James Cambias - A Darkling Sea

The memory of that first meal only reminds him of just how hungry he is. If he can’t find something soon he’s going to start getting sleepy, and if he falls asleep in this cold emptiness, he’ll probably starve to death. He sends out a few pings, hoping to scare up some swimmers or even just some threads, but the only echoes are the sharp irregular sounds of rocks and the endless muffled dullness of silt.

And then he catches another sound. It is faint, a long way off—a tiny tapping noise. Broadtail drifts and listens, getting a fix on how far away it is. Hundreds of cables away, but it’s something. At this distance he can’t tell if it’s civilized adults making something, nomads fighting or cracking open shells, or maybe just a big snapshell calling for a mate. It doesn’t matter to Broadtail; he sets his course toward the sound and calls on his very last reserves of strength for the swim. Either he will eat it or it will eat him.

Rob and Alicia finished their weekly shower together and were getting ready for bed. When you had only limited amounts of hot water, bathing became a tricky part of the relationship. Sure, it was nice to get all warm and clean together, and it was natural to segue directly into getting into bed together—but having sex did raise the problem of spending the next seven days all crusty and uncomfortable, or wasting half a dozen antibacterial wipes just hours after having a bath. So by mutual agreement, they observed a moratorium on sex for at least two days after bathing.

“All the same,” Rob said, “I don’t think I’m ever going to think that the smell of neoprene and urine on your skin is particularly arousing.”

“You Americans worry about smells too much.”

“Try growing up downwind from a paper mill and then tell me that. Anyway—should I stay here tonight or go to my own cabin?”

“Whichever you prefer. But if you do stay here, try to be more quiet when you go sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

There was a pause while Rob looked at Alicia and tried to figure out just how mad at him she was. “Um, sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. I was just—”

She held up a hand. “It would be a very bad idea to lie to me right now, Robert.”

“You know what I’ve been doing?”

“It is not hard to guess. You start slipping out at night and someone is playing tricks on the Sholen.”

“It’s not a big deal, really. Just some harmless pranks.”

“What are you trying to do? Convince them that we are a lot of foolish adolescents?”

“Hey, keep it down. Look, we want them to go away and quit bothering us. Dr. Sen’s the only one who could do that and he won’t. This way at least we can give them an idea of how unhappy we are.”

“It is idiotic!”

“Well, maybe it is, but at least we’re doing something!”

Alicia made a sound of annoyance. “It would be more useful to hit yourself with a hammer. And who is this ‘we?’ Are you a king, now?”

“Never mind. Goodnight.” Rob left her cabin feeling angry and embarrassed. Of course playing practical jokes on the aliens was silly. He didn’t need her to point that out, thank you very much. As if she was a 100 percent serious every second of her life. She needed to lighten up. That was her problem: she needed to lighten up. Not get all high and mighty and pass judgment on him for doing a few harmless practical jokes. Euro pe ans had no sense of humor.

He went to the common room to get a snack, then headed for his own cabin. But in Hab One something was going on. Half a dozen people were gathered around the door of the aliens’ cabin, including Gishora and Tizhos. Beyond them the door of the room was blocked by some kind of orange membrane. After a second Rob recognized it as a float balloon. The archaeologists used them to move heavy items. Someone had inflated a really big float balloon inside the Sholens’ room.

Dickie Graves moved up next to Rob and nudged him. When Rob looked at him he winked. Rob grinned. Even Alicia would agree this was a good one. Worthy of Caltech.

Dr. Sen and Sergei were fussing about with some test equipment at the doorway. “Portable spectrometer. They’re afraid it’s filled with hydrogen,” muttered Dickie.

“Is it?” whispered Rob, suddenly alarmed. Not even Dickie would risk filling a balloon with flammable gas in the confined space of the station. Would he?

Dickie shook his head almost imperceptibly, then nodded toward Sen. The station director peered at the spectrometer display, then made a neat ten-centimeter incision in the balloon with a dissecting scalpel. It gave a sigh and began to wrinkle. Sergei started shoving it into the room, forcing out the air. Dr. Sen turned around and addressed the crowd. “I am reasonably certain that the person responsible for this incident is here watching at this moment, so I would like to make it clear that there must be no more practical jokes of this kind. This may seem to be very amusing, but I am becoming concerned that if pranks of this kind continue they will cause a serious accident.”

Did his gaze rest longer on Rob and Dickie than on the others? Rob wasn’t sure.

Sergei got the balloon squashed down to a manageable bundle, and the two Sholen went inside to inspect their quarters. The onlookers began to drift away.

Dickie gestured for Rob to follow, then led the way down to the geo lab.

“Pretty good,” said Rob when the door was shut.

“The best yet, I’d say, and entirely harmless. Poor Sen looked a pompous ass standing there giving us a dire warning about the dangers of inflating balloons.”

“Yeah. Listen, Dickie—do you think this is working? Are we accomplishing anything here?”

“As to that, we’re achieving three very important mission objectives. First, we’re showing the Sholen what we think of them. Second, we’re having great fun doing it. And finally, as a bonus, we’re getting Sen thoroughly annoyed. What more can we ask for?”

“Do you think it’ll drive the Sholen away?”

Dickie nodded energetically. “Oh, yes—although not for the reason I thought originally. I was expecting them to give up and go home, but now I reckon Sen’s going to ask them to leave just to save his own dignity.”

Rob went back to his own quarters for the night. He thought about stopping to tell Alicia about the balloon gag, but decided against it. Let her find out from everyone else, and wonder if he’d done it himself. He got into bed and dozed off thinking of ways to top Dickie’s prank.

After getting the balloon removed from their quarters, Gishora and Tizhos invited Vikram Sen inside. “We wish to discuss with you the lack of progress in evacuating the station,” said Gishora.

“I believe I have already explained several times to you that we have all agreed we are not leaving,” said the human.

“Yes, but you must understand that tendencies within the Consensus on our home world advocate much stricter controls on human activity beyond your home star system. Possibly even within your own system. Many aboard our ship belong to those factions. They constantly urge action. I cannot put them off forever.”

Vikram Sen shook his head from side to side. “I am very sorry to hear that. Perhaps you should go away and resolve your internal differences in privacy.”

“I fear we cannot,” said Gishora. “Tell me if you remain determined to resist.”

“We cannot prevent your people from doing what you want to do, but we will not help you in any way—unless you choose to leave. I am sure everyone would help you most energetically with that. No, Gishora, if you really wish to make us leave you must carry us bodily to the elevator.”

“Please explain to me why you choose this course of action,” said Gishora. “You cannot prevent us from removing you. Already a lander full of Guardians sits on the surface. I lack understanding of what you hope to accomplish.”