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  K:\eMule\Incoming\Dr. Robert L. Forward - Ocean Under the Ice [Book 3 of the
                             Rocheworld Series].pdb

PDB Name: Ocean Under the Ice [Book 3 of
Creator ID: REAd
PDB Type: TEXt
Version: 0
Unique ID Seed: 0
Creation Date: 16-8-1973
Modification Date: 16-8-1973
Last Backup Date: 1-1-1970
Modification Number: 0


======================
Ocean Under the Ice [Book 3 of the Rocheworld Series]
by Robert L. Forward and Martha Dodson Forward
======================

Copyright (c)1994 by Robert L. Forward and Martha Dodson Forward


Fictionwise
www.Fictionwise.com

Science Fiction


---------------------------------
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original
purchaser. Duplication or distribution of this work by email, floppy disk,
network, paper print out, or any other method is a violation of international
copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment.
---------------------------------


         *ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS*
       The authors wish to thank the following people, who helped us in
several technical areas: Julie Forward Fuller, Eve Forward, Brian Kirk, Vonda
McIntyre, Gerald David Nordley, and Vernor Vinge.
       The "Christmas Bush" motile was jointly conceived by Hans P. Moravec
and Robert L. Forward, and drawn by Jef Poskanzer using a CAD system.
       All final art was expertly prepared by that terrific team in Marina Del
Rey, California -- MultiGraphics.
--------
         *PROLOGUE*
       The wind was not blowing as hard now, but it still had enough force to
whistle as it widened the grotesque tunnels it had carved in the icy
promontory. The bulging mound of compacted snow loomed above the dark waters
below, themselves nearly frozen and greasy-looking with irregular sheets of
ice. The wind had created the huge lump it was now destroying; shaping and
scraping the surface with hard-frozen dust as abrasive as diamonds;
undercutting the exposed surfaces at the vulnerable base of the bulge. Finally
the critical point was passed. With a horrendous crack, the snowy mound
separated along a nearly vertical fissure, and splashed into the cold ocean
waters.
       In the city, Silver-Rim heard the splash. The icerug had never seen an
iceberg form, but it was aware of what had caused the explosive sound. The
red-colored sunlight flooding down from the rising Sun-God onto Silver-Rim's
acre-sized carpet warmed and invigorated the icerug as its velvet textured




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cyan-colored body absorbed the weak red sunlight and turned the energy into
food.
       On the opposite side of the sky from the Sun-God was the strange new
moon that had arrived from outer space many seasons ago. Almost as big as the
other moons, it was not a sphere, but a flat circle. And instead of orbiting
the Night-God like all the other moons, it wandered as it willed. Right now,
it seemed to be moving closer to Ice.
       With its attention now directed outward, Silver-Rim noticed that it was
easy enough to move, this morning. Silver-Rim had been composing a new song,
so intently that it had paid no attention to the weather. Now it realized too
that the wind was not blowing ice-dust into its eye and that it was able to
stand upright on its pedestal without having to lean into the wind. An
unusually substantial meal of country-raised flesh added to the icerug's
sensation of comfort, and Silver-Rim noted that it was indeed a good day.
Silver-Rim glided across its carpet toward the massive stone Grand Portal that
led to the Great Meeting Hall; in the distance it could see Clear-Eye making
for the same entrance. Clear-Eye's carpet, a brilliant blue, was easy enough
to distinguish even at a great distance, and Silver-Rim's large orb was
unusually keen, even for an icerug. The two met at the entrance, glided side
by side down the glittering hall upon their parallel travel strands, and
entered the music room chatting companionably.
       "Hear this, now, Clear-Eye, I've been working on this melody all
night." Silver-Rim flipped open its dressy cloak, and two of its four
tentacles reached for the long, narrow harp with the thick strings. The
tentacles stretched and shortened themselves as they plucked the strings, and
the deeply rumbling notes of the new melody sounded sweet to both of them.
--------
         *CHAPTER 01 -- SAILING*
       Six lightyears distant from the Sun, a spacecraft sailed through the
sparse "wind" of photons emanating from the red dwarf star Barnard. The most
visible portion of the spacecraft was its gigantic circular lightsail, a vast
expanse of highly reflective aluminum foil, three hundred kilometers across.
As the dim red photons from Barnard bounced off the reflective surface of the
sail, they each gave the sail a tiny push. Together, the pushes added up to a
significant light pressure force that was able to increase or decrease the
orbital speed of the lightsail around the red sun, allowing the spacecraft to
move either inward or outward through the Barnard planetary system so that its
human crew could visit the multitude of planets and moons that orbited around
the star. The crew called the spacecraft _Prometheus_ -- the bringer of light
-- for it had arrived at Barnard traveling on a beam of blue-green laser light
-- transmitted across the vast interstellar distance between Sol and Barnard
by a gigantic sun-pumped laser.
       Almost lost in the vast expanse of the lightsail was the habitat that
held the exploration crew, a cylinder as big as an apartment building,
connected by tension lines to the rigging. On the hydroponics deck of the
habitat, Nels Larson -- lounging comfortably in his regeneration tank -- was
giving instructions to his hydroponics deck crew, Cinnamon Byrd, Deirdre
O'Connor, and Katrina Kauffmann. Cinnamon had just awakened from her sleep
shift and was sipping quietly from her breakfast drink-ball squeezer full of
hot pseudo-coffee. Around the circumference of her drink-ball was painted a
scene of white snow-capped Alaskan mountain peaks interspersed by valleys
filled with glowing blue-green glacier fields. Her personal robotic imp on her
shoulder, its multicolored laser lights twinkling among its multibranched
green-laser-illuminated metallic "twigs", was carefully plaiting a braid of
her dark straight hair below her left ear. When the motile finished braiding,
it curled up the two short braids around Cinnamon's ears and settled itself
down in a band across the top of her head like a set of twinkling earphones.
One tiny twig from the motile, tipped with a deep red laser, reached in behind
her ear. From there it could monitor her pulse and vital signs, and using
laser reflection spectroscopy, even measure the chemical constituents of the




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blood flowing through the capillaries just under her light reddish-brown skin.
Another twig curved down to one side of her mouth where its tip could pick up
her slightest whisper.
       Deirdre's imp was in its usual place, in a six-pointed star holding up
a mass of dark curls sitting on top of her head. One of its secondary twigs
was extended down near her mouth, while another touched her ear. Deirdre's
shoulder, which was normally occupied by her pet, Foxx, was empty; but there
was a large lump in Deirdre's right breast pocket. She leaned against a
stanchion, a quiet, slender figure -- unobtrusive in a soft brown coverall and
gleaming brown pseudo-leather ankle boots. As she held her own hot coffee
close to her nose, her sleeves revealed the glint of gold, from the thin
torques which encircled her wrists. These, along with the strange flat stone
in one ear-lobe, Deirdre wore always, without thinking of them. She squeezed
the drink-ball expertly, to inhale the aroma without actually dispensing any
liquid.
       Katrina stood nearer the regen tank, her dark-blue eyes warm with
compassion and interest. It was seldom the petite biologist was able to look
down into another person's face. Nels had been patiently sitting in the
strange fluid for some weeks, and planned to spend another eight or ten. It
had been the alien flouwen who had taught him how to activate the leg growth
genes in his DNA that had been blocked by a chemical accident to his pregnant
mother, and had devised the chemical solution that would fool the cells in his
leg stumps into thinking they were in a mother's womb. He hopefully expected
that the result would be a serviceable pair of human legs, rather than the
flippers he had been born with. He'd lived 40 years with the result of that
accident to his mother, and he regarded this experiment with scientific
interest as well as personal desire. If the regeneration process worked on
him, it would work on anyone, and the whole world would benefit for centuries
to come from the knowledge that had been gained from the flouwen. Now he spoke
to his hydroponics deck crew, enlisting their aid in making sure the small
buds from the flouwen were well cared for.
       "With the 'Littles' on board, we now have three more mouths to feed,"
he said. "And with me stuck in this regen tank, it's going to be up to you
three to carry the full load."
       A deep voice spoke from the laser-illuminated spider-shaped imp sitting
on Nels's right shoulder. It was the distinctive voice persona of the ship's
main computer, James. "I can assign a 'Christmas Branch' subset of the ship's
motile to hydroponics shift duty."
       "That won't be necessary, James," said Katrina. "The three of us can
easily manage the lab. Besides, the Christmas Bush has a lot to do just now,
taking care of both Nels and John."
       Cinnamon agreed. "John is a long way from recovering from that
lung-full of ammonia-water he got on Rocheworld, and a sub-branch has to be
inside his lungs at all times, keeping the air passages clear. You and your
motiles are busy enough, James. We humans should do our part in keeping the
ship running. We'll handle the hydroponics deck." Then, not really
appreciating that she was about to add to James's workload, since she and the
rest of the crew had been taking James and its ever-present imps for granted
for decades, Cinnamon finished her coffee, and tossing her drink-ball lightly
into the air, she whispered out of the side of her mouth to the imp on her
ear, "Done."
       A one-sixth-sized segment of her personal imp detached itself from her
hairband. Its three bottom "feet" blurred as they vibrated into motion, flying
the butterfly-sized motile through the air to the squeezer, where the fuzzy
fingers of its three front "hands" caught the container in its leisurely
low-gee trajectory and pushed it off through the air toward the central shaft.
The imp hadn't gone far before it was met by a larger imp that had flown up
from the galley. The galley imp took the drink-ball back down to the kitchen
where it would be cleaned and stored until Cinnamon asked for another cup of
coffee.




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       "I'm mostly concerned about the food supply for the three flouwen,"
insisted Nels. "I'd like you to check and see how all the flora and fauna are
doing in the flouwen habitat tank. Now that we have left Rocheworld, and can
no longer get flouwen food supplies from its surface, it's important that they
not only survive, but thrive, in order to give the flouwen adequate variety in
their diet. I want the three Littles happy with their meals."
       "We'll check that first," reassured Cinnamon, reaching over to adjust
the collar on Nels's coverall. "Anything else before the Christmas Bush gets
you ready for your sleep shift?"
       "I keep worrying about potential problems, but when I check them out on
my control console, I find that one of you has anticipated me and have taken
care of it."
       "We intend to keep it that way," replied Deirdre. She heard a rustling
sound in the corridor and looked around.
       The Christmas Bush had arrived, walking along the carpeted corridor
using two of its six main appendages as legs, the fine fibers at the tips of
its hexfurcated feet gripping the carpet securely. Two of its "hands" were
carrying some objects. It stopped near Nels's tank and rearranged appendages
until it was implanted firmly into the carpet on just one "leg", leaving four
"arms" and a bushed-out "head". In this configuration, with its multicolored
laser lights glittering from the green-illuminated branches, the meter-tall
robotic motile looked very much like a small artificial Christmas tree. This
Christmas tree, however, was bearing some most unusual gifts in its branches,
a bar of soap, a squeezer full of hot water, some washcloths and towels, and a
custom-fabricated bedpan. Although Nels weighed almost nothing in the low
acceleration environment of the lightsail propelled spacecraft, he still had a
significant mass and it took a full-sized Christmas Bush to hold his body in
the proper positions while it assisted Nels in taking care of the necessities
of bodily hygiene.
       Cinnamon spoke up. "Although I mostly trained as an EMT, I've learned
to give a good sponge bath. If James could use the Christmas Bush elsewhere,
I'd be glad to take over."
       Nels's pale skin suddenly flushed all over, the blond hairs on his arms
standing out in sharp contrast to the reddening skin underneath. The blush
extended up his forehead and under his long blond swept-back hair.
       "Ah-ah..." he stammered in panic.
       The smaller "twigs" on the bushed-out top portion of the Christmas Bush
vibrated into invisibility, moving the air around it and causing the voice of
James to emanate from the "head" region of the motile.
       "Thank you for the offer. But I think it best that I handle it,"
replied James. One of the "hand" branches of the motile elongated by a factor
of three and reached up to pull a curtain around Nels sitting in his tank. As
the curtain drew closed, Deirdre turned and grinned wickedly at Cinnamon, who
winked but said nothing. The constant presence of their personal imps tended
to make all the humans just a little watchful of their speech, and these two
were more reserved than most.
       Katrina, Deirdre, and Cinnamon now left Nels and bounced off down a
long corridor on the hydroponics deck in low gravity leaps, their feet
occasionally pushing against the looped carpet that lined the floors, walls,
ceilings, and shafts throughout _Prometheus_. After using the central shaft
stanchion to swing themselves around a corner into another corridor, they
brought themselves to a halt by planting their feet firmly into the carpet and
bending their knees in a controlled flexing motion that absorbed their energy
and momentum. They were now standing motionless before the thick clear window
of the large habitat tank that held the three flouwen. The wedge-shaped tank
reached from floor to ceiling along one whole wall of the corridor. It was two
meters high, six meters long, and varied from two meters wide near the central
shaft to six meters wide near the outer walls.
       Placed in the middle of the corridor was an out-of-place sofa, dragged
up from the lounge area and put facing the tank window. There was a couple




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relaxing in the thick pile sofa, held in place in the low gravity by Velcro
"sticky-patches" on the back belt-line of their coveralls. The small black
woman with the trim razor-creased uniform was Space Marine Major General
Virginia Jones, Commander of the Barnard Star Expedition, while the large
older white man was her second in command, Colonel George Gudunov.
       When Deirdre saw the two mission commanders there, she moved around
behind Cinnamon and remained quiet, letting Cinnamon greet them. Wakened by
the bounding trip down the corridor, Deirdre's familiar was back on her
shoulder, its bushy reddish-brown tail nearly indistinguishable from Deirdre's
locks. Foxx belonged to a once rare, but now prospering, squirrel-like
marsupial species that Deirdre had discovered in the forests of South America
and saved from extinction. Katrina and Deirdre moved close to the tank,
looking intently at the small, flat, light-brown creatures visible on the
plants in the rear.
       "Look you, Katrina, that gingersnap species is doing almost too well.
It's the balance that's tricky, to keep the water clean, and with exactly the
right proportion of nutrients."
       "Right," murmured Katrina. "I'll do a thorough analysis." She bounded
off to the lab, and Deirdre bent closer, to watch the little plants undulating
in the stream of hot "smoky water" loaded with hydrogen sulfide and minerals.
The artificial volcanic vents were modeled after the ones occurring naturally
on Rocheworld, and were carefully designed to sustain the plant life, which in
turn nourished small animals, much enjoyed as food by the flouwen. The
hot-water vent-field was blocked off from the cold water in the larger part of
the tank by a maze of clear floor-to-ceiling baffles, backed up by circulation
pumps operating through holes in the tank sides. Deirdre automatically checked
the thermometers: the liquid, ten percent ammonia by weight, was well below
freezing in the habitat, and boiling hot near the vents. All was well within
the little world; they would not yet need the supply of dried and frozen
flouwen food they had brought with them from Rocheworld.
       George was eating his evening-shift dinner from his flip-lidded
free-fall tray, while General Jones was on her morning-shift coffee break,
enjoying a drink-ball squeezer of coffee and a croissant. Her drink-ball had
two stars and the words "THE BOSS" painted on it. The two commanders were
conversing quietly about crew rosters and science schedules, while keeping a
relaxed eye on the contents of the tank. Inside the tank the brightly colored
flouwen swam around and around in hypnotic swirling motions.
       "That smells heavenly, Jinjur," said Cinnamon, inhaling the delicious
aroma of the freshly-baked algae-flour croissant. "The galley imp must have
let Arielle into the kitchen again."
       She was putting another tray into the oven when I left," replied
Jinjur. "If you hurry, there may still be some left."
       "Order one for me too," added George, flipping up one of the lids on
his tray to take a peek inside. "I've got a little algae-butter left in my
condiments compartment."
       After whispering a command to her imp, Cinnamon moved across the carpet
to the tank window. She crooned a melodic greeting as her light-brown fingers
touched the cold glass.
       "Good morning! Good morning! Isn't it a lovely morning! Good morning!
Good morning to you!..." Cinnamon's imp picked up her song and passed it by
digitally-coded laser beams to the central computer James, who translated the
words into flouwenese, shifted the tune down in pitch to the flouwen's middle
range, then passed it along as a sonar signal to the alien creatures in the
tank.
       The flouwen swimming in the habitat tank were shaped like amorphous
blobs of living jelly, each as big as a very large human. Their bodies were
brightly colored, and shimmered internally like a liquid opal. Each of the
flouwen in the tank had been budded off from a "primary" body, which was still
back on Rocheworld, a gigantic multiton creature many meters across. A
normal-sized flouwen was too large and heavy to be accommodated on human




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vehicles, but three of the flouwen had budded off a portion of themselves in
order to go exploring with the humans. The buds still retained the personality
and memory of the primary body, although they were slightly diminished in
mental ability because of their smaller size. On their return to Rocheworld,
the buds would rejoin the primary body and pass on the knowledge they had
gained.
       One of the buds, called Little Red by the humans, was a bright
flame-red color. His primary back on Rocheworld, Roaring*Hot*Vermillion, was
called Loud Red by the humans. The second was Little White, with a partially
transparent opalescent milky-white color. He had budded from the flouwen,
Clear^White^Whistle, given the name White Whistler by the humans because of
his white color and high pitched whistling tones when he spoke. The third was
Little Purple, with a deep grape-colored purple hue. The oldest of the three,
he was many thousands of years old. He had budded from
Strong#Lavender#Crackle, called Deep Purple by the humans.
       Upon hearing Cinnamon's greeting song, Little Red undulated over to the
window and spread himself against the inside of the window. Through the thick
glass Cinnamon could hear a modulated roar that ended in a whistling chirp. A
sonar pickup inside the tank sensed the sounds and sent them to James, who
translated them from flouwenese into English, and passed them on to Cinnamon's
imp via coded laser beams transmitted from laser diodes hidden in the corners
of the corridor ceiling.
       *Are we there yet!?!* came Little Red's query out of the "earphones" of
the small imp on Cinnamon's head. The tone, although not the volume, was
James's attempt at a reasonable imitation of what Little Red probably sounded
like to the two older flouwen. *I'm bored! I want to go explore!*
       "We've only just started," replied Cinnamon. "Although Rocheworld is
close to Gargantua in this part of its elliptical orbit, it's going to take
weeks to transfer to an orbit around Gargantua, and a few more weeks before we
are ready to land on one of Gargantua's moons."
       *Too long!* complained Little Red.
       Just then, one of the galley imps rose up in the lift shaft at the end
of the corridor, levitated by the rapidly beating twigs on three of its
"feet". In one "hand" it was carrying Cinnamon's drink-ball, while the other
"hand" held four still-steaming croissants. As the imp passed the croissants
out, Deirdre quietly accepted one, broke off one end, and passed it up to
Foxx, who took it in tiny paws.
       The squeaks and chirps coming from the tank increased in frequency and
intensity as Little Red used his sonar to scan the corridor outside the tank.
Although the bodies of the flouwen were sensitive to light, they had no eyes,
and so normally they did not use light as a method of looking at things.
Instead they used sound pulses generated and detected by their bodies to
"see". In the liquid environment of their home ocean, this was a superior
method of observing things. It didn't depend upon light from the dim and often
absent Barnard, so the flouwen could "see" in the dark depths as well as they
could near the surface.
       With sonar, the flouwen didn't just look at the surface of an object,
for the sonar penetrated inside the object and gave the flouwen a
three-dimensional image of what they were seeing. Sonar travels best in water,
and a portion of Little Red's penetrating sound pulses bounced off the thick
glass. Of the part that penetrated into the glass, a large portion was
reflected by the glass-air interface, and only a small portion reached the air
in the corridor. In the air, the sound waves traveled five times slower than
they did in the water, and by the time they reflected from the soft, absorbing
clothing of the humans, and back through the air, and glass, and into the
water, there was little left. It was enough, however, for Little Red to "see"
that Cinnamon was eating something.
       *You eat!* Little Red announced. *I eat too!* The red flouwen peeled
itself off the window, and forming itself into an efficient swimming shape,
undulated away to the maze of baffles in the far corner of the habitat tank.




