports, if they’re really open.” The girl spoke as pleasantly as ever, but there was a note of firmness which no human being who heard her could mistake. Raeker was surprised, and then indignant.

“What do you mean, you’d ‘rather not’ have Nick work? Who else can? If you think he’s ignorant of electricity, what good will it do for you to take over—or Swift? This plan has been under way for weeks, and you can’t—”

“I don’t care how long it’s been organized, and I can” replied the girl, still politely. “Swift will do what I ask, and Nick will do what Swift orders. We’re going to try Swift’s idea first; I’m sure it will work, but if it doesn’t perhaps we’ll think about yours again.”

Raeker looked around helplessly; the kid was right. There was no way in the universe for him to enforce his will. Maybe her father—no; Rich was listening in the communication room, and the relay screen showed something like an expression of satisfaction on his face. The biologist surrendered.

“All right, Easy. Will you tell me what this plan of Swift’s is? And how, if you don’t trust me and Nick, you can possibly consider an ignorant savage like one of these cave dwellers worth listening to?”

“Your scientific friends do,” Easy replied pointedly. “If I tell you, ’Mina’s father will hear, and he’ll start thinking of things wrong with it, and that’ll get Dad worried. You just watch; it won’t be long now.”

“How does your young friend feel about not telling his father?”

“He doesn’t mind, do you, ’Mina?”

“No,” piped the young Drommian. “Dad told me to do what Easy said, and besides, he was rude to her. We’ll show him!”

Raeker raised his eyebrows at this, and somehow felt a little happier about the whole matter. If someone was going to make a fool of Aminadabarlee…

And then Swift’s plan became perfectly obvious. A group of hunters reappeared, towing among them the helpless form of a floater. The dangerous tentacles of the creature had been removed—it was obvious now why an axeman had accompanied each group—and enough of its gas cells punctured so that it could be held down; but some were still intact, and their intended use could easily be seen.

The hydrogen cells of the bathyscaphe possessed, naturally, pressure-equalizing vents on the lower side of the hull. While these vents opened into the cells on the wrong side of the plastic membrane designed to prevent hydrogen and air from mixing, the other side also had a plastic tube extending down to the same vent, for relief if too much electrolytic hydrogen was run into the cell. This tube was normally held shut, or rather flat, by outside pressure; but it was perfectly possible to push another tube into it from outside, and run gas or liquid into the compartment. This the natives proceeded to do; Raeker wasn’t sure of the nature of the tube, but there was nothing surprising in their being able to improvise one. There must have been a good deal of gas wasted in the transfer process, but this didn’t seem to bother anyone. There were, after all, plenty of floaters.