Hal Clement - Noise

Wanaka then changed procedure. Fewer but longer tow lines were used, and the embryonic vessel was kept farther from the rest of the system. This was not too difficult when the wind more or less directly opposed the surface current, which it usually did. Otherwise, while the little craft still floated with keels horizontal, the high side of the developing deck sandwiched between them now caught a good deal of air. And made maneuvering very complex indeed.

This Mike could understand. What bewildered him was that at the next approach of a waterspout, ’Ao was ordered to swim to the tow and lash herself to it as solidly as she could—in fact, the captain went with her and supervised the process before rejoining Keo at the lines.

She gestured to Mike, who for the moment was free of duty, and ordered him in the hand language he now understood quite well: “Keep your eyes on her. If she’s swept away, tell Keo. Don’t waste time reporting to me.”

He nodded understanding and returned to the other hull, which offered both a higher viewpoint, since the cabin roof was no place to ride out a waterspout, and was also closer to the object of his attention.

He was just a little undecided. He would have conceded to anyone the importance of discipline in any sort of crew, but couldn’t help feeling that he himself should be more able physically to perform a rescue; the captain might technically be a better swimmer, but in the storm-lashed sea it looked as though muscle might be a greater need.

Demand for strength might explain why she should have ordered him to tell Keo first, rather than attempting rescue himself; no doubt there were routine procedures familiar to the sailors that Mike knew nothing about. His intentions wavered while Malolo and her attachments rocked and shivered in the turbulence around the spout.

It was quickly over, waterspouts traveling as they do, and no decision had to be made; ’Ao was still in sight and lashed in place when things quieted down. Wanaka immediately swam to the child and helped free her from the lashings, and they returned to the cabin together.

In another two or three minutes it was safe to doff helmets, and Mike looked for signs of her ordeal on the child’s face. He was astonished to find none visible around her mask; she seemed as perky as though she had enjoyed the ride.

It seemed very likely indeed that there was something else Mike didn’t know. He decided not to inquire what it might be; he was not yet emotionally convinced that almost the only silly questions are the ones not asked.

There was now a good deal of work for all; the spinning of everything in the waterspout had upset the sea-anchor control system—it was lucky that the oxygen leaf had not been deployed—and badly tangled the set of tow lines that had kept the child and her charge part of the system. The seedling, now more of a sapling, had indeed come much closer to the main hull than anyone had wanted; Mike actually remarked aloud to Keo how much better it would have been if they had managed to salvage more cordage from the diseased hull, and the other had merely nodded. This left Hoani wondering whether he had overshot being merely right and become blatantly obvious.

With the sea-anchor controls reestablished and Mike once more handling them, the other two adults—’Ao was in the cabin, to eat and sleep—left Hoani’s range of vision and attention, saying something about rearranging the tow system. When they came back more than an hour later, they were still talking but seemed dissatisfied.

In spite of this, the same general procedure was followed with the next unavoidable spout, and the next. There were no collisions on either occasion, but each time the captain and mate spent a while afterward trying to improve arrangements. Even Mike could see that they were getting even farther south. There was simply no quick way of judging the changing speed of the deep current.

Then several days passed with no real incidents. Spouts were seen, of course; a total lack of them in Kainui’s grossly unstable atmosphere would have been really noteworthy, but none came near enough to require action. Just possibly the adults became too relaxed; it was ’Ao who shouted the warning about another approaching menace and dived for her hull station without waiting for orders.

Wanaka followed as usual to make sure of child’s and doll’s lashings, and by the time she got back to Keo and the lines the Malolo -sea-anchor system was again out of control. Mike did not actually see the separation of their tow; he was almost pulled from station and lifelines by an especially violent jerk, had to glance momentarily around to find another grip, and when he looked up again could see nothing but seething water where seedling and child had been.

It took several seconds to convince himself that tow and rider had really disappeared, and more than a minute to make his way across to the cabin where captain and mate had just stopped working because the sea anchor had been disarranged again.

By this time Mike had no trouble getting his message across in Finger, which was fortunate because all helmets had to stay tight. The captain asked only three questions, and of course her facial expression could not be seen as she gestured.

“’Ao was still lashed to the ship when they disappeared?”

“As far as I know. I didn’t see the actual separation. I told you why. She was there only seconds before.”

But Wanaka didn’t seem to be thinking along whose-fault-was-it lines. She could not, Mike thought, possibly have blamed him for the loss of the tow, but his failure actually to see it go might be another matter.

“And her lashings seemed secure when you last did see?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“’Oloa, too?”

“Yes.”

The captain’s tension disappeared, as far as could be told with her helmet on.

“Perfect,” she gestured.

The gesture might, of course, have meant merely “Good,” or “All right,” or “Fine”; there was a fairly broad spectrum of possibilities. Mike’s confidence in the exact meaning was not yet very high. However, as he currently understood Finger, it had been very emphatic indeed, and he couldn’t see why.

He found himself almost on the point of asking questions, but there was no time. Wanaka was issuing orders. Also, he was feeling more and more as though he should already know some of the answers.

“Keo, surface the sails. Lucky they’re already out of drag mode. Mike, help me deploy the leaf; we might as well stock up on oxygen while we’re waiting, and it’ll keep us closer to the current.”

“Waiting? Shouldn’t we be looking for the kid—and the ship?” he added. He certainly didn’t know those answers.

“No. They’ll have to find us, which means we’ll have to stay as nearly right here as possible. Lucky the storm’s passing. Surface current will be about the only variable they’ll have to allow for.”

“They?” The word had seemed reasonable when child and ship had been the subject; now it sounded odd. However, Wanaka’s hands were too busy with the roll of leaf-equivalent to allow her to answer, and her face was not visible at the moment. She might have made a slip of the finger, no doubt; the gloves of the sound armor were not heavily padded, but were hard-shelled, exquisitely jointed to permit any finger movement, and depended on impedance mismatch rather than padding to keep dangerous noises out. They permitted Finger communication easily. Mike felt a distinct suspicion that she had deliberately given him meaningful information, possibly to see whether he’d wind up more or less confused than before.

Of course, the plural might still have included the ship, but that made two questions rather than one. He glanced at where Keo had been, but the mate was already in the sea carrying out his orders. Hoani felt like a student who had just been handed a surprise quiz with the question in an unfamiliar language. He didn’t even have time to think; helping pay out the long ribbon of pseudolife without harming it took too much of his attention. So did the the constant reminder that the storm had not completely passed, that there were plenty of ordinary waterspouts in sight, and that the hull was no steadier than usual.