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The infinitely flexible body of Little Red had little difficulty in
penetrating the maze, so it wasn't long before he had jumped an animal that
looked like an orange-red blob -- as structureless as a flouwen. The animal
screamed as it attempted to elude the red pseudopods that Little Red formed
one after another to trap it.
       "I think I'll go now," said George, getting up as Little Red caught the
small creature. He handed his tray to the galley imp, peeled himself off the
sofa, and pushed down the corridor to the central shaft.
       "Me too," said Jinjur, following him while still carrying her squeezer
of coffee.
       Cinnamon averted her eyes and left too, as Little Red started to tear
his living and still screaming prey apart into little pieces. Each little part
continued to scream until its sounds were finally muffled by being absorbed
into Little Red's body. As Cinnamon made her way down the corridor, she raised
a hand and made a twisting motion next to one of the "earphones" on her imp
headband, as if turning up the volume on a audio set. In response to the
motion, James obliged her by playing a loud Sousa march.
       Deirdre, however, trying to learn as much as she could about the
little-observed process, looked dispassionately into the tank and watched
carefully as Little Red devoured his meal. The orange-red "rogue" that Little
Red was eating was one of a dozen that she and Cinnamon had budded from a
larger rogue in their Rocheworld fauna breeding tanks, and placed into the
flouwen tank vent field. The bud had originally been the size of a small
sausage, and now it was as big as her forearm. The vent field must be
operating well if the rogue grew that much in the few weeks since they set up
the flouwen habitat tank.
       It wasn't pleasant watching Little Red eat, but Deirdre knew that
Little Red was doing what he must to survive. Deirdre had once raised snakes,
including large pythons that required rabbits for their weekly meals. Deirdre
had perforce become an expert at killing rabbits. It was unfortunate that the
food animals that the flouwen ate could not be humanely killed before being
eaten, but that was the way life was built on Rocheworld. Like the flouwen,
the rogues and most of the other Rocheworld fauna could not be killed. Trying
to kill a flouwen or a rogue was like trying to kill a slime mold or an ant
colony. One could tear any of them apart into smaller and smaller pieces, but
each piece would be just as alive as the larger piece, until finally only the
individual cells were left.
       Little Red had torn the rogue into bits which were small enough to
digest easily, and they were now dispersed as separate orange-red blobs inside
the large flame-red blob that formed Little Red's body. Deirdre watched
carefully as the orange-red blobs grew smaller and smaller until there was
only flame-red where orange-red had once been. Deirdre had watched the process
of assimilation under a microscope and knew what was happening as Little Red
digested the rogue.
       On Earth, where humans, animals, and plants have distinctively
proteins, the humans must digest the animal and plant proteins down to simple
compounds like sugars and starches and amino acids, then build them back up
into human proteins. On Rocheworld, where all the animal lifeforms used the
same basic cell, the process of digestion didn't go as far as it did on Earth.
The basic Rocheworld cell was quite large compared to a human cell and had a
dumbbell-shaped body of clear jelly that varied from glassy to almost liquid
depending upon the water content. When enlarged with water, it was the size of
the body of a very small ant. The cells replicated by growing larger,
splitting in two, then forming a necked down portion. A group of these cells
would spontaneously collect together into a cross-linked blob, with necked
down portions interlocking with end knob portions. On the surface of each cell
was a complex pseudo-random pattern of grooves and indentations that operated
as a "template" for the genetic code of the organism. In the higher animals,
such as the flouwen, portions of these patterns were changeable and served as
the repository for the long term memory.




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       Once a blob of cells had collected together, a liquid crystal layer
would form between the cells, with the large complex organic chemicals in the
liquid crystal layer being determined and ordered by the grooves and
indentations in the surface of the cells. The optical properties of the thin
layer of liquid crystal gave the flouwen and the other fauna their distinctive
bright colors. The liquid crystal layer acted as the coordinating nervous
system or "brain" of the collection of cells. Because all of their body cells
were involved in their thinking and memory processes, the flouwen were, in
essence, all brain. The genetic code information in the surface of the cells
was used to organize the liquid crystal "brain", while the liquid crystal
layer in turn could impress grooves and patterns onto the cells to store
memories. When Little Red was "digesting" the rogue, all its body was doing
was dissolving the orange-red liquid crystal layer of the rogue, and using its
own flame-red liquid crystal to change the genetic pattern on the surface of
the cells, which then became Little Red cells.
       Now that the screams had stopped, Cinnamon returned. With her was the
ship's chief engineer, Shirley Everett and one of the expedition's
geoscientists, Richard Redwing. Both were well over six feet tall and well
muscled, like professional basketball players. Shirley's long, blond braid was
held in place behind her left ear by her imp, shaped into a crescent-shaped
hairclip, while Richard bore his imp on his shoulder, like all the men on the
ship. They came up behind Deirdre, close to the window.
       Deirdre had been so absorbed in watching Little Red eat, that she
hadn't been paying attention to the other flouwen in the tank. Now, she
noticed Little White plastered up against the tank window -- and her left ear
was ringing as if it were being subjected to intense noise. She turned to look
at the arrival of the other humans, and the pressures in her ears changed. At
the same time, she also finally noticed that Foxx was emitting a continual
complaining chitter, and was fussing with her ears. Deirdre then realized that
while she had been staring into the habitat tank at Little Red, Little White
had been staring out of the tank at her -- scanning her body with high
frequency sonar pulses.
       ^There is something moving on your shoulder,^ said Little White. ^It is
not the Talking@Sticks that some humans have on their shoulders. It has stiff
sticks inside, but it is covered with soft flesh and a thick fuzzy surface --
like hair -- but it covers the whole body, not just the top of the head. I
have never seen such a thing before. What is it?^
       "It's my pet, Foxx," replied Deirdre. "The fuzzy surface on it is
called fur -- it is dark red in color."
       ^Interesting,^ said Little White. ^I must 'look' it using light as well
as see it using sound.^
       *Pet with red color?!?* exclaimed Little Red. *I must look it too!*
       The two flouwen each formed a pseudopod with a large spheroid at the
end and held the spheroid between their body and the window. After a few
moments concentration, the color of the red and white spheroids slowly began
to fade, while the intensity of the color in the arm of the pseudopod grew.
The flouwen were withdrawing the strongly colored liquid crystal layer from
between the transparent cells that made up the spheroid. Finally, all the
liquid crystal was gone, leaving only a transparent sphere. Initially, the
sphere was nearly invisible, since the jelly in the cells was nearly saturated
with water molecules, but as the flouwen squeezed the water from the cells,
they became denser and more visible, changing shape as it did so.
       Finally, it transformed into a large thick "magnifying glass" held on
the end of the colored pseudopod of each flouwen, like a monocle on a stick.
The light from the corridor passed through the curved lens of transparent
flouwen flesh, which focused it onto the surface of the flouwen body behind.
There, the light-sensitive flesh of the flouwen could detect the hue and
intensity patterns of the light. It was the primary of Little White -- White
Whistler -- which had discovered the concept of a light-focusing lens some
decades ago, before the arrival of the humans, and had taught the other




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flouwen the technique of making an eye that could focus light images.
       Deirdre took Foxx down off her shoulder and brought the animal up near
the tank window so the flouwen could look at it more clearly. While the
flouwen watched, she had Foxx go through a few actions; racing up one arm and
back down another, hanging from a finger with one hind foot, and jumping from
one hand to another. All the while Foxx chittered away excitedly.
       *What does it say?* asked Little Red. *I do not understand its talk!*
       "It can't talk," replied Deirdre. "It just makes noises."
       *It can't talk!?! Then it must be good to eat!* pronounced Little Red.
       "We don't eat pets!" said Deirdre firmly.
       With that revelation, Little Red was disgusted. *Pet not good for
talking! Pet not good for food! Pet not good for anything! Pet DUMB!* The red
flouwen absorbed its transparent "eye" back into its body and undulated away.
Little White, however, was still interested.
       ^I would like to know more about this Foxx creature.^
       "James has a large file on Foxx and the many other animals on Earth,"
Deirdre replied. "You can look at it on your taste-screen console."
       The white flouwen kept one portion of his body near the window holding
the imaging lens so he could continue to look at Deirdre and her pet, while
the rest flowed across the habitat tank to one wall that contained what looked
like the screen of a computer console. It was specially built by the ship's
computer James for use by the flouwen. In addition to the usual touch-screen
and optical display, it had a "taste-screen" overlay embedded with
electrochemical sensors and transmitters that allowed the flouwen to interact
with the central computer using the chemical senses that they normally used
for transmitting information. Soon, one part of Little White was tasting the
information on Foxx coming from James through the taste-screen on the wall,
while another part of Little White was looking at the surface of Foxx using
light focused through the lens onto its surface, and still another part of
Little White was seeing the entire volume of Foxx using sonar pulses.
       ^Very interesting creature,^ Little White said finally. ^Especially the
tail. Do humans have tails?^
       "No!" replied Deirdre.
       ^Why not?^ asked Little White in the typical blunt flouwen fashion.
Deirdre was saved from having to answer by an announcement from James. "There
is a call coming up from the laser link communicator that was set up in Agua
Dulce bay on Rocheworld. Deep Purple wishes to converse with Little Purple."
       Little Purple went over to the wall console, and Little White pulled
away from the screen and let Little Purple take his place. The conversation
didn't take long and Little Purple soon returned.
       #My primary called to say it is leaving Agua Dulce for a while. It is
going to return to the beaches on the Isles of Thought, there to rock up and
continue its thinking on ... # there was a pause as James tried to translate
the thought, #... advanced mathematics.#, the translation ended lamely.
       "I am sorry," James apologized to the humans through their imps. "There
is no referent known in human mathematics to the phraseology which the two
flouwen used in discussing the topic. I am quite appalled at my inability to
translate."
       "If you think _you're_ dumb, James, how do you think that makes _us_
feel?" said Richard with feeling.
       Little Purple continued to talk. #When I was talking to my primary,
there was a delay between my question and answer, as if my primary were far
away in the water. Why is that?#
       "That's because the laser light used to send messages back and forth to
Rocheworld takes time to travel," replied Shirley.
       #Is that true?# replied Little Purple. #If so, light must move very
fast. When lightning strikes ocean, light always comes before sound.#
       "The speed of sound in water is about fifteen hundred meters per
second, while the speed of light is three hundred million meters per second --
two hundred thousand times faster." Shirley waited while James and Little




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Purple carried on a side conversation to make sure that Little Purple had
understood what the metric units meant in terms of distances and time
intervals which the flouwen used.
       #That is very fast indeed,# Little Purple finally agreed.
       "But the distance between planets is so large that even light takes a
long time to travel from one planet to another, or in this case between
Rocheworld and _Prometheus_. Which is why you noticed a time delay.
Incidentally..." she added. "...I don't really understand it, but I am told
that the speed of light is always the same to every observer, no matter how
fast they are moving."
       ^That is not logical,^ interjected Little White. ^When I calculated
mathematical logic for motion of Barnard and Gargantua and other lights in
sky, that system of logic says that if one object is moving at one velocity
and another object is moving toward it at another velocity, the relative
velocity is sum of velocities.^
       "I would agree with you," replied Shirley. "But I am told that the
logic which applies to massive bodies does not apply to light or objects
moving close to the speed of light. If you are traveling at the speed of
light, and a light beam is sent at you traveling at the speed of light, you do
not see the light beam coming at you at nearly two times the speed of light --
just one times the speed of light. For things that move very rapidly, you need
to use a different system of logic. It's called relativity theory ... and
don't ask me to explain it."
       #A different logic for things that move very rapidly...# murmured
Little Purple in thought. Soon the dark purple body was visibly growing
smaller as it expelled water and became more dense in order to increase its
rate of thinking. #... the speed of light is always the same to every
observer...# The thinking purple blob moved slowly off to one corner,
thickening and becoming more and more purple as it shrank in size. Finally it
settled to the floor of the habitat tank as a deep purple rock -- a thinking
rock.
       Little Red spotted his good friend Richard. *Hey! Richard! This tank is
too small! Get me out of here!*
       "Sure, little buddy!" Richard replied. "Let me check out your drysuit
and we'll go for a walk so you can stretch your legs."
       There was a short pause while Little Red listened to the translation
coming through James. Suddenly, the flouwen emitted a high pitched scream of
laughter that continued on and on as the red cloud literally turned itself
inside out. The portion of Little Red nearest them pushed deep into the center
of the body and burst out the back end, dragging the rest of the body around
with it. It split into an opening flower and continued back around, shaping
the convoluting body into a ring of rotating red jelly twirling like a smoke
ring. Little White, joining in the merriment, also gave a scream of laughter,
and, forming itself into a snake-like shape, sinuously wove its way through
the opening in Little Red's body. After a number of rotations, the red smoke
ring collapsed and the screaming subsided as the alien took its normal blob
shape.
       *Stretch my legs! Little Red _have_ no legs! Richard FUNNY!*
       Richard gave a broad grin in response, then looked up at the corridor
ceiling to find the two-meter-diameter airlock door set in the ceiling between
some air conditioning vents. Standing on tip-toe in his Velcro-bottomed
slippers, he added his long reach to his 195-centimeter-long frame, grabbed
the airlock latch and pulled the door open. This airlock had once been used
for access upward from the hydroponics deck into the first of their landing
rockets, the Surface Lander and Ascent Module, SLAM I. Now, on the other side
of the outer airlock door was attached all that was left of the original
lander, the Ascent Propulsion Stage for SLAM I, that had returned the
exploration crew safely back from their first visit to Rocheworld, after the
nearly disastrous crash of their exploration airplane, _Dragonfly I_.
       Shirley, with the aid of James and the Christmas Bush, had made




