Hal Clement - Mesklin 01.5, page 8
The mate, still attached to four safety lines, descended with food, and after half a dozen false turns managed to deliver it. Then, one at a time, rested and fed, each with three lines firmly attached to him, the balloonists were partly hauled and partly climbed up to the web. A sailor brought the lines back down for the next rescue, and another one for the next, and when one descended for the last time, he and Barlennan used two ropes apiece to get back to daylight.
There had been some debate about the communicator and the tracker.
The former had been hauled up ahead of the captain on a pair of carefully fastened lines, but the inertial equipment had gone up even earlier, still fastened to Hars. It remained attached to him until everyone had crossed the river to the other communicator; he refused to abandon the duty until the whole group, except the ones still at the rocket, was together.
The Flyers understood, they thought. They certainly didn’t complain. All Barlennan could overhear and understand was another of their theoretical arguments.
“Look, there’s only one explanation. We know that rock is sedimentary—”
“Know?”
“Well, it’s pretty obvious. One of the layers of the plateau, just below the foot of the cliff, has to be ammonia. That’s mineral there. A lot of it was melted by the falling rock, and the Mesklinites smelled it—”
“Smelled something like it.
“What else could that be?”
“How do I know? I’m not a Mesklinite.”
A third voice cut in. “The two of you are just gabbling. We haven’t seen a layer that looked like ammonia—it’d be white, like ice.”
“It would be ice.
“All right, but we haven’t seen any.”
“It’s underground at river level.”
“But how could—?”
“That’s what I’m saying! We’ve got to check—I mean, Barlennan’s people have to check—”
“How? They don’t have drills, or shovels, or picks, and you can’t expect a Mesklinite to go tunneling, do you?”
The captain had never heard this verb, but context suggested its meaning, rather too clearly.
“Why not? Barlennan’s had lots of time underground now, and he’s still all right.”
“How do you know he is?”
The captain started to tune out, as usual. Just another of the theory-based wrangles among Flyers, which of course might lead to something later.
Then he saw what the something probably would be. The Flyers were very persuasive beings—Any being with muscles and a nervous system complex enough to consider alternatives consciously can shudder. Dondragmer was obviously listening, too.
Under, Hal Clement - Mesklin 01.5
