Hal Clement - Noise

“Nowhere near,” replied the child, and “Not a chance,” said Mike in the same breath.

Wanaka nodded slowly; then displaying a complete lack of Mike’s fear of sounding silly, she asked another question.

“Does either of you think there’s the slightest chance that he already knows our kind of Finger, and has been hiding it?”

Both Hoani and ’Ao hesitated before answering, to the captain’s relief.

“I didn’t think of that,” the child said slowly, “but nothing happened to make me think of it.”

“I can’t remember his using any sign before ’Ao or I had given it to him,” was Mike’s more objective answer.

“Good. Then for now, at least, we’ll assume that he’s the only one of his people who can understand even a little of world Finger. That could be useful.”

“Unless he’s teaching it to some others right now, or more likely to his friends when he gets home. In his place I’d start doing that just to be able to talk to friends without grown-ups knowing—”

The captain’s eyes widened. Then, “Come inside, not-so-little one. There’s some work to be done on your badge. Just remember, I’m leaving space for possible code about swelled heads.” The child subsided, just slightly, and led the way happily into the air lock.

They emerged in a few minutes, and ’Ao made her way up the mast with no words. It seemed safe to assume that she would remain in high alert mode for some time to come.

Mata was gaining slightly on the fleet, but not very steadily; Keo was making much longer tacks than the others. Wanaka looked the situation over for several minutes, but made no criticism. Unless Aorangi itself made some drastic change in course or speed, which seemed unlikely at the rate the place had seemed to be melting, it would be at least a couple of days before they got anywhere near it. Mata could probably draw ahead of the other ships eventually, but her captain didn’t care greatly whether this actually happened. Being sure she could actually outsail the others could be useful information, of course—for both parties. Hinemoa had claimed to know Mata ’s sailing performance, but there was the hope that this also might have been untrue or at least overly optimistic.

Mike, after the captain had been silent for over an hour, requested permission to leave the deck to update his notes. This was granted with a brief Finger gesture.

By the middle of the next day they were part of the fleet. ’Oloa, after a few tacks, claimed that it was on a course likely to pass the city somewhat to the west and almost certainly out of sight in the haze. Wanaka received this news thoughtfully, and after a moment directed Keo to remain within the fleet until further notice. Whoever was at the helm was to match the other vessels tack for tack. If any of them changed from the general pattern, Mata would stay with the majority. There was to be no slightest hint that she either could or wanted to get away.

“What do we do if they miss their city?” asked Keo.

“Try to decide whether it was on purpose. Guilty until proved innocent,” his wife answered dryly. “We have as much water as they do, I’m sure.”

But the Aorangi fleet didn’t miss. Just south of the latitude that ’Oloa considered most likely to have been reached by now by the melting city the fleet turned eastward, and half a day later the somewhat shrunken ice mounds of its home port appeared through the haze.

They approached the same “beach” from which they had departed a few days earlier, but the fact was not at once clear. It was ’Ao who pointed out that the iceberg was floating a meter or two higher than when they had last seen it, producing some changes in the shape of the shoreline. Since Mata was now riding if anything slightly deeper, suggesting less dense sea water at the surface, this called for explanation. None of her crew spoke about it, but even the child was thinking.

All the vessels drew up as before near the ice, Mata near the middle of the line. No one was at hand on the shore this time to greet them. Mike felt fairly sure he knew why: no one in the city this time had known when to expect the fleet. Before, when it was on a planned search trip for the gold-fish, they had. He wondered when the landing wave would arrive, since there seemed no doubt about whether it would, and kept a sharp eye on the ice hummock overlooking the channel. Someone would show up there to look for them—or, of course, now that he thought of it, someone there might have already seen them and gone to give notice. He’d better watch for the wave, too.

He noticed incidentally that the metal they had left ashore was gone.

He missed seeing the wave’s approach, but suddenly the ships were being swept into the channel. None of them grounded this time; the lake seemed smaller in area, but if anything a little deeper. If he were right about this, then it was true that Aorangi was melting fairly rapidly, and it was even harder to see why it was riding higher. The poleward retreat was pretty surely a fact. They had already been fairly certain of this; ’Oloa had informed them when the city had come in sight that it was many kilometers farther south than a few days before, about the amount she had predicted. Mike didn’t actually get the idea that she was bragging, though her voice did have a much more human intonation than would have been expected by people in the early computer age.

The air temperature might have been lower, but the sound armor kept anyone from feeling that, and thermometers were not among Mata ’s navigation instruments.

All the crews except one member from each ship disembarked; for some reason, it seemed, the fleet was leaving deck watches on board this time. Mata ’s crew nevertheless all went ashore by the captain’s order and accompanied the others toward the city air lock. The Muamokuans were, as before, having more trouble with travel than the natives; their boots lacked the traction of those worn by the latter and the thunder, doubtless with help from the sounds in the sea, was sometimes loud enough to make the ice underfoot quiver. Mike, not for the first time, wondered whether the traction spikes on the Aorangi armor forced much special deck maintenance, or whether the decks merely healed themselves.

Hinemoa said that they were still welcome in their former quarters. Mike was asked to attend a meeting of teachers if he were not too tired, to describe in as much detail as he cared and for as long as he cared his background on Earth and his purpose on Kainui. He would be provided with guidance about the city for at least an equal amount of time after he had eaten and slept. She also requested that Wanaka, Keokolo, or both check the foodstuffs carried by the fleet, and provide samples of anything that seemed different in that line from Mata ’s farm tanks—in exchange, of course, for anything similar they might want from Aorangi ships.

All in all, it still seemed to be standard Polynesian hospitality. Mike wondered whether Wanaka’s suspicions were being eased or intensified. The fact that she still didn’t insist that ’Ao remain with them meant little; the captain seemed to be trusting the child with nearly adult responsibilities now, and of course it would never have occurred to her that the youngster might be in any danger. He was not sure this was a safe attitude but would not have objected even if he had had any right to. The child was not his, and Wanaka and Keo had formally accepted responsibility for her care and education. Her parents had been quite aware that they might never see her again when she left Muamoku.

And Mike realized, though he had a family of his own and couldn’t bring himself to feel the same way, that this implied no lack of affection between parents and child. It was the custom. If ’Ao and her young sibling had gone to sea with their own parents the whole family might be lost, a much more serious catastrophe by Kainuian standards as it had been with their Earthly ancestors. Keo and Wanaka’s child had not come with them; the idea would never have occurred to either of them.