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modifications to the airlock to accommodate the flouwen. Inside the airlock
were three strange-looking garments -- "drysuits" -- custom made for the
flouwen by the Christmas Bush. James had modified a standard space rescue bag
made with tough glassy-foil fabric, by adding a spare spacesuit neckring that
held a custom-molded plastic helmet. The drysuits were wrinkled, as if they
had been sucked empty, and were connected by a pair of hoses to electronically
controlled valves in the airlock wall.
       "Everything looks OK," Richard said to Shirley, closing the airlock
door and lifting himself up by the hatchway handholds so he could peer into
the airlock window.
       Shirley turned to the flouwen in the tank. "Are you ready to transfer?"
       Little Red undulated over to a short hose sticking out of the back wall
of the habitat tank. It too was connected to an electronically controlled
valve. Little Red impaled its fluid body on the end of the hose and said,
*Ready!*
       "Pump away, James," Shirley muttered to her imp. Valves clicked open
and the vibrations of a powerful pump started. Little Red was sucked into the
tube in the habitat tank wall, with the electronic valve closing behind as the
last little bit of red jelly passed through the wall.
       "The drysuit is filling up nicely," Richard reported as he watched
through the porthole in the airlock door. "Very little water transferred --
helmet filling up nicely with red jelly."
       There was a muffled mutter coming through their imps. It was Little
Red, talking through the imp assigned to his drysuit.
       *Too tight! All of me not fit in suit!*
       "Squeeze some water out of yourself!" answered Richard. "Remember, you
have to make like a gummie if you are going to move like a gummie."
       *Little Red not a gummie! Gummie's DUMB!* Nevertheless, Little Red knew
what he had to do, and shed water from his cells until all of his body had
condensed enough to fit inside the suit. James aided by pumping the ammonia
water out of the suit and back into the habitat tank as Little Red squeezed
the liquid out. The airlock imp disconnected the hoses, but since a little
ammonia water always seemed to escape that point, it temporarily opened the
airlock to outside vacuum to sweep out the ammonia fumes, then brought the
lock back to ship pressure.
       Shirley double-checked the airlock indicators and finally allowed
Richard to open the inner door. Down from the hole in the ceiling, slowly
falling in the low acceleration, came a shiny rotund ball, with a helmeted
head and three octopus-like arms extending from holes in the helmet neckring.
At the end of each of the glassy-foil covered arms was a three-fingered glove.
The flesh inside the arms and fingers was highly condensed and had a strong
rubbery consistency instead of the fluid consistency of normal flouwen body
tissue.
       "Phew, you stink!" yelled Richard. Despite the vacuum airing the
airlock imp had given Little Red's drysuit, the pungent smell of ammonia
wafted from the airlock.
       Little Red reached a pseudopod down to the rescue bag zipper that
allowed access to the interior of suit.
       *I can stink worse!* warned Little Red, his helmet looking in the
direction of Richard. Molded into the front of Little Red's helmet were two
plastic lenses in about the same position as the eyes of a human. The plastic
lenses focused the light coming into them into two stereo images that appeared
upside down on the red flesh filling the inside of the helmet. The flouwen had
practiced with the suits and helmets during their exploration of the land of
the gummies on the Roche lobe of Rocheworld, and were now proficient in using
sight instead of sonar to navigate their way around in their drysuits when
they were out of the water.
       "Let's go," answered Richard, heading off down the corridor, his long
legs in their Velcro-bottomed slippers pushing off the looped carpet.
       Little Red, looking like a child's punch-toy in its legless drysuit,




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was not as clumsy as might have been expected. The suit had been provided with
a number of Velcro "sticky patches" at strategic points on the bottom, side,
and arms. Crouching down on the bottom sticky patch, and tilting forward,
Little Red pushed off the carpet in a jumping motion and launched himself down
the corridor after Richard in a series of long hops, guided by an occasional
brush at a wall. As they came to the central shaft, Little Red launched
himself over the railing with obvious enjoyment, and started to fall down the
shaft.
       *FREE FALL!*
       "Richard!" screamed Shirley after them. "Don't let him do that!"
       "Stop worrying," Richard called back to her. "He won't build up too
much speed in this low acceleration. Besides, he has no bones to break, and
the glassy-foil can take it."
       "I don't trust that zipper!" yelled Shirley. "Although our atmosphere
doesn't bother him, we are sure bothered by his. It'll take James and me a
week to air out the ship if that zipper springs a leak."
       Richard swung himself over the railing and dove down the central shaft
to catch Little Red before he crash-landed on the bottom deck.
       "There we go, little buddy," said Richard, as he lowered Little Red
down onto the top of the science console. The two looked down and out through
the three-meter diameter dome set in the floor of the deck. Off in the
distance was a double-planet. Its two lobes were so close to each other that
instead of being spheres or ellipsoids, their inner points were pulled into
egg shapes, as had been predicted by the French mathematician Edouard Roche in
the 1800s, who never dreamed that a dual-lobed planet-world would some day be
named after him. To Richard, Rocheworld looked like an infinity symbol
spinning through space. The inner points of the two lobes were separated by
less than one hundred kilometers and although the surfaces of the two lobes
were not touching, they shared a common atmosphere, which could be seen by the
clouds occasionally passing over the gap from one lobe to the other. When the
humans had visited Rocheworld, they had been able to fly their exploration
airplane from one lobe to another, passing through the zero-gravity point
midway between the two massive planetoids.
       One lobe of the double-planet, named the Roche lobe by the humans,
since "roche" is French for "rock", was a dry rusty-brown and had a few sparse
clouds hanging over it. The pointed end of the Roche lobe was heavily fissured
and contained a number of active volcanos. Their calderas could be seen
glowing up out of the darkness of the shadow cast by the other lobe lying
between it and Barnard. The other lobe, named the Eau lobe by the humans,
since "eau" is French for "water", was in sunlight. It was completely covered
with an ocean of water that had a multitude of cyclonic cloud patterns moving
over it. The ocean was unique in that a mountain of water grew up out of it at
the shadowed inner point, pulled upward by the gravitational attraction of the
nearby Roche lobe. The water mountain was 150 kilometers high with a rounded
top, while its sides were sloped at an impossible-looking sixty degrees.
Although the strength of the gravity force varied from near zero at the peak
of the mountain to eleven percent Earth gravity at the base, the water did not
flow to higher levels of gravity, since the gravity force also varied in
direction along the sides of the mountain, and pushed the water into its
mountain shape.
       With the light from Barnard heating up the atmosphere of Eau, the winds
were now blowing up the water mountain, driving the water ahead of it. The
wind-driven swells moved upwards toward the top of the mountain, where the
surface area was smaller and the gravity was weaker. As a result, the energy
in the waves were concentrated into a smaller area at the same time there was
less gravity to keep the wave amplitude down. The swells grew into ring waves
that reached hundreds of meters in height and finally met in a ring-geyser
that fountained up a spray of foamy water toward the zero-gravity point that
lay half-way between the two planets. The bottom of the geyser fell back on
Eau, while the top drifted across the zero gravity point to spawn tornadoes




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and thunderheads over Roche, that dropped salty rain onto the volcanoes below.
       "There's your home -- Rocheworld," said Richard, pointing.
       *Pretty!* replied Little Red. Richard could only agree. After watching
the two co-orbiting gumdrops move slowly around each other for a while,
Richard turned to look at Little Red.
       "Those are the worlds that we are leaving from. Now let me show you the
worlds that we are heading for," he said. He turned and whispered to the imp
on his shoulder. "We'll need the elevator, James." He looked up the sixty
meter high shaft and saw a doughnut-shaped platform start down from the top
deck. As the elevator lowered, James controlled the pace of the descent so
that the hole in the center of the platform passed safely over the humans
moving up and down the shaft, propelled by occasional kicks or pushes against
the handholds in the shaft wall.
       Richard and Little Red rode the elevator to the top of the shaft.
Richard lifted them both up into the starside science dome in the ceiling of
the top deck and swung out the floor support that kept them from falling down
the shaft. Looming large in the black star-studded sky that filled the dome,
was the nearly fully illuminated orb of a large planet surrounded by its
retinue of orbiting moons. The reddish gas giant was mottled with gigantic
white cyclonic storms and weather fronts. Richard turned to look at Little
Red. The custom-made helmet on the makeshift drysuit of the alien was filled
with featureless red jelly, and on the surface of the jelly, easily seen in
the darkness of the dome, were two upside-down images of Gargantua and its
moons. Richard suddenly felt strange, for by being able to look into Little
Red's eyes to see what his friend was looking at, he felt he was intruding
into the alien's mind. Slightly shaken, he turned back to look out the dome
again.
       "That is Gargantua," said Richard. "You call it Warm. It is too big for
us to land on, so we are going to visit some of its moons. You can easily see
the four largest ones from here. The white one closest to Gargantua is the
ice-covered moon Zulu. The blue-white one next closest is the water-covered
moon Zuni. While the reddish one is the smog-covered moon Zouave." He looked
over to one side of the dome, then lifted Little Red a little higher so he
could see too. "The furthest one out is the dry world Zapotec. It is something
like the Roche lobe on your Rocheworld and something like the planet Mars in
our solar system. There are five other moons, but they are much smaller and
hard to see."
       *The Zapotec moon not round like the others, but only half-round! Why?*
asked Little Red.
       "Since we are coming from the direction of Barnard, Gargantua and the
three inner moons are ahead of us and fully illuminated by the light from
Barnard. We are about to cross the orbit of Zapotec, however, so we are seeing
it from the side. The front half is illuminated by Barnard, while the back
side is in shadow."
       There was a brief moment while Little Red digested the idea.
       *Of course! Now I see reason for shadows. Also, I see other moons are
not truly round, but show shadow on one side.* There was another pause. *Cone
of shadow made by Zulu will soon intersect sphere of Gargantua.*
       "Little Red is correct," James whispered through Richard's imp. "The
transit of Zulu's shadow across Gargantua's face will start in thirty-two
seconds."
       "Let's watch it," said Richard, impressed that the immature and
impetuous-behaving alien was also an intuitive mathematical genius with an IQ
many times that of the smartest human. Little Red had reasoned out the complex
mechanics and optics of the multimoon system after just a few seconds of
thought. A dark streak soon appeared on the side of Gargantua near its equator
and quickly turned into a black dot traveling rapidly across the vast expanse
of brightly illuminated surface. It didn't take long, however, before Little
Red got bored.
       *Spot take forever to get to other side! Show me something new!*




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       "Well, let me show you something you don't see every day," said
Richard, pointing to a bright object in the forward starfield. It was the size
of a star, but it flickered in a strange way. "Its getting pretty far away
now, so we'll need a telescope to see it clearly. James?"
       James responded by swinging a telescope out into the dome above them.
Instead of trying to teach the eyeless alien how to use an eyepiece, Richard
merely displayed on a convenient video monitor the image as seen in the
telescope. It looked like a planet with a hole in it.
       "That's the ring sail that brought us here," said Richard. "It's made
of the same material that the sail of _Prometheus_ is made of. The hole in the
ring sail is where _Prometheus_'s sail used to be."
       *Sail on _Prometheus_ very big!* said Little Red, impressed for once.
*That sail much bigger!*
       "It's a thousand kilometers across -- nearly one-third the size of one
of the lobes of Rocheworld. When we left the solar system, that ring sail and
the _Prometheus_ sail were attached together. The laser around the Sun pushed
both sails up to speed -- twenty percent of the speed of light. After forty
years of travel, we finally arrived at _your_ star system. As we approached
Barnard, the _Prometheus_ sail was detached from the ring sail and turned
around so the reflective surface faced the ring sail. The laser beam from the
solar system bounced off the ring sail, pushing it ever faster through the
Barnard system and out the other side, where you see it now. But the laser
light reflecting off the ring sail was focused back onto the _Prometheus_
sail, pushing it in the opposite direction to its travel, and slowing it down.
Because of that ring sail we were able to stop here at Barnard and come to
visit you."
       *And teach me new things.* said Little Red, sober with thought for
once. *The word 'visit' means a short stay. When do you go back to Earth?*
       There was a long silence as Richard tried to swallow the lump that had
suddenly risen into his throat.
       "Our expedition was designed to be a one-way mission that would keep us
busy exploring for our entire lifetime," he answered. "We will never return to
Earth."
       *Good!* said Little Red. *You stay and be my friend forever!*
       "Sure," said Richard, putting a massive muscled arm around the large
alien and giving the squashy body a hug. "Friends forever..." Although Little
Red knew the facts about their comparative lifetimes, the red flouwen didn't
really appreciate yet what those differences meant. To the nearly
indestructible young alien, who was already hundreds of years old -- and could
expect to live many thousands of years -- "forever" was just a very long time.
To Richard, however, who was nearly 50 years old, "forever" was another 40
years of life at best -- probably a lot less...
       *Why is there water in your eyes!?!*
       "Never mind. Let's go pump you back into your tank."
       As Richard was watching Little Red being squirted out of the hose back
into the habitat tank, he noticed that Little Purple was stirring from its
rock-like form in the corner.
       #I have calculated mathematical logic of relative motion,# Little
Purple announced. #It results in very interesting mathematics. Not intuitive
at all. If speed of light is same for all observers as the humans say is true,
then things must shrink in their direction of motion, moving masses are
heavier than stationary masses, and time moves more slowly for moving
observers.#
       ^I agree. Not intuitive at all,^ said Little White. ^Yet, if you say it
is logical, it must be. I must taste that.^
       *I taste too!* demanded Little Red, extending a flame-red pseudopod.
       Little Purple concentrated some memory juices into the end of a
pseudopod and passed the knowledge on to its two compatriots. The memory
juices contained complex chemicals that coded the logical arguments and
mathematical equations that Little Purple had recently developed during its




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latest session of serious thinking.
       ^Very interesting taste -- very logical -- definitely not intuitive...^
mused Little White, mulling over the multitude of ideas derivable from the
mathematical formulas contained in the succinct chemical patterns that had
been passed from purple brain to white brain.
       *Wow!* exclaimed Little Red. *Terrific taste!* Amazingly enough, the
very active, very vocal impetuous alien was suddenly silent and still --
obviously thinking at great speed. Suddenly the Little Red burst into a series
of shrieks and turned himself inside out in exultation at his discovery.
       *E=mc^2!!!*
       There was a short silence on the flouwen side of the window as Little
White and Little Purple thought through what Little Red had uttered.
       ^Of course!^ said Little White.
       #Yes!# exclaimed Little Purple. #I missed that consequence of the
equations. I must be getting too old. My memory is so full of facts that I
don't have any brain left to think with.#
       *You two are too old! You have to be young and big and smart to think
fast like me!* bragged Little Red.
       There was a shocked silence on the human side of the window.
       "James! Did he really say Eee equals em cee squared?!?" exclaimed
Richard.
       The calm deep voice of James spoke confidentially through their
individual imps. "The phrase actually spoken in flouwenese, when literally
translated, would have been roughly 'A quantity of mass can logically be
converted to a quantity of energy with the conversion factor being two
multiplies of the speed of light; and vice versa'. I think that, on the whole,
I translated the technical content quite accurately and succinctly." There was
a trace of a superior tone in James's voice pattern.
       It was time for a shift change. Soon the corridor outside the habitat
tank was empty and the three flouwen were left alone for a while. With no
humans around needing a translation, James bypassed the translation program,
and just kept a record of the flouwen's conversation in flouwenese.
       *I have something to show you, Subset of Clear^White^Whistle. Come over
to the Talking@Plate and I will have James@Server show you the Look@View the
Stiff@Mover Richard showed to me.* The red blob swam to the taste-screen on
the habitat wall, and forming a red pseudopod, expertly manipulated the icons
until a picture of Gargantua and its moons appeared on the screen.
       *After you have tasted the Talking@Plate, Subset of
Clear^White^Whistle, look it too, to see the different colors of the different
moons.* The white creature spread itself against the screen to taste, see, and
look at the enlarged image there.
       ^In my many years of observing Warm and its Pets from the oceans of
Water, I have never observed such detail!^
       *You will soon observe even more detail, for Big@Circle will soon
arrive at Warm! Then we can all leave this small tank and explore!*
--------
         *CHAPTER 02 -- SURVEYING*
       Jinjur showed up early for her shift on the control deck, carrying her
drink-ball. She looked around at the quiet but busy scene. George was at the
command console having a muttered discussion with the lightsail pilot Tony
Roma seated a few consoles away. George, reaching the end of his shift, was
looking gray and tired. The crew had all used No-Die, a life-extending drug,
on their outward flight from earth, which had slipped them through 40 years of
calendar time while their bodies only aged 10 years. George, the oldest person
on the mission, was nearly a century old by the calendar, while biologically,
his age was only 66 years. Jinjur whispered something to her imp, which was
formed into an illuminated comb stuck into her military-regulation afro just
above her left ear, while continuing to watch the two men.
       Tony, in contrast to George, hadn't seemed to age a bit, and looked
just as Jinjur remembered him when he had been the best lightsail pilot in her




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Space Marines Interceptor Fleet -- small, dark, and handsome, with a neat
mustache and wavy dark hair that now produced a curl on his forehead. His
uniform was as crisp as when he began this shift, and his cheerful enthusiasm
for the mission never slackened. From long experience, Jinjur could tell the
two men were talking together, since their consoles each contained the same
image, and as Tony touched his screen, a green dot would show up on George's.
       Although the two men were not more than two meters apart, they didn't
raise their voices to speak directly to each other, but used their imp link
through James. It was partially to keep the noise level on the control deck
down, but mostly it was force of habit.
       Linda Regan was at the space science console, zeroing in one of the
many telescopes on _Prometheus_ on a large facula which she and James were
monitoring on the surface of Barnard. Jinjur could feel a "clunk" through the
deck floor as a port opened under the circular science rack in the center of
the deck, and a deep-ultraviolet spectrometer was thrust out into the vacuum
to collect data.
       Next to Linda, at the planetary science console, the tall, gray, lanky
figure of Sam Houston hunched over the screen, looking at one image after
another which James wanted him to check. The robotic explorers on each of the
many moons of Gargantua sent back many images a second. Most of those James
took care of automatically, numbering, cataloging, and storing the image as
sent, and then using a processed and rectified version of the image to update
and perfect its global image map of that moon. Occasionally, however, the
image would contain some object that was not easy to categorize. The image
would be sent to a human, in this case Sam, with the unknown object circled.
Most of these were false alarms, especially on the more barren planets. But
there were enough interesting discoveries found on some of the moons, such as
Earth-like Zuni which had a multitude of plants and a few small animals, and
especially Ganymede-like Zulu, which had some really strange lifeforms, that
the job of working the planetary science console was usually interesting.
Right now, however, the results of the survey seemed to be boring. Jinjur
could hear Sam muttering, "Nope. Nope. Nope." Jinjur suspected that the images
were coming from Mars-like Zapotec, which seemed to be barren, not only of
life, but even fossils.
       On the other side of the deck, Caroline Tanaka was monitoring the
display on the communications console. The task was almost automatic, since
James had charge of keeping the laser communicators pointed back in the right
direction to the solar system, and keeping the multitude of outgoing channels
full of the scientific data which was pouring into the ship from the
exploration robots scattered all over the Barnard system. Occasionally,
however, one of the robots exploring the many moons of Gargantua required a
decision -- such as what to explore next -- the answer to which was not
immediately obvious to James. On those occasions, the whims of a human, driven
by inquisitiveness and intuition rather than pure logical extrapolation, were
required.
       Nine moons Gargantua kept in their steady orbits; Caroline had mapped
them before leaving Earth, using an orbiting laser-controlled phase-locked
interferometer array which she had designed and operated. She had also
assisted in the naming of the moons, with names the Astronomical Nomenclature
Board had decided should all begin with the letter Z. Before they started,
they knew that they would find the large moons; Zapotec, Zouave, Zuni, and
Zulu, and the five asteroid-sized rocks; Zeus, Zen, Zion, and the
Zwingli-Zoroaster pair that shared the same orbit. Upon arrival at the Barnard
star system, neither she nor the others were too surprised to discover many
smaller moonlets in existence. These were supposed to be given Z-numbers in
order of discovery, but the more creative among the crew were not content with
that, and one particularly tiny close-in moonlet continued to orbit rapidly
onward, uncaring that its name was now Zipcode.
       George finally noticed that Jinjur had arrived. He rose, Velcro patches
on his back and bottom making a ripping sound as he pulled himself free from




