Hal Clement - Noise

Waiting until his escort should be well out of sight, Hoani left his room again and went to the adjoining but unconnected apartment shared by captain and mate. Keo answered his knock at once, and gestured him to enter. Wanaka, seated at a worktable with charts—columns of numbers rather than maps in the Earthly sense—in front of her, looked up. Neither seemed surprised to see him, but his report of the drained water breakers caused them to look sharply at each other for a moment, then nod slowly.

“I wondered how they’d do it,” the mate remarked. “What d’you suppose they’ll use for an excuse if we say anything?”

“Doesn’t matter. They’ll either have one, which will leave us free for a while longer, or they won’t. In that case they’ll either take our armor or simply lock us up.”

Evidently, Hoani decided, Wanaka had not been sincere in accepting Hinemoa’s trade proposal. She was intending to leave after all.

“Why should they bother with that, if they’ve taken our water?” he asked, and promptly wished he hadn’t.

“You’ve refilled the breakers already. If they drain them again, we can refill them at sea easily enough. There aren’t quite as many storms here in the high latitudes, but there are enough.”

“Then why did they take the water at all?”

The captain smiled in a way Mike had not seen before.

“I am guessing. I’d like to make sure I’m right before we risk leaving, but don’t see how I can. Have you seen ’Ao since we arrived?”

Mike reported in some detail his encounter with the children. The captain showed little interest in the city model or power information, though it became evident later that she had listened carefully. She had a higher priority.

“Did ’Ao have ’Oloa with her? I know she brought it into the city.”

Mike thought a moment. “No. She must have left it at Eru’s home. All her talk was with Eru and me, except for courtesy to my guides. I’d guess she didn’t want to forget and talk to it.”

Keo spoke up. “She wanted me to take it, earlier. I got the impression she’d been embarrassed by something Eru said about it. Maybe I wasn’t as sympathetic as I should have been.”

For the second time since Mike had known her, Wanaka used language that was plainly rude; this time he couldn’t decipher it at all, but even her husband raised his eyebrows.

“Keo, get down to Eru’s home and—can you find it?”

“Not without help.”

“Then get help. Wanting to talk to her won’t be suspicious. If no one answers when you get there you won’t be able to go in, of course, but wait as long as necessary. If she’s there alone, or comes back alone while you’re waiting, make sure about the doll. If Eru or any of his family is there with her, tell her I need to see her, and while you’re talking look around to see if the doll’s in sight. Don’t let Eru or—”

“Of course.” Keokolo disappeared.

“We’re leaving?” Mike’s words weren’t entirely a question.

“If we can. It depends on two things I don’t know yet: just how the breakers were emptied, and whether we still have the doll. We could do without it—maybe—but I’d rather not. If the breakers were emptied through the regular drains, then these folks will probably take our armor or restrain us by force if they catch us trying to leave. If, as I’m hoping, they punched holes, we may have a better chance.”

Mike raised an eyebrow himself, but didn’t ask for more details. He was startled when the captain supplied them.

“I hope they just punched holes in the breakers. It would mean they didn’t expect them to heal. Did you know those seven ships we’ve seen are all the city has?”

“Do you know that, or did they tell you?”

The captain gave him an approving glance, which rather worried Mike. If he were getting cynical enough to please Wanaka, maybe he was in trouble. He shouldn’t be taking for granted that anything he was told was probably a lie. These traders…

“There are no others around the city; the place they are lying seems to be the only port. The city is moving. How could the others, if there are any, find it?”

“We asked about that before.”

“And got an answer. Did you believe it?”

“It seemed plausible to me,” Mike evaded.

Wanaka merely looked at him. He changed the subject.

“How do you expect to find Muamoku?”

“Circle the world westward at its latitude, of course.”

“And why couldn’t these folks do just the same thing?”

“You didn’t notice, either?” The captain looked rather smug. “ This city doesn’t try to maintain latitude! They’re quite casual about north and south drift. They worry about melting if they get much too far north, of course, since the town is made mostly of ice, but they certainly don’t care about keeping their latitude range narrow enough to be useful for searching ships; remember the mists at this far south are even heavier than closer to the equator.

“Besides, they’ve been too far north too recently; they’ve lost a lot of city to melting—”

“You’ve seen this, or just been told?”

“ We ’ve seen it! We’ve seen the change in water line.”

“All right, they have only a few ships. How does that connect with empty drinking breakers?”

But Wanaka simply smiled again. It seemed that Mike was not yet on full crew status.

Keokolo was more than an hour returning from his errand, and Wanaka seemed to be worrying slightly about how close they were to sunset. When he returned, ’Ao was with him, but the doll was not.

When the captain, clearly restraining her temper with an effort, asked where it was, the child replied that she didn’t think she’d need it on watch and had not wanted to bring it for fear of rousing suspicion, and she didn’t want to carry it on the tour of the city because someone might wonder why anyone as old as she was would be carrying a doll around. Wanaka cooled down at once. Mike could guess the captain’s thoughts; the child was using her head. He wondered in passing whether games theory was a formal science on Kainui. With trading a major industry…

“All right. Very good, in fact. Can you get back to Eru’s by yourself?”

“Mau.”

“Do it. Get ’Oloa and your armor, and tell them you’re on watch tonight if you haven’t already. Can you get back to the ship on your own, too?” ’Ao merely nodded this time.

“It doesn’t look as though anyone gets stopped at the air lock, but if they worry about someone your age going out alone this close to sunset tell them you’re on watch, and if they’re still bothered ask for someone to guide you so you can obey orders. You don’t like admitting that you’re too young to do without a guide, of course. Be insulted if you like, but not so much they bring you back here instead of to the ships.”

“’Ioe.” ’Ao looked appropriately indignant.

“We’ll be with you somewhere around sunset, no later if we can help it. I wish I knew when that was; we’re farther south than I’ve ever been, the tables don’t give sunrise and sunset for latitudes greater either way than fifty. At least we’re close to the solstice, though.

“Check the water supply when you get there. If it’s down—Mike refilled it a little while ago—don’t worry and don’t try to refill it unless there’s actually a storm going on.”

The girl looked indignant once more, but the remark about obeying orders had sunk in and she only nodded. Wanaka decided against having her repeat her commands and gestured toward the door. ’Ao disappeared.

“Now, Mike. Can you find the air lock and the ship by yourself?”

“Yes, Captain. No trouble.”