Hal Clement - Noise

This involved a trip across the ice for several hundred meters to a tunnel opening in the side of a hummock; through an air lock much more than large enough to take all the group at once; more tunnel to an area where several dozen people of both sexes and a wide spectrum of age staffed desks and tables—evidently a message and general information center, rather than a place for checking in from and out to the surface, Wanaka noted with some relief; and finally along a nottoo-complex set of smaller tunnels, still walled with the ice-coral growth, to Hinemoa’s home.

The party lasted there until the hostess pointed out that the newcomers should be shown their quarters and given a chance to sleep if they wished. None of the children argued.

Eru, however, promptly asked whether ’Ao could stay at their own home, and Wanaka, after a moment’s thought, approved. Then she added that the child should at least come to see where her shipmates were staying and make sure she could find them if she had to. Eru came along, with the result that ’Ao got only a few words across to Keo in a moment when she was asking him to keep the doll for her. He declined on grounds that an adult male with a doll would be suspicious behavior. She didn’t argue.

“Piru” was her important word. Then the other three were left alone, and Keo reported.

“Gold!” exclaimed Wanaka. “What use is that to anyone?”

Mike answered with a single word.

“Chemical.”

Wanaka pounced. “Chemical, as in seed design?”

“Sure. All sorts of atoms can turn out to be good catalysts or coenzymes, especially heavies.”

“Of course. I should have remembered that. I’m going to hold those traders up tomorrow—no, I’m not, either.”

“Why not?” the two men asked simultaneously.

“These Aorangi folks may not be pirates, but if they’ve found a use for lots of gold, important enough to justify designing a special fish to collect it, they may want to keep it to themselves for a while. Of course you can’t keep knowledge from spreading, but controlling the only source of a key material is something else. We could wind up here as firmly invited guests. I’ve already mentioned selling only part of the load here, and if they have a good reason for wanting to corner the gold supply then ’Ao might wind up having to look for a husband right here in thirty-five or forty years, and we’d be even longer seeing our own kid again, if we ever did.”

“And any big economic reason is a good one,” Mike interjected.

“Of course. And it would be as bad or even worse for you. I can’t see anyone even from offworld spending a single pod of iron looking for a missing Earth native who most probably had gotten himself lost at sea. Especially not on this planet. I suppose a world only half covered by a couple of kilometers of ocean would be a different matter.”

“I wouldn’t count on that, especially if that ocean had sharks. That’s still an awful lot of water and a lot more under water. So what do we do, Captain?”

“We get out of here, preferably long enough before they spot us and can launch a ship so we can get out of sight in the haze. There are seven other ships on that lake, or dock, or whatever we should call it. I don’t see how we get out of there alone, regardless of how one does get out, and we don’t know how fast any of them can sail—at least, we don’t know how much faster than we any of them can. Ideas in order, gentlemen, preferably before sunrise tomorrow when I’m supposed to start auctioning something I’m not supposed to know the name or nature of. I’m as likely to make a word slip there as I was afraid Mike would a little while ago.

“Fellow brains, all of you hoist sail and set course on any bearing that seems good to you. Pardon the mixed metaphor.”

“I s’pose they’ll be watching us all night,” Keo suggested.

“I would in their place.” She smiled. “You and Mike better relieve their minds. Go outside now and look around the city; get lost if you want, it’ll help our reputation. You’re the ones most likely to do that, I hope they’ll think. Get some idea of population, tunnel complexity, and how noticeable you seem to be. I’m afraid we can guess that already, for Mike. If either of you gets an idea, don’t come in together. Separating would be a good idea anyway; you’re more likely to get lost, and it’ll look less as though you’re doing something specific or underhanded together. Wear your armor. See if they’ll fuss about your going outside, and if they don’t, take a look to make sure there’s really no watch on any of those ships. If there isn’t, fine. If there is, we’ll be even surer that our hostess was lying; go and talk to the watches. Try to make sure Keo was right about the ships themselves being empty. Especially try, if you get any sort of chance, to tell how much water they have aboard; if they have to load up on that before starting a chase, we have a much better chance.”

“We’d have to check all of them for that to be useful,” pointed out Mike.

“True. But do your best without looking suspicious. Whatever you’ve managed to think of or haven’t, both of you come in again at second sunset.”

“We’ll have to be outside to know when that is. Don’t count on perfection, Captain dear.”

“I won’t, one and only mate. Off you go.”

Outside, where the pair eventually found their way without interference, there was a thunderstorm overhead. They had not yet separated, thinking it better to learn some geography together first. Keo automatically dashed for the lake, the ship, and the drinking breakers, then stopped when he remembered the last were already full.

Mike had followed him more slowly. Together, they spent the next quarter hour sweeping hailstones from the deck and cabin roof into the lake and noticing with interest that no one was in sight to do the same on any of the nearby craft. There might, of course, have been some asleep in the cabins, but shore watches don’t sleep. Maybe they’d heard some truth. The two discussed this as they worked, concluding that there was no unsuspicious way to settle the question. After the storm had passed, they went ashore, without helmet discipline though Keo made a start, and walked away from the pool for a short distance rather than toward any of the ships.

“I wonder how they get in and out of this place, anyway. I still can’t imagine any way of calling up a wave when they want it.”

“That might be only for getting in, anyway,” pointed out Keo. “There might be some way of digging or blasting or simply opening a quick channel to let everything wash out as the lake empties. We could check the coral pattern for signs of something they could slide out of the way—some sort of channel gate.”

“But some of the ships are aground now. That technique could be embarrassing.”

The mate nodded silently.

“Does this city have or use any other ships?” asked Mike after a pause. “There are always lots around Muamoku, dozens of different types and sizes. This place doesn’t seem to have much in the way of docking facilities, unless we missed an awful lot on our earlier walk.”

“Most of our ships aren’t too different from these,” answered Keo. “We’ve never done much ship design ourselves. We seem to have brought all the varieties we’ve ever needed with us. Our ancestors knew Kainui was all ocean, of course. We’ve bought seeds from other cities sometimes, but the ships they grew weren’t enough better to be worth the cost. The ice near the pole seems to call for tricky sailing, sometimes, but we very seldom need to go there.”

They walked slowly back toward the city entrance, sometimes feeling a little uncertain of their way among the irregular ice hummocks. They had almost succeeded in taking the captain’s advice about getting lost when they sighted two men—their gender was plain since, evidently not planning to leave shore, they were not wearing sound armor—who walked as though they knew where they were going. Trying not to be too conspicuous about it, Mike and Keo followed them, and in a few minutes recognized their surroundings once more. In another hundred meters they saw the city entrance.