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his seat. Kicking off from his console, he floated off across the control deck
in an arc that brought him to a halt near her, arriving just after the galley
imp had delivered a second drink-ball. Jinjur was looking out one of the four
portholes at the stars slowly rotating by. A good portion of the upper part of
the view out the porthole was blocked by the vast expanse of lightsail
overhead. Just below the sail, however, was a large half-moon. Jinjur handed
George the second drink-ball. As George took the squeezer, he noticed that it
was cold on the outside and clanked on the inside.
       "You looked frazzled, so I had James make you a refreshing martini to
help you relax at the end of your shift." She held up her own drink-ball.
       "Coffee," she said, unnecessarily.
       George took a welcome sip of his squeezer. "We've crossed the orbit of
Zapotec at 1650 megameters," he reported. "I have been assuming that we
weren't going to spend one of our last two landers there, so I didn't have
Tony plot a course to match orbits with it. I guess it's about time we made a
decision as to which moons we are going to use our last two landers on -- and
which one we do first."
       "Off-hand, I'd agree with your assessment of Zapotec, but first, let's
go through the data summaries to date on all the moons, to make sure we make
the right choices," Jinjur replied. "Remember, we don't need to land on a moon
to learn about it. We can collect almost as much data from orbit using our
imagers and sensors, and a few well chosen robot explorers."
       She headed for the command console with George following behind. The
other members of the upcoming shift were drifting in and discussing the shift
changeovers with their counterparts. Carmen Cortez took over communications
console from Caroline, Reiki LeRoux took over space science from Linda, and
Elizabeth Vengeance took over the planetary science console from Sam.
       "Boring as hell, Red," Sam muttered to Elizabeth as the tall woman came
to stand beside him while he finished examining the latest set of images. Her
intensely-red hair contrasted nicely with her well-fitting bright green
jumpsuit. "Looking for signs of life on Zapotec is like trying to find placer
gold in the Empty Quarter of Arabia."
       "Or looking for nickel-iron nodules in a carbonaceous chondrite,"
replied the former asteroid prospector as she took over control of the
console. One of her nickel-iron finds -- an asteroid containing one hundred
million tons of nearly pure metal -- had made her a multi-billionaire, but she
had given it all up to come on this mission to the stars. All she had left of
her fortune was a single gold coin, kept in her shirt pocket as a souvenir.
       Jinjur whispered to her imp. "Hook George and me up with Sam and Red,
and bring up the planetary science console screen." James alerted Sam and Red
of the linkup, and soon the four were in conversation.
       "Now, Sam," asked Jinjur. "Which exploration robots did we send to
Zapotec and what have they reported so far?" Sam bent his lanky form in its
trim-fitting denim over the science console, his fingers played over the
touch-screen to bring up the data.
       "During our fly-through tour of the Gargantua system before we decided
to visit Rocheworld, we dropped off four exploration robots at Zapotec,"
reported Sam. "Seeing as how the place is a lot like Mars -- even has a little
atmosphere -- we chose a couple different robotic vehicles. One was the
orbiter _Carl_; it has cameras for global imagery, both high and low
resolution. It's also got a laser altimeter for topography profiles, a gravity
gradiometer for subsurface mass distribution, and a whole bunch of
spectrometers -- visible, infrared, gamma ray, microwave, ultraviolet --
specially directed at finding water and life-associated chemicals like free
oxygen. _Carl_ also fetched along a couple aeroshells which it turned loose
after looking the place over. One had _Wilbur_ in it, a robot plane modeled
after the ones we used on Mars, with great big wings for the thin air. The
other aeroshell had _Pushmi-Pullyu_ aboard -- that's a pair of crawlers
fastened together with a cable on reels, so they can haul each other up and
down steep parts, if need be." Sam's voice changed slightly as he shifted from




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reporting to commanding.
       "James?" said Sam. "How about giving Jinjur a summary report of what
the exploration robots have found so far?"
       Swiftly James produced for Jinjur the desired report. They were close
enough to Zapotec that the communications time delay was negligible, so James
let the vehicles themselves give the summary.
       "Orbiter _Carl_ here," came a sibilant tenor voice. On their console
screens appeared the image of a rocky, barren planet. "After a brief initial
survey of Zapotec from a near equatorial orbit, I dropped the aeroshells
containing _Wilbur_ and _Pushmi-Pullyu_ near the large equatorial rift
valley." The picture enlarged and continued to rotate, taking them on a
simulated flyover of the chasm which not only exceeded in length and depth the
Grand Canyon, but the Valles Marineris. "I then switched to a polar orbit with
an altitude picked so that successive ground-tracks would ultimately provide
complete coverage of the planet under various lighting conditions." The image
changed to that of one of the polar regions. It showed a dirty ice cap pocked
through around the edges with rounded mounds of lava with broad calderas in
their centers.
       "Special attention was paid to obtaining high resolution images of the
volcanic chain ringing the south pole ice cap. During my nearly two years of
observation, a number of the volcanoes have showed activity." The picture of
the polar region switched from a high-resolution cleaned-up view to an
obviously stop-motion view -- where the beginning of an eruption on one of
volcanoes would be caught in one orbital passover by _Carl_, and successive
orbits would track the resulting dust and ash cloud as it moved down wind.
       "Richard's been having fun analyzing those," remarked Sam over their
imp links. "The ashes and gas released have a real effect on the climate,
especially when the ashes cover some of the ice."
       "Preliminary evaluation of the imagery and sensor data produced no
indications of life nor anything else of significant interest," _Carl_ finally
concluded.
       "This is _Wilbur_," came a deep, matter-of-fact voice. "As a
high-altitude robotic plane with VTOL landing capacity, my task was to supply
ground-truth data for the images and sensor data taken from orbit, and to
collect a few samples of anything important that could not be reached by the
crawlers. The atmosphere of Zapotec is thin, but I had no problem flying or
hovering in it. I first surveyed the floor of the rift valley and identified
important points along the rift wall for the crawlers to investigate in more
detail." The screens in front of Jinjur and Sam showed close-up images of a
cliff wall, which contained layer after layer of what looked like sandstone
interspersed with black ash. "After finishing the rift valley, I started on a
programmed spot survey of the planet." The image switched to a close-up of a
volcanic caldera shooting up red-hot ashes, lighting flashing continuously
from the glowing ash cloud to points on the rim of the crater. "I am now in my
second tour, with landing spots chosen to be intermediate between those of the
first survey. Preliminary evaluation of the surface samples and the airborne
imagery produced no indications of life nor anything else of significant
interest," _Wilbur_ concluded.
       "This is _Pushmi_ reporting," came a squeaky voice. "I and _Pullyu_
landed on the plains outside the rift valley and we began exploring at the
locations indicated to us by _Wilbur_. I lowered _Pullyu_ down the walls while
it took selected samples of the various exposed layers." Close-up pictures of
the layered side of a cliff showed up on their screen. "The light-colored
layers are sandstone from ancient dune field build-ups, alternating with thin
layers of ash, and occasional thick layers of volcanic lava. There are no
indications that Zapotec had any significant surface water at any time in its
history. After sampling all around the perimeter of the rift valley, we
traveled south to explore and sample the polar volcano field." There were
pictures from _Pushmi_, of _Pullyu_ being lowered into a caldera, taking
samples off the steep slope as it descended. In the image, the humans could




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see a large bubble forming in the lake of lava far below. The bubble burst,
sending streamers of glowing lava up along the sides of the caldera, one of
which engulfed _Pullyu_. As the lava fell back, it left only the melted tip of
the high-strength polymer cable behind.
       "_Pullyu_ was lost in crater 79 south 120 east," reported _Pushmi_. No
samples were lost except those of that particular volcano, since we divided up
samples after every survey mission so that each of us had a duplicate set. I
have now limited my surveys to safe regions. Within one year my sample hold
will be full and I will need to transfer the samples to the return stage
waiting back at the aeroshell. My preliminary evaluation of the samples has
produced no indications of life nor anything else of significant interest,"
_Pushmi_ concluded.
       There was a brief silence.
       "Hunh," said Jinjur. "No indications of life nor anything else of
significant interest -- cubed."
       "That about sums it up," agreed George. "Doesn't sound like a really
exciting place to visit in person, does it?"
       "Nope," agreed Jinjur. "James. Tell the Zapotec exploration team to
keep up the good work. We'll be back to collect their samples later. Now --
how about the next moon in, Zouave?"
       Just then Arielle Trudeau came sailing down the shaft to take over the
navigation console from Tony Roma. She had obviously stopped by the galley on
the way for some provisions to last her between breakfast and lunch.
       Tony stood and stretched to his full five feet six. "After all the fun
of Rocheworld, that report on Zapotec was something of a let-down. Well,
Arielle, Jinjur says we aren't going to Zapotec, so we'll just maintain our
present course to the inner moons. I don't think you'll need to do anything
for a while except monitor James."
       Arielle didn't reply, because her mouth was full, but she slid
willingly into the seat for the navigation control console. Her imp, sparkling
with color, moved over her ears to form headphones, while one long tendril
moved swiftly and delicately out to remove an errant crumb from her cheek and
tuck it neatly between her lips. The slender hands firmly secured the food and
drink she carried into convenient receptacles on either side of the console
screen, and then lay relaxed in her lap. However, the huge brown eyes were
intent and watchful on the screens. Since she had little to do except monitor
James -- who almost never made a mistake -- she switched most of her screen to
the planetary science images and arranged for her imp to listen in on the
discussion about Zouave.
       "Well, now. Zouave's all covered with smog, kind'a like Titan,"
explained Sam. "Plenty of air, we knew that -- three atmospheres full. And
radar said there was thick ice over the rocky core, but we knew it was too
warm for liquid nitrogen rain like Titan's. There might have been snowdrifts
on top of the ice, or maybe lakes of methane, or ethane, or some stuff that
might wreck a crawler's sensors. So we sent down _Punch_ and _Poke_, a couple
penetrator probes to get right down to bedrock and find out chemical
composition, temperatures, and seismic data. They also took along a couple
high-pressure balloons, _Tweedledee_ and _Tweedledum_. They've been hangin'
around, drifting between surface and clouds, blown from one place to the other
by winds and collecting samples as they go."
       "What have they found so far?" asked Jinjur.
       "_Punch_ and _Poke_ aren't really intelligent enough to carry on a
conversation," interjected James. "But the balloons are. I'll let them tell
you themselves."
       "Ice!" came a high-pitched piercing computer voice through their imps.
       "Snow!" came a slightly lower computer voice with a harsher tone.
       "More ice than snow!"
       "More snow than ice!"
       There was a spluttering from the space science console. The normally
reserved Reiki was trying to keep from laughing, and was not succeeding. "I




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tried to program a little personality into the voice personas, to match their
names. Perhaps I overdid it." The piercing voice dropped slightly in tone as
the semi-intelligent central computer of the balloon became more controlled.
"This is balloon explorer _Tweedledee_ assigned to obtain surface samples of
the northern hemisphere of Zouave. The amount of ice cover I have surveyed is
51.5 percent compared to snow cover of 47.3 percent. Only 1.2 percent of the
surface area is bare rock, most of it sheer cliff faces in the mountainous
regions of the far north. My sample return rocket will be full in 1.3 years."
       "This is balloon explorer _Tweedledum_. It is obvious that _Tweedledee_
has been exploring the wrong hemisphere to obtain the correct ice to snow
ratio. The amount of ice cover I have surveyed is 46.3 percent compared to
snow cover of 52.9 percent. Only 0.8 percent of the surface area is bare rock,
most of it in the calderas of volcanoes just south of the equator. My sample
return rocket will be full in 1.2 years."
       "Doesn't sound very promising, nothing but a frozen landscape," said
George.
       "Any signs of life?" asked Jinjur. There was a slight time lag before
the reply.
       "None," came the simultaneous joint answer from the two balloons on the
opposite hemispheres of the planet.
       "Why are you echoing me?"
       "Echoing you? You were echoing me!"
       "I said 'None' first!"
       "No, I did!"
       "I did!"
       Jinjur made a motion near her imp like turning off a volume control
knob and James stopped transmitting. "Tell them to keep up the good work and
we'll be back in a year or two to pick up their samples."
       "Well," said George. "As we expected, that leaves Zuni and Zulu. And
they are both worth spending landers on, since they both have life-forms which
we'll want to examine firsthand. You can't really learn much about a living
organism by examining a few samples that were punched out of it by a robotic
corer."
       "Well," mused Jinjur. "Since our exploration robots on Zulu have come
across life-forms that use artifacts and seem to be intelligent, then it's
obvious that we should go there first."
       A soft, but insistent voice spoke out from across the room. It was
Reiki, who instead of using her imp to talk through James to Jinjur, was
speaking directly at her. "If I may make a suggestion..."
       When Jinjur heard that phrase from Reiki, she knew that whatever Reiki
had to say might be important and she should listen to it.
       "Certainly, Reiki," said Jinjur. "Suggest on..."
       "Because of our involvement with the flouwen and the star-fish
creatures on Rocheworld..." she started. (Reiki had always disliked the name
'gummies' and refused to use it.) "...and the minutes-long communications time
delay between Rocheworld and Zulu, we have not had much opportunity to develop
a working dialogue with the dominant life-forms on Zulu. Although it might
seem obvious that we should go there first, it _may_ be better to visit the
other moon first. While the exploration crew on the ground are collecting
samples of the vegetation and the animals on Zuni, the crew on _Prometheus_
could be interacting with the Zulu aliens through the crawlers and improving
James's translation programs so that our ultimate visit there would be much
more profitable."
       "She has a point, there," said George. "We'll have to think carefully
about which moon should be visited first."
       "To really determine whether our translation programs are adequate for
a visit, we ought to try them out in real time," said Jinjur. "And that means
getting close enough to Zulu that the communications time-lag is negligible.
James? Get me Arielle..."
       "I listening," replied Arielle.




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       "What course did Tony leave us on?"
       "A trajectory inward to match up with Zouave."
       "Change the target to Zulu." She then looked across the deck to where
Arielle was perched on her chair. Arielle now had one hand expertly flickering
over the touch-screen, setting up the new trajectory for the lightsail, while
the other held the remains of a sandwich of cucumbers and pickled 'ponics-fish
in soured pseudo-cream on pumpernickel bread. Jinjur then looked down at her
console. James had automatically changed the display on Jinjur's screen to the
display on Arielle's navigation console screen. The light-blue line that
indicated their trajectory passed close to the surface of the giant planet
Gargantua.
       "Zulu is closest in," said Arielle through her imp. "If we to match
orbits with it in minimum time, we must go inside Zulu orbit and catch it on
other side. I can choose another approach, but that means slowing _Prometheus_
down and it take eight days longer."
       Jinjur turned to George, who had studied the atmosphere of Gargantua in
some detail during their initial flyby of the gas giant. "Any problems with
getting that close?"
       "I don't think so," said George. "James?"
       "We will be well above the atmosphere. Since we will be going in low
near the equatorial plane there will be no radiation belts to worry about. I
have calculated that the gravity gradients will not cause torques on the sail
that the sail controller cannot cope with, but the strong magnetic field of
Gargantua will cause some eddy current drag in the sail material. That is
easily compensated by an adjustment in the incoming trajectory."
       "Forgot about those little side effects," said George, thankful that
the nearly omniscient computer was always looking out for their welfare.
       "In a few days we be passing close to Zuni on way in," added Arielle.
       "Good!" said Jinjur. "We'll be able to check them both out at close
range before we make a decision."
       "In that case, I'm going to have an early dinner and hit the sack,"
said George back through his imp as he swung himself off the control deck and
up the central shaft to the living area deck above.
         ***
After a few days, their sunlight-powered infall toward Gargantua brought them
close enough to Zuni that they could communicate with the robotic explorers
they had left there without incurring a significant time delay. Jinjur and
George were again together on the control deck, and Richard was at the
planetary science console. Outside one of the portholes on the control deck,
George could see the moon itself, a blue marble with a multitude of
brownish-green dots overlaid with a swirling pattern of white clouds --
looking like a miniature Earth, as seen from the island-dotted oceanic
"hemisphere" between the Americas and Asia-Australia. Zuni was in
three-quarter phase, with a sharp weather front that extended over the
terminator onto the dark side, where its centerline could be traced by the
multitude of lightning flashes lighting up the clouds.
       Richard started the report. "The exploration robots that were left at
Zuni during our first flythrough of the Gargantuan moon system were the
orbiter spacecraft, _Bruce_, to obtain synoptic imagery and global sensor
data; a VTOL flyer, _Orville_, to provide high-resolution imagery from the air
and to obtain samples from areas not easily accessible by the crawlers; and
two amphibious crawlers, _Bubble_ and _Burble_, to explore and obtain samples
from the islands and the shallower waters. One of the crawlers, _Burble_, was
lost during the first year."
       George now remembered the laconic voice of the orbiter spacecraft
_Bruce_ as it reported the loss of one of the amphibious crawlers that had
been exploring the oceans and islands of Zuni.
       "_Burble_ is experiencing technical difficulties. _Burble_ is
submerging rapidly off the southern tip of island 105 east, 35 north. _Burble_
has ceased communication." There was a pause. "All indications are that




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_Burble_ is no longer operational."
       George recalled that he had been too busy coping with the activities on
Rocheworld to respond with much feeling.
       "Right, _Bruce_, you, _Orville_, and _Bubble_ carry on," was about it,
as he remembered.
       "For the global summary of Zuni, I'll let _Bruce_ give the report,"
said Richard. On their screens was now a high-resolution computer-generated
picture that had been built up from a combination of images taken by both
_Prometheus_ and _Bruce_.
       A calmly resonant computer voice spoke. "This is _Bruce_, I am
presently in polar orbit about Zuni continuing my global survey of imagery,
gravity, topography, and remote sensing. Zuni is a water-covered planetoid
3800 kilometers in diameter, a little larger than the Earth's Moon. It has no
large continents, but has a multitude of islands -- ninety-five major ones.
The atmospheric pressure is half an Earth atmosphere, and the surface gravity
is 28% of Earth's gravity. Zuni's surface temperature is typically thirty to
forty degrees centigrade, equivalent to the tropics on Earth. Since the orbit
of the moon lies between Zulu and Zouave, both of which are ice-covered, this
temperature is anomalous. The full explanation awaits further analysis, but
part of the reason is that Zuni is tidally locked to Gargantua, and when
either Zulu or Zouave passes by, their gravity tides cause it to rock about
its tidally locked position, creating heat by internal friction. Since it is
rocked by two neighbors, it experiences twice as much heating. Another
suspected cause is chemical. All three of the moons are too small to prevent
their volatiles from escaping into space. Zulu loses water from its geysers,
Zouave looses smog from its atmosphere, and Zuni looses air and water from its
atmosphere. The escaped volatiles cannot escape from Gargantua's gravity well
and remain as gas toroids centered about the moon's orbital track. Most of the
gasses are eventually recaptured by the moons that had emitted them, but some
of the smog from Zouave and some of the water from Zulu are collected by Zuni.
The water and smog react chemically to give additional heating to Zuni. The
reaction products obviously provide nourishment to the lifeforms on the
surface. These definitely include plant-life, since my remote sensors detect
the presence of complex organic compounds with absorption bands peaked at the
Barnard spectrum, and free oxygen. This has been confirmed by the surface
explorers, _Orville_ and _Bubble_."
       "Those ninety-five islands are all tops of volcanos," added Richard.
"Which really keeps the planet churned up. There isn't going to be much "geo"
down there to do geology on, but what there _is_, is going to be interesting."
       "What did the surface exploration robots find?" asked Jinjur.
       "I could have _Orville_ and _Bubble_ make their own reports,"
interjected James. "But there is so much detailed information to cover, that I
shall condense their findings for you. In summary, the planet Zuni is full of
life, both plant and animal, and, on land and in the water. Certainly, with
only one flyer and one crawler working, not all of it has been found, much
less examined and understood in detail. As expected, plant forms dominate,
with some of them reaching very large sizes, some in height and some in
breadth." As James spoke, single shot pictures flashed up on the screen, most
of them obviously taken by _Burble_ in its traverses of the various islands it
had briefly visited. There was a group of tall trees like coconut palms except
that their canopies were quite large and overlapped. Around one of the smaller
trees coiled a vine. There was a shot of a very dense thicket, behind which
could be seen some stout trees about four meters tall, with some color in
their foliage.
       "This thicket was so thick, that _Bubble_ could not penetrate it to
obtain images of the trees inside."
       There was another tree, like a banyan tree with vertical supports
growing down from the spreading horizontal branches.
       "There are also many plants in the water," added James. "Some of them
rooted in the shallows, usually near volcanic vent fields, and some of them




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floating like seaweed. In the plants live many kinds of small animals, that
crawl, swim, and fly around. Many of them seem to have symbiotic relationships
with the plants. None of the small creatures are large enough to have a
significant brain."
       There was a picture of a small six-legged green-furred animal peering
out from the foliage, a blurred shot of a small owl-like bird with green
feathers, and a picture of six fish with strainer-like mouths floating near a
large underwater plant.
       When James had finished, Jinjur turned to George. "Well, there is
definitely lots of animal life, but it seems very unintelligent," she said.
"The land creatures are extremely small and simple, and the ones in the ocean
don't look promising either."
       "Yes," said George. "It may not be intelligent life, but it _is_ life,
and definitely worth expending a lander on. For one thing, such a wide variety
of living things would be interesting to study. And for another, the climate
and terrain don't seem to be as extreme as on the other moons. Let's go take a
look at Zulu, see if we have prepared ourselves enough to land there, and then
reassess the situation."
       "I agree," said Jinjur. "James. Hook me up to Thomas."
       At the navigation console, Captain Thomas St. Thomas tilted his head to
listen to his imp.
       "Please set our course for Zulu, Thomas," ordered Jinjur.
       "Aye! Aye! Ma'am," replied Thomas in his best military manner, then his
voice brightened up with anticipation. "We're going to get a real close look
at 'Garg' this time! I ought to get some swell pictures." He took a look at
the timing marks on the new trajectory for _Prometheus_ that James had just
calculated for him. "Shucks!" he muttered to himself. "I'll be on navigation
duty shift at the time of closest approach."
       George immediately replied back through his imp. "I'll be glad to take
over your shift duty, since I was going to be here as a bystander anyway. That
is, if Jinjur doesn't need me for anything else?"
       "Aren't you going to be doing some studies of the Gargantuan atmosphere
along with Arielle?" reminded Jinjur.
       "Yes, but since navigation console duty at that time will involve
nothing but watching James control the lightsail flutter, I could use the
navigation console to do both at the same time."
       "Sounds fine with me," replied Jinjur.
       "Great!" replied Thomas. "I should be able to get some _great_
pictures!" He crunched happily on one of his special crisps, enjoying the
crunchy feel under his teeth as much as the super-hot Jamaican spice flavors
on his tongue. With any luck, these photos might be sensational enough to
transmit in his monthly electronic letter to the family on Earth. Although
most of them barely remembered their most famous relative, since he had left
Earth 45 years ago, they were still intensely proud of him, and the letters
were read and discussed for weeks, while the reply, full of all the gossip
from Kingston, was being composed -- without regard to the fact that it would
be six years before Thomas received it.
       "I'll get my equipment laid out now, ready to go. Thanks a lot, George!
I can hardly wait!"
       George couldn't either. It was surprising how interstellar exploration
was a lot like fighting a war. Months and years of doing nothing, then
suddenly there was more to do than you could cope with. And, like a war, it
occasionally got dangerous.... His mind went back to that still horrifying
moment back on their first visit to Rocheworld, when he found himself ten
kilometers up in the sky -- falling headfirst toward the surface without a
parachute. The only thing that had saved his life that time, was Thomas's
expert piloting of the Ascent Propulsion Stage. Thomas had swooped the rocket
around and down, and scooped George right out of the sky, like George was the
ball in the childhood cup-and-ball game. For that, George owed Thomas _much_
more than a mere duty shift switch.




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         ****
A few days later they started their flyby of the gas giant, Gargantua. Four
times more massive than Jupiter, it emitted more thermal radiation generated
by its internal gravitational contraction and chemical phase changes than it
received in heat and light from its small primary, Barnard -- which because of
its greater density, was actually smaller in diameter than its major planet.
If Gargantua had been slightly larger, it too would have been a star like
Barnard -- but even smaller and denser.
       The surface temperature of Gargantua was near the freezing point of
water, which was much warmer than the three degree temperature of the empty
sky, so the warmth from the large globe provided a major contribution to the
heat input of the climatic cycles of its moons. Gargantua had a strong
magnetic field, driven by the convection currents in its metallic hydrogen
core, but its radiation belt was weaker than that of Jupiter because Barnard
didn't emit much solar wind.
       Gargantua rotated once every 162 hours, compared to the 10 hour
rotation periods of Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus. As a result, the weather
patterns in its upper atmosphere were not the multitude of belts and zones
found on the solar system gas giants, but instead consisted of a series of
gigantic cyclones, spawned near the equator, and moving into the high
latitudes, where they dissipated into storm fronts. Except for the scale, they
looked similar to the weather patterns of Earth. Gargantua had a larger rock
core than Jupiter, and its liquid metallic hydrogen "ocean" and its gaseous
atmosphere were proportionately thinner. As a result, the ocean and atmosphere
were affected by the solid surface below. These showed up as permanent spots
in the weather pattern. There were hot spots near the equator which were the
seed spots for hurricanes, and colder areas which depleted the strength of any
cyclone pattern that wandered near them. The larger hot spots were also
identified with atmospheric "volcanoes", gigantic upwellings of gaseous
hydrogen driven by a hot spot under the metallic hydrogen ocean.
       In the lounge on the commons deck, David Greystoke and Deirdre gazed
outward at the alien surface rolling, endlessly, before them. The massive
planet filled the three-by-four meter viewport as the slow rotation of the
sailcraft moved it ponderously by the window, its surface swirling with
gigantic endless storms and pocked with violent atmospheric volcanoes.
       "Needs theme music," said David, more loudly than he had meant.
"Sorry," he said more softly. "All that turbulence and activity, it seems
impossible for it to be soundless. My mind keeps hearing chords, mostly loud
and dissonant..." he broke off at Deirdre's murmur of understanding.
       It was off-duty time for both of them. Deirdre slouched further into
the sofa, her long legs stretched comfortably, while the wide shoulders
relaxed. Her narrow, high-arched feet in the sleek boots were propped on the
ledge in front of her. Foxx, awakened, also stretched, and yawned, and settled
down again on the back of the woman's neck. The imp holding Deirdre's hair
shifted slightly to avoid the animals furry tail, and one of its six "hands"
settled down again on the side of Deirdre's neck to continue its constant
monitoring. David was sitting upright, intent and still. His slight frame was
taut with creation. The music forming into patterns in his mind absorbed him
utterly. The computers he tended with such skill and care would help him,
later, to bring to all the crew a new vision of the gigantic storm he was
watching, as he translated it into a sono-video concert.
       Deirdre remained silent and relaxed. She rarely had much to say, and
the landscape passing ponderously by was absorbing all her attention. _Another
cyclone, starting up from what must be a hot spot._ The comment was unvoiced.
Deirdre's usual tasks, in the hydroponics lab, precluded her spending much
time in the communal lounge, but she found the unfolding panorama fascinating.
       Down in the control room, curiosity and excitement were increasing as
_Prometheus_ drew closer to the surface of the giant planet. The crew,
especially augmented for the encounter, continued to monitor the data being
collected. Off on one side of the deck, Shirley took Thomas through the




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checkout of his spacesuit.
       "Every trip outside involves _some_ risk," complained Shirley, as she
roughly punched button after button on Thomas's chestpack, the rocket pilot
rocking slightly with each punch. "We've got plenty of big cameras in the
science bays. Why do you have to go out in the vacuum with your piddling
little seventy millimeter?"
       "You're just a worrywart," replied Thomas, secretly glad that it was
Shirley checking him out. She was indeed extremely safety conscious. She never
skipped over checklists, no matter how many times she had been through them
before. "The others need the big cameras for the scientific work and they
can't afford time to compose a shot like I can. And I don't want those thick
portholes distorting my pictures." Once more he was grateful that George had
taken his shift so that he could go out. Excitement surged through him -- as
it had so often in his lucky life. New discoveries, new experiences -- always
they had thrilled him, and he had plunged without a second thought into
wherever they would lead him. Now, however, he tried to reassure Shirley. "I
promise I'll stay on the walkway and keep two safety lines on at all times."
       "Be sure you do," said Shirley. "Don't forget that _Prometheus_ is
_not_ in free fall -- it's under constant acceleration. If you let go of the
safety line, she'll fly away from you. If you let that happen, I'll never
speak to you again -- literally."
       With that sobering thought, Thomas let Shirley cycle him through the
airlock. He stepped out the door onto the roughened portion of the outer hull
that was made of magnetizable metal with tiny loops built into the surface. It
was a gray path around the circumference of the ship, normally used for
inspection of the outside seals of the portholes on the control deck. A
similar path led upward to other areas needing inspection. Both magnetic
grippers and Velcro footpads stuck equally well to the gray surface, and
Thomas had both on the bottom of his spacesuit boots. He switched one of his
safety lines to a metal stringer on one side of the path, and the other safety
line to the stringer on the other side, then followed the path around until
Gargantua came into view over the curved hull.
       "Wow..." he whispered softly to himself, his heart pounding in awe at
the sight of the colossal globe nearly filling the sky. "It sure looks bigger
out here than it does when it's framed in a porthole." He got his electrocam
out of its pouch and started taking pictures. Through the sausage fingers of
his spacesuit he could feel, rather than hear, the electronic whistle as the
liquid crystal shutter activated to take the picture, followed by the chitter
of the microprocessor as it compressed the digital data representing the
picture and loaded it into the memory chip. The piezoelectric acoustic
generator that Electropix had added to the camera to reassure their customers
that the picture was _really_ taken and stored was not really of much help in
vacuum. Down in the dark region of the south pole, which was in shadow during
this "season" in Gargantua's 120 day "year", Thomas noticed some lightning
flashes. He zoomed his lens in on them, but decided it was not artistic enough
to photograph. He was sure George or Arielle were using the large spacecraft
cameras to take the shots they needed for scientific purposes.
       "Goddam strange!" Arielle, busy at a science console, sped slender
fingers at high speed over the screen in front of her. "George! Jinjur! I keep
watch on these clouds on south side as we approach and take pictures. Now I
speed 'em all up, and look!" George and Jinjur switched their screen displays
to match hers.
       On the video display, Arielle revealed a massive weather pattern,
spawned about mid-planet and drifting southward, but only briefly. Just as it
was on the point of disappearing into the darkness of the south polar cap, it
rebounded, went west against the prevailing winds, bounced off something else
hidden in the southern polar region, and headed northwards again.
       "Bumped into something? Hidden in the dark, there?" asked Jinjur.
       George manipulated the icons on the side of his screen, and soon,
superimposed on the image, was a computer-generated map that showed the




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slightly oblate sphere of the gargantuan planet with the latitude and
longitude marks indicated in fine blue lines. The shadowed region of the
planet was lightly hatched with gray lines. Near the south pole, inside the
shadowed region, was a large feature in white, with dimensions indicated on
it. It was a mound in the atmosphere, reaching up five thousand kilometers
above the normal Gargantuan surface, and spreading out thirty-five thousand
kilometers -- half as big as Jupiter. On top of the mound was a central peak
as big around as the Earth, rising up another thousand kilometers. George
pointed to the feature, and where his finger touched the screen a green blob
appeared on their screens.
       "That's where I noticed an atmospheric volcano during our first
flythrough..."
       "George always quick to spot tits," teased Arielle. Indeed, the
computer-generated image of the mound looked very much like a woman's breast.
       George continued, "...so it's not surprising the storm bounced off that
region -- there's a constant outflow of air off that mound." They all watched
as James ran the stop-motion sequence again. Sure enough, the storm ran into
the computer generated drawing of the volcano at the point where it gave the
first bounce. "But what is causing the second bounce? There was nothing at
that point last time."
       "There is now," said Arielle. "Lots of lightning. Wonder what it is?"
       "Use our searchlight, like we did before," said Jinjur.
       "Right!" replied George. He quickly reconfigured the screen on his
navigation console display screen to show the relative positions in
three-dimensional space of Gargantua, its moons, and _Prometheus_ -- along
with the shadow cones that they cast, and most importantly for now, the
expanding reflected light beam that came off the sail of _Prometheus_. It
turned out that it didn't take much of a tilt of the sail to make the
reflected light illuminate the southern polar region. George had James curve
the lightsail slightly to concentrate the beam in the region around the
volcano. The newly illuminated portion of Gargantua brought a gasp from the
watchers, some of whom were watching screens, while others looked out the
porthole on that side of the ship.
       "Two tits!" exclaimed George over the comments. Sure enough, where
there had once been one atmospheric volcano, there were now two, one slightly
larger than the other. From hot spots deep in the core, came geysers of liquid
metallic hydrogen that spurted upward at high pressure to climb for twenty
thousand kilometers through the thick atmosphere until they erupted into outer
space. As the geysers rose, the metallic hydrogen, released from the internal
pressure that kept it in its relatively dense metallic form, converted back
into buoyant hydrogen molecules, then atoms, then ionized plasma as the
kinetic energy in the stream was converted into heat. The "tits" of the
atmospheric volcanos gave off continuous lightning flashes as the flowing
hydrogen atoms rose into space, recombined back into hydrogen molecules, then
fell in the strong gravitational field of the planet back onto the upper cloud
layers. Now a very light gas instead of a heavy metal, the falling hydrogen
built up into a permanent "high-pressure" area that slowly spread out in an
atmospheric version of a lava shield and eventually flowed back into the
surrounding atmosphere.
       "Arielle!" commanded George. "You take the new one and I'll resurvey
the old one." The hands of the two atmospheric scientists quickly moved into
rapid activity on their console screens, as they directed James in gathering
as much scientific information as possible during their brief flyby.
       "High res UV photos of interior of caldera."
       "Doppler radar map of flow velocities along flanks..." The mechanical
noises from the circular bank of science instruments in the center of the room
increased as one sensor after another was brought into play.
       Outside in the vacuum, Thomas was walking slowly along the gray path,
keeping Gargantua in sight as _Prometheus_ slowly rotated, his
seventy-millimeter electrocam clicking and buzzing. They were moving so




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rapidly by Gargantua that the planet was changing phase with each passing
minute. When he had first come outside, Gargantua was three-quarters lit. Now
the terminator between the light and dark side cut the planet in half. The
zoom lens moved in and out as he switched from taking an overall shot with
different wavelength settings on his liquid crystal electrofilter, to close-up
shots of a particularly interesting looking curlicue at the tip of a weather
front. When the searchlight beam from the sail swept onto the previously dark
southern polar regions and exposed the twin volcanos, he reached into his lens
pouch for his super-zoom lens.
       "_Got_ to get this!" he exclaimed, changing lenses, and the electrocam
was soon back in action, cramming image after image into its large memory
chip.
       In the lounge, David and Deirdre sat up, amazed. They gazed in wonder
at the two enormous, seething mountains, with their central jets giving off
vivid flashes of lightning.
       The watchers aboard Prometheus, as they took in the awesome sight,
reacted in their own ways. In the lounge, the symphony in David's mind swelled
with organ tones; while outside, the camera in Thomas' hands took on a life of
its own, focussing, shifting, closing in. Jinjur, knowing that all the
possible forms of technical data were being efficiently gathered in by James
and the team of scientists, concentrated on absorbing as much as she could of
the magnificent, total sweep of the sight. Katrina, for once incapable of
reducing to words the unfolding sight before her, was silent, enraptured by
the weird beauty. Arielle's hands occasionally paused and quivered over a
close-up image, as with only her eyes she soared and sailed through that
turbulent atmosphere in an imaginary airplane. Carmen's scalp crawled and
tingled; the violence out there awoke horrifying memories of the earthquake
that had once ravaged her home. Among the many humans, two, on separate decks,
shared a common emotion: in the minds of Reiki and Deirdre there was only room
for joy, and gratitude for the privilege of seeing this wonder. The promise of
scenes such as this was what had lured them, when the mission itself seemed a
dream; and what had sustained them through the long dreary years of
childishness, and illness, before their arrival at Rocheworld.
       Then, quite suddenly, the searchlight beam faded and went out. With the
fading of the beam that had been illuminating the southern region, all of
Gargantua was now dark.
       "What happened? I wasn't finished!" complained George.
       "We have passed into Gargantua's shadow cone," James reminded him.
       "I got good data on new tit," Arielle said contentedly, as she looked
over the new information James had added to its computer map of the two
features. "They need names," she finally decided, and after a brief period of
thought, she added names beside the drawings on James's map -- "Big Ma'am" on
the newer, smaller volcano, and "Great Big Ma'am" on the older, larger one --
while the whole southern polar region now had the name -- "Gudunov Heaven".
       There was a warning gong from the airlock, and an elated Thomas cycled
thorough, his brown eyes sparkling. The minute Shirley got his helmet off, he
started talking.
       "Such great purples and pinks! You should've seen the sunset I got over
a hurricane bigger than Jupiter! I can't wait to get these pictures in my
image processor!" Impatiently he shucked off his suit, shoving the various
parts at Shirley and the Christmas Bush, then grabbing his camera, he headed
up the central shaft to his apartment.
       Slowly _Prometheus_ continued on its way, carrying minds whose memories
would never lose the incredible vastness of what they had seen. The tired
encounter science crew, their senses overloaded to almost the point of
physical shock, closed down their consoles and returned to their own confines,
while the next shift came on to monitor the flight back out from behind
Gargantua to catch up with the speeding Zulu in its close orbit around the
giant planet.
       Jinjur trotted down the carpeted aisle of the control deck, and bounced




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easily up the central shaft of Prometheus, the low gravity provided by the
modest acceleration of the sail as always a satisfaction to her. She had been
intrigued with the thought of what Thomas might have captured with his camera,
so after a quick stop at the galley to get something to tide her over until
dinner, she headed up the shaft to the living quarters decks.
       Thomas's suite was on the same level as hers, two doors around. The
room between theirs had once belonged to Dr. Wang, the ship's doctor. It was
now sealed off. William had died on the long trip out from an infectious
cancer that had attacked nearly the entire crew. He had sacrificed his life by
delaying the debilitating chemotherapy treatment on himself in order to insure
the best treatment for the rest of the crew.
       Reaching the second crew quarters floor, she swung around the railing,
perched herself on her Velcro-bottomed slippers in front of Thomas's door, and
pushed the doorbell button above the palm plate. As was her custom, while on
the way up the shaft, she had signaled James to give advance notice of her
approach to a crew member's quarters.
       The door responded promptly to her ring by sliding sideways into its
slot and Jinjur entered Thomas's room, wedge-shaped like all the rest. To the
left was the standard bathroom, with both the bathroom door and shower door
open. Jinjur noticed that the shower head was up near the top of the shower,
while Jinjur had hers lower down so she could reach it to adjust the spray
head. To the right was the "personal office" area, but instead of a standard
touchscreen console, bookcase, and writing desk, plus a few "shelves" for
storing knickknacks, holoportraits, and other personal items, Thomas's whole
wall was covered with a complex set of specialized instruments for carrying
out intricate image processing of pictures. There were a few small monitor
screens, but nothing like the standard console touchscreen.
       Thomas was standing at the back of the apartment in the "living room",
which had a large sofa on the right wall that butted up to the office
equipment, and faced the floor to ceiling double-sided viewwall that separated
the living room area from the bedroom area. The back wall of the living room
area was a smaller viewwall, set into a fake picture-window frame, usually set
by most of the crew to some favorite "living picture" scene back on Earth,
while the larger viewwall was used for entertainment videos. Thomas was by to
the larger viewwall, examining it closely, while behind him the small viewwall
displayed a large image of Gargantua in crescent moon phase, obviously taken
late in the recent encounter.
       Before Jinjur could speak, Thomas was exulting.
       "They're going to be wonderful! Sure it was dim, but as soon as I
process them, we're going to see..." Suddenly, he remembered who she was, and
years of training brought Thomas to taut attention in the presence of his
commanding officer. "...excuse me, ma'am." Even the laxness of discipline
brought about by their isolation and friendship couldn't erase the basic
training some of the crew had undergone in their pasts.
       He relaxed, however, as Jinjur waved him at ease and began to examine
his photographs of Gargantua. Soon the two were silent, and the pictures were
studied, Thomas moving back and forth from the viewscreen to his equipment to
carefully brighten pixels, stretch spectrums, rectify areas, and combine
adjacent areas.
       "Ummm," murmured Jinjur. "Look at this volcano, just forming. Just a
baby, kind of cute."
       "Some baby," said Thomas. "Considering it's bigger than the Earth, but
it's doing quite nicely, looks like."
       "Kind of a shame we don't dare go any closer, really," said Jinjur.
"But I know the moons will be spectacular enough, and since they have
lifeforms on them, there will be plenty to do there to keep us busy for the
rest of our lives."
--------
         *CHAPTER 03 -- CHOOSING*
       The giant spaceship, slowed by its lightsails, finally matched orbits




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with Zulu. Deirdre had been intrigued with the preliminary reports coming in
from this planet concerning the life forms, and quietly determined to be
watching on the control deck as they approached. She stationed herself at a
spare console next to Sam, who was on shift duty at the planetary science
console, and matched her screen with his. All the biologists on board
_Prometheus_ were, at the moment, connected with Sam's screen in one way or
the other, Katrina from the sick bay where she was watching over John, Nels
from a console that swung out over his regen tank, and Cinnamon from a
portascreen monitor sitting on her lap while she took a coffee break from her
hydroponics lab duties. She was sitting in the favorite break spot of the
crew, the sofa in front of the flouwen habitat tank. The flouwen were not just
swimming around in colorful display, however, they too were watching their
underwater console through "eyes" formed on the ends of pseudopods.
       Sam, who had previously explored Ganymede back in the solar system, was
explaining the resemblances. "'S real simple, how it's made. The central core
is rock, and that's all covered with water. The water is mostly frozen -- all
the way down to the rock. There's some geysers which form lakes that have a
thick ice shelf around the edges. Zulu is so close to Gargantua it's tidally
locked, with the inner pole always facing the big planet. The tidal pull is so
strong that Zulu gets kind'a squeezed out o' shape."
       Tony, at the navigation console, brought _Prometheus_ into a position
where it matched orbital motion with Zulu.
       "Jinjur?" Tony murmured to his imp.
       "Yes?" she replied from the command console.
       "I've arranged _Prometheus_'s trajectory so that we will arrive just
after local sunrise over the inner pole of Zulu, where the two surface
exploration robots, _Splish_ and _Splash_, are in contact with the two
different species of intelligent aliens. That way they'll have the ambient
light they need to transmit up real-time imagery as we talk with them. The
morning sunlight period will last just three hours. There will be an eclipse
period of ninety minutes while Zulu passes through Gargantua's shadow, then
another three hours of daylight before sunset."
       "Should be enough time," said Jinjur. "When is local sunrise?"
       "One hour," replied Tony.
       George, who was standing behind Jinjur, remarked, "We don't need to
wait until sunrise to talk to the orbiter."
       "You're right," said Jinjur. "James, put the orbiter on all imps so
everyone can hear the report."
       There was a slight pause as James set up the connections.
       "This is _Jacques_," came a nasal tone from their imps. "I am presently
in a near-polar orbit of Zulu. I summarize my findings. On my initial approach
to Zulu I confirmed that Zulu is losing air and water vapor at a high rate
because of its low gravity and the large geysers that shoot up hot water into
the upper atmosphere and out into space where they form a toroid of air and
water centered about Zulu's orbital path. Much of it is collected again by
Zulu during subsequent orbits, but some of it drifts outward where it is
captured by the next moon out, Zuni."
       "Zuni makes out best," interjected Sam. "It also collects smog from
Zouave. Richard figured out it's increasing in mass, while both Zouave and
Zulu are losing."
       "After exploring water toroid," continued _Jacques_, "I dropped off
aeroshells containing the amphibious surface exploration vehicles, and went
into a polar orbit where I began with a global survey of imagery, topography,
gravity, and remote sensing of the composition and characteristics of the
atmosphere and surface. The temperature on Zulu is well below freezing
everywhere except near the hot water geysers. The surface gravity is
twenty-one percent of Earth gravity. The day is 14.8 hours long. The
atmosphere has a pressure that is eighty-one percent of Earth pressure and is
mostly nitrogen gas and water vapor, with small amounts of both oxygen and
carbon dioxide present."




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       "You'd expect oxygen and carbon dioxide in the atmosphere if both
animal and plant life exist on the planet," remarked Deirdre. "I wonder if the
air is breathable?"
       "Not for you, li'l lady," said Sam kindly. "Not enough oxygen in it,
although it isn't poisonous like Rocheworld. But we'd need suits, anyway, with
the temperature what it is. Still, with that pressure, lightweight exploration
suits ought to be enough."
       _Jacques_ continued on with its report on the exact dimensions of the
triaxial shape of the planetoid and the variations in the thickness of the ice
cap over the ocean.
       "There are eighteen active large geysers on Zulu. Most of the geysers
are grouped in bands around the two tidal bulges on the inner and outer poles.
These are places where the strains on the crust would be a maximum..."
       _Jacques_ finally finished with its report. "Since the surface
exploration vehicles discovered potentially intelligent life forms, I did not
repeat my orbital survey to improve the data statistics. Instead, I switched
to my present near-polar elliptical orbit where the high oblateness of the
gravity field of Zulu precesses my orbit enough to keep my apogee over the
inner pole of Zulu where the exploration vehicles are stationed. In this
manner I can supply them maximum communications relay support."
       At the center of the control deck, Jinjur looked out one of the
portholes on the control deck at the mottled white marble which nearly filled
the glass. Some of the darker round patches, indicating large lakes of open
water, were now in sunlight. "Is it sunrise there yet?" she asked her imp,
expecting James to answer.
       "Barnard is just rising," came a tiny voice in reply instead. "This is
_Splish_ reporting. I am near the lake containing the largest geyser. With me
are some members of the alien species who live on the ice around the geyser."
       "This is _Splash_," said another tiny voice. "I am floating in a lake
some distance away from the largest geyser. Below me are members of another
alien species which live in the ocean. Since I cannot maintain radio contact
with you while I am submerged, it is not possible for me to put you in direct
contact with the underwater species, so I will transmit up some video
sequences of the creatures taken previously."
       Their screens now showed an underwater scene looking down at the bottom
of a moderately shallow portion of the ocean with reddish sunlight streaming
in from above. At various places along the bottom could be seen small peaks of
grayish pumice stone with smoky plumes of water coming from them, and broad
shallow craters with bubbling sand at the bottom, indicating there were a
number of volcanic vents and hot springs operating. Close to those vents and
springs grew grayish-white bulbs of something that looked like sponges or
coral. Close to them were various seaweeds through which darted small swimming
and crawling creatures.
       "I figure that water's hotter than a hundred C, right there," remarked
Sam. "The only thing keeps it from boiling is the pressure."
       "Some sponges and seaweed I've seen would like that fine," murmured
Deirdre.
       Swimming lazily around each major vent field was a large fish-like
creature with brown knobby armored skin, gill vents, and a short tail. Instead
of swimming fins, it had four stubby finned legs. The head had two bulbous
eyes and a large mouth full of vicious-looking sharklike teeth. Coming out of
the chest area below the mouth, looking something like a goatee, were four
short stubby tentacles. Most of the creatures carried one or more stones in
their tentacles, many with sharp points.
       As the creatures drew near one another in their patrols around their
perimeter, they displayed their teeth and rushed forward to shake their sharp
stones at each other, while at the same time emitting complexly modulated
roars that sounded like two elephant seals swearing at each other. Nothing
much happened at these encounters except the threats, and the participants
usually withdrew and resumed their marches around their own territories.




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Occasionally, one of the creatures would look inward at the territory that it
was defending and spot some small fish or crawling animal which had ventured
out from the protection of the seaweed. Then, it would drop its stone, and
relieved of its ballast, use its four feet as fins to swim inward at amazing
speed to capture its prey. Sometimes the prey looked very much like miniature
versions of the four-legged, shark-toothed fish that had caught it.
       "These are most unusual-looking fish," said Cinnamon, staring at the
picture on her monitor screen.
       "They look a little like sharks and a little like those fish on earth
that were thought to be extinct, don't they?" said Deirdre.
       "Yes, like coelacanths, only sharkier," said Katrina.
       "Coelasharks," suggested Richard who was staring over Sam's shoulder at
the picture.
       "Not bad," came a grudging multivoiced murmur over the imp network, and
the name was adopted.
       "What can you tell us about the coelasharks, _Splash_?" asked Sam.
       "They seem to be semi-intelligent," said _Splash_. "In a savage or
perhaps pre-savage stage. They are obviously solitary and territorial, with
the strongest coelasharks controlling a particular vent field and using it to
feed themselves -- and only themselves. I have not seen evidence of mating
pairs, or of a coelashark taking care of children. In fact, there seems to be
no compunction whatsoever against eating smaller individuals of their own
species. Although they do not have a cooperative social structure, which would
indicate a high level of intelligence, they do use tools. Those sharp stones
that they carry in their tentacles are not only used for ballast, so they can
use their powerful legs to move across the ocean bottom, but they are also
used as weapons when a challenge display turns into a real battle. These occur
when a volcanic vent dies out, or a coelashark gets too large to be supported
by its vent and needs a larger one. The sharp stone can be used to stab at the
throat and eyes of an opponent, or to pry open its mouth if it has obtained a
grip. I have also seen coelasharks change the stone in their tentacles from
one with a sharp point to one with a thin blade, which is then used to open up
a clamshell to get at the meat inside."
       "Using tools definitely shows signs of intelligence," remarked Katrina.
       "In addition to tools," continued _Splash_. "They also seem to have a
crude language."
       "They do!" exclaimed Jinjur. "That's important. Have you learned to
speak with them?"
       "Yes," replied _Splash_. "Early in my explorations under the oceans of
Zulu, I came near the territorial vent of a coelashark almost as large as I
was. It was nearly two meters long, and thicker and more massive than a human.
Other coelasharks had avoided confronting me because of my large size, but
this one attempted to eat me. I pulled in my antenna, stowed my imager and
other sensors, closed my sample hold door, and let it attack. After breaking a
few teeth, it gave up. When I didn't attack it in return, it was puzzled. When
I took one of the fish that I had collected from my sample hold, and gave the
fish to the coelashark to eat, it was astonished. After a while, it realized
that I was no threat to its territory, so it started making sounds at me,
obviously attempting to converse with me. Instead of continuing with my
explorations, I stayed to talk with it and observe its interactions with its
neighbors. Finally, after many months of observation and effort, I was finally
able to converse with it. I have built up a translation program containing
their vocabulary and grammar. The translation program is not a large one, as
the vocabulary of the coelasharks is limited and their grammar is simple. I am
presently sending my most recently updated version through the data channel to
James."
       "Very good, _Splash_," said Jinjur. "James. Make sure that the
coelashark translation program gets distributed to all the computers on the
exploration vehicles and suits so we can talk to a coelashark if we happen to
run into one."




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       "It will be the flouwen that would be most likely to encounter a
coelashark," James reminded her. "I will make sure that the program is
included in the computers in their drysuit backpacks also. After examining the
program, however, I find it is so simple that I suspect that the flouwen, with
their large memory and high intelligence quotient, could easily memorize it in
a very short time. I am now in the process of transmitting it to them in their
tank."
       Soon, some flouwen remarks came over the open imp network.
       ^Interesting. All the words mean food, things, actions, or curses.^
       #Simple grammar. Very simple phrases. Mostly threats.#
       *EASY!*
       The human connections to the imp network were silent for a while as the
humans realized their inadequacies in the face of the greatly superior
intelligence and memory of the flouwen.
       "I wonder what kind of an IQ that takes," mused Richard finally.
       "Since the present flouwen buds are significantly smaller than their
primaries, their intelligence quotient is proportionately lower," answered
James. "I would estimate that the IQ of the buds is..."
       "DON'T SAY IT!" yelled Katrina. "I don't want to know!"
       "Very well, Katrina," replied James, with a programmed note of
contriteness in its usually superior sounding tone.
       "Don't vex yourself," Deirdre comforted Katrina. "It means naught to
us, we've not the IQ to comprehend what a really high IQ means."
       Cinnamon noticed a flicker of activity in the flouwen's habitat tank
and looked up from her lap screen. The three flouwen had stopped looking at
their underwater console, and were now crouched in opposite corners of the
wedge-shaped tank. They had assumed the shape of coelasharks and were making
roaring noises at each other.
       "James!" she said through her imp. "What's going on?"
       "They are practicing speaking like coelasharks," said James. "Now that
they have memorized the vocabulary and learned the grammar, they need to gain
some experience so that they can converse fluently with the coelasharks when
they encounter them."
       "The rest ought to see this. I presume you have an imager that covers
what goes on in the tank. Send it to the others." Almost instantly, a picture
of the inside of the flouwen habitat tank, with its large red, white and
purple versions of coelasharks appeared on her lap monitor.
       "Little Red!" Cinnamon called out, knowing that James would connect the
link through her imp properly. "What are you three doing? Why are you shaped
like coelasharks?"
       Little Red stopped in mid-roar to answer. *James told us how
coelasharks talk! _Great_ way to talk!*
       ^If we take shape of coelasharks, then we think more like coelasharks,
so we can talk more like coelasharks,^ Little White explained.
       "The method-acting school of language lessons," interjected Richard
sarcastically.
       "What's the language like?" Cinnamon asked.
       #We will speak as coelasharks do, and James will translate our words
for you,# said Little Purple.
       ^Some meaning may be lost in translation,^ warned Little White.
       *Especially threats!* added Little Red. *They loudest and most FUN!*
       The three flouwen returned to their corners and resumed their
coelashark shapes. Soon they were rushing at each other and emitting shouts
and roars that could be easily heard through the thick tank walls.
       *Come any closer and I'll _bite_ your leg off!* yelled Little Red.
       #Listen to the weakling threaten me!# bellowed Little Purple in
response.
       ^You're both so timid, you'd belly-up at the sight of blood!^ roared
Little White.
       Aghast, Cinnamon said, "_That_ is the language of an intelligent




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life-form?"
       "At least that answers one question," came Jinjur's voice over the imp
network. "We certainly will be prepared to interact adequately with _one_ of
the alien species on Zulu. Three of us can even talk directly with them
without having to have a computer acting as an intermediary. Now let's see if
we are similarly prepared for the other one."
       With difficulty the flouwen were made to calm down and stop playing
coelasharks, for it was now time for the report by _Splish_, and the flouwen
should hear that too, although in all probability they would not be
interacting with these land-dwelling creatures as much as the humans would be.
       "This is _Splish_," came the tiny voice from the surface as their
console screens showed a computer-generated image of Zulu with a green dot on
it near the largest of the clear water lake regions of the icy white moon.
"The green dot indicates my present position." The moon grew in size as the
view zoomed rapidly in on the lake shore containing the green dot. As more
details became clear, the round lake shore broke up into jagged edges, while
in the lake were floating large icebergs which had calved off the shoreline.
       "Looks just like an ice shelf region in Antarctica, icebergs and all,"
murmured Sam.
       "Except there, you have a small cold ice-covered land region completely
surrounded by a warm body of water, while here you have a small warm body of
water completely surrounded by cold ice-covered land," pontificated Richard.
       As the zoom proceeded, some structure and coloring began showing up in
the region around the lake, which soon turned into a semi-organized pattern of
differing shades of greenish-blue. The zoom came to an end, and the
computer-generated image was replaced by a live picture of one of the aliens,
taken by the video camera extending from the top of the amphibious exploration
vehicle. All of the crew had seen still images of the aliens that _Splish_ had
sent back previously, but it was different seeing one of these bewildering
creatures in motion.
       _Splish_ had learned early in its interactions with the aliens that
they called themselves "coverers-of-the-ice", where "ice" was used in a
generic sense, similar to the way that humans used the word "earth" as meaning
"terra-firma" rather than "dirt".
       At first, when the humans referred to the aliens among themselves, they
tried to use the correct name, "coverers-of-the-ice". That proved too long,
and an abbreviation, "icecoverers", took its place. That still proved awkward
and the name "icerugs" was finally coined. Despite the protests of Reiki and
Deirdre, it stuck. James, however, assured them that the icerugs would never
hear what the humans really called them, for the translation program would
always change it to their correct name.
       The strange being appearing on their screens seemed to be half-plant
and half-animal. The camera was now panning over the large plant portion,
which covered the ice like a carpet, a carpet with a purplish blue-green color
like an unripe plum. Almost an acre in extent, the carpet was thin enough to
reveal even slight contours and bumps in the ice underneath. The fine
plum-colored threads that covered the carpet had a light-absorbing velvet-like
texture.
       "That is certainly an efficient surface for trapping the reddish
photons from Barnard," remarked Katrina. "There must be photosynthesis going
on in that portion of the body."
       "The blue-green plum color is distinctly different than
chlorophyll-green, however," said David, who possessed a color sense as
discriminating as his tonal sense.
       "Probably a similar molecule that works better with red light,"
responded Katrina. "I can't wait to get a sample to analyze."
       Deirdre's eyes shot a green glare at her. "Aye, and would you be
extending a finger of your own, in return?"
       The video scan stopped on the "node", the animal part of the icerug.
The "foot" of the node consisted of a thick plum-colored pedestal about a




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half-meter high, which rose smoothly and seamlessly out of the carpet which it
was riding. On top of the thick pedestal was a spherical "head" the size of a
large beach ball. In the middle of the head was a slit mouth with tiny sharp
teeth that were occasionally visible. Between the head and the pedestal were
four stubby tentacles, most of them in continuous motion, as if the creature
were nervous. Two of the tentacles held artifacts and were quite different in
length, indicating that they were alterable as well as flexible. Coming out of
the top of the head was a large single eye on a flexible stalk. The entire
node, except for the lens of the eye, was covered with the same plum-colored
velvet as the rest of the body. The bright owl-like eye with a pink iris was
staring fixedly at the camera. The eye blinked occasionally by closing a
six-leaved nictating membrane over the pupil. The leaves of the membrane
overlapped somewhat like the six-leaved aperture stop in a camera.
       "Except for its size, the eye looks just like a human eye," remarked
Richard.
       "Or a bird eye, or an alligator eye, or an octopus eye," said Cinnamon.
"There seems to be only one good way for nature to make a video camera out of
jelly."
       "This individual is named Pink-Orb," continued _Splish_. "One of their
chief scientists, with the specialty of astronomy. We spent many months
together while I learned their language. I have built up a translation program
that I believe is adequate to allow you to converse with them, although it is
certainly not complete. Fortunately, many of the words and phrases that are
used in ordinary conversation are honorific and polite rather than containing
any real information, which makes translation easier."
       "A sign of a civilized being," said Reiki.
       "Can we talk with it, do you think, James?" asked Jinjur.
       "The translation program that _Splish_ has transferred up looks
adequate," replied James. "The exploration robot has a small portable video
display screen stored away in its sample hold just for this contingency. I
have instructed it to take it out and display it to the alien. A picture of
you and George is now on the screen."
       The icerug came closer to the small screen. The motion brought a gasp
from a number of mouths.
       "It _glides_!"
       "Look how the skin moves up the pedestal, over the head region, and
down the other side, as if it were moving _under_ the skin."
       "Well," said George. "Since we have a translation program, let's give
it a try."
       Reiki, with her obsession for politeness, was concerned that George
would say something that would offend the alien, getting them off to a bad
start. However, George, to do him credit, treated the strange native with his
usual ceremonial tact.
       "Greetings, great and noble one!" he started. "I am known as Colonel
George Gudunov and this is Major General Virginia Jones, leader of our
expedition. We are humans from the planet Earth around a distant star. We are
presently in the large circle-shaped machine that you see in your sky. We wish
to visit your most magnificent world to learn more about its wonders. We wish
to meet you. We have come in peace, and do not desire your land or your
property. We will stay for a short while, and then must leave again. But we
will leave machines like the one that is there now so we can talk with you in
the future, if you wish. Will our visit be welcomed?"
       The sides of the spherical head of the icerug began to vibrate visibly
and a deep booming reply rang in the ears of the humans. The translation
program on _Splish_ automatically converted the booming tones and simulcast
the translation over their imps.
       "Welcome, great and noble visitors from the most magnificent planet
Earth. I am called Pink-Orb and my people are called coverers-of-the-ice."
       In the sky behind Pink-Orb, clouds of water vapor began to rise up into
the sky.




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       "The geyser is starting to erupt, James," said Richard. "Is it going to
be a big one?"
       "No," reported James. "It is only Zuni passing by, as it does every two
Zulu days. The eruption should peak in about an hour and a half, then fade
off."
       "It will be interesting to watch it from the point of view of someone
underneath it," remarked Katrina.
       "The Munificent God of the Sea awakens," said Pink-Orb, rolling its eye
around to gauge the height of the geyser. "Unfortunately, it will not be
possible to communicate during the eruption because of the noise. The great
Colonel George Gudunov and the Major General Leader Virginia Jones will please
excuse me while I accept the bounty that falls to me." The node moved off to
the center of its carpet-like body, and lifted its eye to the sky to watch the
rising jet of water.
       The geyser rapidly built up in intensity, and shortly after that, a
mixture of rain, slush, and snow began to fall. _Splish_ was kept busy keeping
the lens clean.
       Richard looked down at his planetary science screen, which contained a
high-resolution image showing the geyser from above. "Wow! Look at Big Bertha
blow!"
       "Big Bertha!" exclaimed Cinnamon. "That has to be the worst name for a
geyser man could invent. Big Bertha was a gun -- not a geyser!"
       "All right," replied Richard agreeably. "What _should_ we call it?"
       Reiki added in a quiet, but firm tone. "The proper choice for the name
of something on some other specie's planet, is the name that _they_ choose for
it, not one some human has chosen."
       "The problem," said David, "is that the word is probably a proper noun,
which may or may not have a meaning that can be translated, _and_ we can't use
the icerug word directly since we can't imitate the icerug's pronunciation
without using a synthesizer."
       "Manannan," suggested Deirdre.
       "What was that?" asked Jinjur.
       Deirdre glanced up. "Pink-Orb called the geyser the Munificent God of
the Sea. In Celtic myths, the god of the sea was called Manannan, and the
fishermen asked him for fine rich harvests."
       "Good enough," said Jinjur. "Let's change the name of the geyser to
Manannan. Anything's better than using the name of a World War One cannon. I
like the sound of it, and it'll be easy to spell in the report."
       "There's an accent over the final 'a'," said Deirdre wickedly, "but I
doubt anyone will notice if you leave it out."
       "How did you hear of such a god?" whispered Katrina curiously. "I
always liked mythology myself -- it's fun to allude to those old gods in a
poem -- but I never heard of that one."
       Deirdre's did not look up as she answered briefly. "Curious about my
name, I was, so I read all the books I could find about Celtic mythology. Most
people are curious about their names, aren't they? You catch any mention of
what means yourself, and like to follow up the stories and what they mean. I
once spent some time on the Isle of Man, named after Manannan."
       With a roar, the geyser shot even higher than before.
       "Wow!" repeated Richard, trying to be as sincere as he could. "Look at
Manannan blow!"
       "Better," said Reiki approvingly, giving him a warm smile.
       The spray of rain and slush turned into snow as the geyser rose higher
and the water had longer to fall through the frigid air. Soon the plum-colored
carpet was covered with a light blanket of snow that melted almost as fast as
it fell. Suddenly, something fell to the ground between the camera and
Pink-Orb.
       "What was that!" exclaimed Katrina. "James. Replay that in slow motion
for me." She stared carefully at the screen on her monitor as James showed her
an enlarged view of the falling object. "Looks like a piece of seaweed."




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       "It is," confirmed James. "The spectrum, adjusted for the different
lighting conditions, of course, matches that of one of the many plants seen by
_Splash_ around the volcanic vents."
       The geyser slowed, and Pink-Orb dropped its eye and arms, and started
to return. As it did so, the strand of seaweed resting on the plum-colored
carpet in the foreground seemed to come to life.
       "The seaweed is moving!" exclaimed Richard.
       "No!" replied Katrina. "The carpet underneath it is moving, and
carrying it along like a cork on a wave."
       They watched as the seaweed stalk was transported by ripples in the
icerug's body toward the approaching node, where it was picked up by a
tentacle and carried to Pink-Orb's mouth.
       "It's eating it!" exclaimed Katrina. "Pink-Orb was right to call the
geyser the Munificent God of the Sea. In addition to getting nourishment from
photosynthesis, it must get a portion of its food from the fallout of the
geyser."
       Pink-Orb returned to stare into the camera, the big pink eye only
occasionally blinking when a large snowflake fell on it. Its mouth was busy
chewing on the seaweed, but that didn't prevent it from conversing, since it
talked by vibrating the surface of its "head".
       "I apologize to the great and mighty visitors from the sky, Major
General Leader Virginia Jones and Colonel George Gudunov for the delay in
returning to converse with you. We have no knowledge of who or what you are,
but all the coverers-of-the-ice most urgently wish to meet you and learn more
about your amazing machines, such as the Crawler-on-Ice-and-Water that talks
with us, and the Circle-in-the-Sky that does not fall. If you come in peace to
teach us about these things, you will be most welcomed."
       George looked at Jinjur. "I think, Jinjur, that the translation program
is good enough," he said.
       "You're right about that," said Jinjur. "_And_, Pink-Orb's invitation
is a good enough excuse for me. Zulu will be the site for our next landing."
       The duty shifts changed again, and those going off shift gathered in
the lounge for dinner.
       "If it's to be Zulu, I'll want to modify our exploration suits," said
Shirley, as she finished her dessert of algae-ice cream cubes covered with hot
chocolate from James's chemical synthesizers. "If I add an air concentrator to
take the right amounts of oxygen and nitrogen out of the Zulu atmosphere, we
won't have to carry anything but an emergency oxygen supply to be used in case
the concentrator fails. But, with ambient temperatures low enough to be
lethal, James and I will have to make sure the heaters are in top shape."
       "Make sure they fit right, too," said Katrina. "The gloves of mine are
still too big, and it's hard to make precise cuts for samples, much less pick
them up, with those bulky fingers."
       "That's what tools are for," said Shirley patiently. "You don't need to
use fingers at all."
       "I know," said Katrina stubbornly, "but when you're working with live
animals, it helps if you can give them a comforting pat occasionally."
       Shirley sighed and Deirdre shared her feeling. "I doubt if any alien
animal can interpret your 'comforting pat' as any more than another alien
touch. As a scientist, how can you give in so easily to anthropomorphism?"
       "Oh, I don't, really," said Katrina hastily. "I appreciate how
different they are. I just wish to be nice to them as well." The small
biochemist tucked herself more deeply into the cushions of the communal lounge
and selected another colored strand for her needle. The little basket beside
her overflowed with bright threads, destined to be part of the intricate
pattern in the frame on her lap. "It's not just as scientists we're here,
anyway. It's as people living lives -- and caring about the creatures around
us!"
       Shirley sighed again. This was an old debate. It promised to continue
indefinitely, although Jinjur's firm command kept any unscientific meddling




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with the aliens at a minimum. She herself maintained a brisk attitude of
detachment even from the flouwen, likeable as they were.
       Deirdre had regarded Katrina's attempts to treat Foxx as a cuddly pet
with amusement; and Foxx had handled that situation with cool disdain. Lately,
however, Deirdre had been puzzling anew over their situation. Forever to be
among these, and possibly other strange living creatures, was it not perhaps
better to enter, albeit cautiously, into their existence as much as they
could, rather than to remain aloof and disinterested observers? And yet, as
she knew very well, even the slightest interaction between species might
result in calamity, despite the best intentions of all concerned.
       "The planned and stated purpose of our mission is to explore, to
report, to learn -- lots of other things," said Shirley firmly. "I don't
recall a single mention of -- doing good!"
       The contempt in her tone aroused Carmen. "If there's a choice, wouldn't
you do what's right, rather than what's wrong?" she asked with some heat.
       "Who's to say what's right?" asked Thomas, from the other side of the
lounge. He chuckled. "Of course, if my old Gran were here, there'd be no
problem. We'd just ask her. She never has any doubts!"
       "Old people on Earth seldom do," said Carmen. "But then they still have
a faith."
       Deirdre slid from the lounge as silently and swiftly as a breath. At
any hint of the discussion turning in the direction of religion, she always
vanished. She swung up the central shaft and headed toward her room. Warring
within her were the passionate desire to see these strange creatures for
herself, and, almost as strong, the feeling that they should be left alone. By
the time she reached her quarters, however, the first had won out, and she
flung Foxx to the sofa and dashed off after her in a glorious game of chase,
exulting in hope that she would be given the chance to explore this frozen
world.
          ****
Before the crew could plan their landing, they had to refine and update the
global survey of Zulu which _Jacques_ had begun. Ponderously, the lightship
moved into a polar orbit around the planet, while the humans and James
collated the data from the multitude of sensors focused on the icy surface
below. The north and south poles proved to be like their namesakes on Earth --
at the height of Earth's worst glacial period. They had permanent caps of ice,
many kilometers deep, with the ocean frozen right down to the surface of the
rocky core. At the leading pole, where the air and water vapor from the gas
toroid fell inward on the moon, the ocean was also icebound and frozen clear
to the bottom, but here the ice was thinner.
       David's sharp eyes picked out an interesting pattern on the topography
maps prepared by the laser altimeter. "Look. Here's a series of broad bands,
coming from both the north and south poles," he indicated with a slender
fingertip. "Then they become indistinct at about the equator. What causes
that?"
       "The ice is flowing," replied Sam. "It piles up at the north and south
poles, and then flows thousands of kilometers to the four poles in the
equatorial regions where it slowly warms up and sublimates."
       "If an average temp of twenty degrees below freezing at the equator can
be called warm," mentioned David. "Let's see if that pattern shows up on the
trailing pole." He flipped the picture skillfully. "No, all I see is snow."
       "That's because all the storms end up there, and dump most of their
snow, hiding the ridge pattern. The glacier cap must be really thick there.
The molecules of water on this planet really have an exciting life cycle,"
continued Sam dreamily. "Start out as vapor, falling in from that big ol' gas
toroid orbiting out in space, change to storm cloud droplets that spread out
over the planet, land as snow on the north, south, and trailing poles, freeze
into ice, slide out to the inner and outer poles, then melt to form the geyser
lakes. Geyser heats them 'til they're vapor again, and squirts them back out
into space to form the gas toroid again."




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       Thomas, doing his regular stint of duty as lightsail pilot, usually had
little to do at the navigation console, so he spent a good deal of his time
engaged in astrodynamics studies. Using the powerful radar on _Prometheus_, he
checked the exact position of a transponder that he had left on the surface of
Rocheworld and one that he had in an orbiter close to Gargantua, and plotted
two more points on a graph which he had been building up since they had
arrived at Barnard. Each successive point was approaching closer and closer to
an integer line on the graph. He grunted in satisfaction at the result. The
ratio of the period of Gargantua's circular orbit around Barnard, to the
period of Rocheworld's elliptical orbit around Barnard, to the co-rotation
period of the two lobes of Rocheworld about their center of mass was exactly
480:160:1 -- now to better than _one_ part in fifteen places. Every third
orbit, Rocheworld came close to Gargantua, where the gravitational pull of the
giant planet added just enough energy and angular momentum to compensate for
the tidal losses, locking the three periods to each other.
       He also checked the transponders on the penetrators which he had placed
on the two small inner moons of Gargantua -- Zwingli and Zoroaster. Zwingli,
32 kilometers in radius, was in an orbit that was 40 kilometers lower than
Zoroaster, which was 30 kilometers in radius. Since the 40 kilometer
difference in the orbits was less than the 62 kilometer sum of the moon radii,
it would be expected that they would collide. But as Zwingli, traveling faster
according to the laws of orbital dynamics, would overtake the slower
Zoroaster, their joint gravitational interaction would slow Zoroaster even
more, sending it outward, while Zwingli's speed was increased, sending it
inward, just enough so the two avoided a collision. After they had passed, the
gravitation attraction was reversed, restoring the two moons to their original
orbits.
       "Hmmm," mused Thomas, looking at the data. "Looks like they will be
keeping up that do-si-do for another few hundred thousand years at least."
       He then took a look at the dynamics of the whole Barnard system by
bringing up a computer simulation and running the planets and moons back and
forth in time at high-speed. Suddenly, he stopped the motion at a particular
point.
       "That's right!" he said to himself as he noticed a certain
configuration of the moons around Gargantua. "Nearly forgot that event was
coming up, because of all the excitement about meeting Pink-Orb." He set up
his screen and asked James to connect him with George and Jinjur at the
control console.
       "Yes, Thomas?" replied Jinjur through their imp link.
       "I almost forgot to mention it -- although I'm sure James would have
mentioned it soon if I hadn't -- there is going to be a quadruple conjunction
about twenty-six hours from now. That should produce an extremely high tidal
stress on Zulu and activate all the geysers, especially Manannan at the inner
pole."
       "Quadruple conjunction?" queried Jinjur.
       "Well," said Thomas. "Technically, from the viewpoint of someone on
Gargantua, it's a triple conjunction and an opposition. Three moons will be
lined up on one side of Gargantua, while Barnard will be on the other side of
Gargantua. Copy my screen and I'll show you." James set up a copy of Thomas's
display on Jinjur's command console, and Thomas ran the moons and planets
through their motions.
       "First," he said. "Zulu, in its 14.7 hour orbit, will be catching up
with Zuni in its 29.9 hour orbit, as it does every 28.9 hours or about once
every two Zulu days. This joint conjunction of the two moons causes most of
the tidal action on Zulu, an eight meter pulse tide that lasts for
three-and-a-half hours. At the same time, they both will be catching up with
Zouave in its 48.3 hour orbit. This triple conjunction will add Zouave's two
meter high tide on top of the eight meter Zulu tide. In addition, all this
will occur at high noon, so Barnard will be lined up with the three moons, but
on the other side of Gargantua. In any case its three-to-four meter tide will




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be added to all the others, for a total tide of some fourteen meters. On Earth
we only see tides like that at the Bay of Fundy. That pull outward on the
inner and outer poles should produce a very large strain on the crust,
activating all the geysers."
       "Wait a minute," said Katrina, who had been listening in from her
planetary science console. "Zuni and Zouave are orbiting further out than
Zulu, and are going over the outer pole. I can see their gravity pulling up
the outer pole region -- but shouldn't they pull _in_ on the inner pole
region, not outward?"
       "You're right that gravity pulls, Katrina," explained Thomas. "But
since the rocky core of Zulu is in free fall, it _too_ is pulled by the outer
moons -- pulled right out from under the water and ice on the inner pole --
which being further away from the outer moons, is not pulled as much as the
core. From the viewpoint of someone on Zulu, the net effect is an outward pull
on both the inner and outer poles, producing two bulges. That's why the tides
come twice a day on Earth."
         ****
A day later, everyone was awake to watch the quadruple conjunction. Tony had
put _Prometheus_ into a powered elliptical orbit with its apogee within sight
of the inner pole so they would stay in sight of the geysers during most of
the eruption period, yet the sail stayed outside the shadow cone of Gargantua
so it could illuminate the geyser during the noon-day eclipse period when
Barnard went behind Gargantua. Tony remained at the navigation console past
the normal end of his shift partially to make sure _Prometheus_ kept its beam
pointed at the right geyser, and partially to free up Thomas to take pictures
from outside.
       Everyone else, plus the flouwen in their tank, was watching the view
from the big telescope in the science bay Linda was operating. She also
arranged to capture the infrared version in the multispectral imager.
       Shirley was at one of the porthole windows, keeping one eye on Thomas
walking around the outer hull, and one eye on Gargantua, whose immense
presence nearly filled the window of the porthole. Zouave had long ago
disappeared into the shadow cone of Gargantua, and Zuni had soon followed.
Both were barely visible dark gray ghosts in the black sky, dimly illuminated
by the light scattered from the cloud-tops around Gargantua's rim. Just then,
the moon below them faded and went out as it entered Gargantua's shadow. Only
one small spot on the surface was illuminated.
       "Zulu is within forty minutes of conjunction," reported Shirley.
       "There was already activity at each of the geysers before we entered
shadow," responded Richard.
       Shirley noticed that Thomas was hanging over the safety stringer,
camera in action. She looked down with her modest human eye, trying to see
what Thomas was seeing through his zoom lens. Through the shifting clouds of
water vapor remaining from the preliminary activity, she could barely discern
the round dark geyser lake area on the mottled gray-white surface. Looking
curiously artificial, the black spot was in reality, she knew, a lake of
water, kept melted by the furious heat coming up from the core of the
planetoid. Frustrated by the inadequacy of her eyes, she left the porthole
window and went to look at the telescope image of the Manannan geyser like
everyone else.
       They all watched, almost breathless, as the water vapor clouds over the
lake thickened and increased as the geyser erupted. Rising toward them,
clearly visible, and with an almost solid shape of its own, was a column of
boiling water. Swiftly it ascended, becoming thicker as it rose, until the
awed observers were able clearly to see that the water was now tens of
kilometers above the surface. At the height of the eruption, huge quantities
of water began to fall back toward the surface, blown by the eddying winds far
from the parent pool, changing to cool water nearby, and farther out to sleet,
and farthest away of all, to snow. For nearly thirty minutes the incredible
flow boiled up, was transformed, and fell back to the ice. Finally, slowly,




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the jet of water began to lower, although still spewing forth vast volumes of
hot water onto the air, the water vapor rising into space and the liquid water
falling on the surrounding countryside. Almost reluctantly, the giant geyser
subsided, grumbling, and finally returned to the surface of the lake, bubbling
violently in its final spasms of activity.
       No one wanted to speak. From inside the flouwen habitat tank, Little
Red broke the silence with a very small, soft, *Wow!*
       George and Jinjur chuckled. "That's the word, all right."
       The quadruple conjunction maximum geyser eruption was over, not to
occur again for 68 Earth days -- or 111.5 Zulu days, for the next eruption
would occur at local midnight, when Barnard would be behind Zulu, but
illuminating Gargantua, so instead of having to use _Prometheus_, the geyser
would be fully illuminated, although weakly, by planetlight from the giant
planet.
          ****
One of the things which had to be decided was where the lander would set down.
Since much of the area around Manannan geyser was covered with bodies of
coverers-of-the-ice, this required some negotiation with the icerugs.
       Those on the bridge listened, totally absorbed and bemused, to the
conversation between James, the robot crawler _Splish_, and the icerug
Pink-Orb.
       "When the humans come down out of the sky to visit your world, they
will be arriving in a machine that rides on a strong wind made of flame. It
will be putting forth a very loud noise, great heat, and a strong hot wind,"
explained James. "You must tell us of an area near you where the noise and
heat and strong hot wind will do no harm."
       "Could have been more tactfully requested," grumbled George, and Reiki,
listening, agreed silently.
       "I understand," said the deep booming voice.
       "When you have selected a suitable landing site, you will take the
Crawler-on-Ice-and-Water to that place so it can direct the humans to it."
       "I understand," came the alien response.
       George swiveled in his chair, glanced at Reiki, and instantly
understood her look of dismay. Firmly overriding James George spoke in his
slowest, most orotund bass: "We come to share knowledge of our world and
knowledge of yours. We are glad to know that you exist, as we do, and we
intend to do only good as we meet and converse. We are extremely grateful for
the opportunity to visit your world, which is so different from anything we
have ever seen before. Please show our machine a place where our lander will
not hurt or annoy you or the others of your..." he thought desperately for a
word "...kind," he concluded rather lamely. There was a brief delay.
       "I understand," was the laconic response of the strange being.
       "It understands," added _Splish_'s tiny computer voice.
       "Oh, well, I felt better for it," muttered George, and grinned at
Reiki's smile of approval.
          ****
Selecting the ten members of the exploring crew was Jinjur's job as Commander
of the Barnard Star Expedition. Although she outranked George, she valued his
judgement highly, and had no hesitation in talking over the possibilities
before each mission.
       "Got to have good pilots for the rocket lander and the _Dragonfly_
airplane, of course. I thought Arielle for this one." In fact, Arielle was
usually selected, for the sound reason that she was simply the best pilot
aboard. Her diminutive frame and elfin looks concealed a cool and calculating
calm, which, with training and experience, had made her able to deal with any
crisis in flight as easily as a bird shifts its wings.
       "Several of the others are competent pilots too, of course. Shirley,
then, and Thomas, and Cinnamon. Shirley's good at coping with repairs, if
needed, and Thomas is almost as good a lander pilot as Arielle."
       "Besides, think of the pictures he'll get!" added George.




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       "Yeah, we'll have to limit him on the amount of camera stuff he can
take along, or he'll have the lander full," agreed Jinjur. "Cinnamon's
ichthyology training just might be a good thing to have along for
understanding the coelasharks. I'm including Katrina for her biology
background, as well as filling the primary medic slot for the ground crew."
       "I suggest both Sam and Richard for this excursion, too, Jinjur," said
George. "As geoscientists with experience on the ice-moons Ganymede and
Callisto, they're the best people to get a real understanding of this place.
All that ice, and all those boiling geysers! They'll have a great time."
       "Sounds good," said Jinjur. "And David to coddle the computers, if they
need it, and they might in those temperatures. And Deirdre -- this will be her
first chance at exploring. Her knowledge of biology and exotic zoology make
her a natural for trying to figure out the workings of the coelasharks and the
icerugs. She also might be able to teach them some hydroponics."
       Privately, George doubted that Deirdre would presume to try to teach
anything foreign to the natives -- she had always been such a cool observer of
life around her, but he dismissed the thought for the much more interesting
one of whether or not he, himself, might go.
       "With Cinnamon, Katrina, and Deirdre on the landing party, Nels will
have no one to run the hydroponics deck," George reminded her. "Should we
really send all of them?"
       "With Nels to direct me, I can handle the routine work on the
hydroponics deck with the Christmas Bush motile," reminded James.
       "Well, that fills up the slots on the exploration team -- except for
the commander slot," said Jinjur.
       There was a long and pregnant pause.
       "Well, George," said Jinjur, grinning warmly at the hopeful face. The
two had shared a great deal over the years, and he didn't really need to look
so blatantly wishful. "One of us has stay on _Prometheus_ to mind the store,
both of us would love to go down to visit Zulu, and each of us has had a
chance to go on one of the two previous missions. So, for this one we'll
choose scientifically as hell..." George looked puzzled, but almost instantly
grinned. He knew this woman very well indeed.
       "We'll use statistical science," declared Jinjur, producing a gold coin
from her tightest pocket. "I borrowed this from Red. It's the only one on
board. Heads or tails?"
       George left the control room, almost literally walking on air. Jinjur
would have the fun of telling everyone the chosen roster, but he certainly
didn't begrudge her that. He'd also succeeded in not being envious, when she
commanded the return to Rocheworld, six months ago. But he was jubilant at his
luck, and busily running over in his mind all the necessary preparations that
must be made for the landing.
       Dropping down the central shaft, he nearly collided with Arielle and
David, who were ascending. They looked at him searchingly, but were silent.
Briefly, George considered waiting for Jinjur to notify them both officially
of their selection, and then compromised by giving them a hugely meaningful
grin and wink. The pair responded with equally silent leaps of joy, and their
personal imps, monitoring all this physical activity without verbalization,
made a notation in the section of memory James had reserved for the task of
trying to understand the logic of human behavior. So far, the giant computer
was still baffled by many of the things that humans did. The three then went
to the airlock in the ceiling of the hydroponics deck to check over the lander
they were going to be using.
       "And make sure everything is in good shape," George reminded them
unnecessarily. "Nothing like an eyeball check, although of course James..." He
stopped. They all knew James and the Christmas Bush had the lander, as well as
all the rest of the equipment, under constant scrutiny and maintenance.
       The others selected for the mission reacted according to character. As
predicted, Thomas immediately began the arduous task of choosing which
electrocameras and lenses were the most vital, most impervious to cold, and




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most dependable. Reluctantly, he abandoned the quick idea of bribing some of
the others out of their allotted space on the lander. Suddenly excitement hit
him. Of all things, he loved seeing something new, and what could be newer
than this peculiar planet? He left his room and went down to the galley to get
a snack. While practically dancing through the lounge, he met Katrina,
bouncing along in her own glee.
       "You, too?" she cried. With mutual whoops, they seized each other
firmly and spun in a wild polka, around and around the large lounge until they
were both breathless. With an enthusiastic hug they parted, Thomas heading for
the galley while Katrina shot up the central shaft to the hydroponics deck.
She found Cinnamon, joyfully congratulating herself with a song, but Deirdre
was gone.
       In her own comfortable quarters on the deck below, Reiki was listening
to Deirdre in one of her rare moments of volubility. As always, when excited,
the pure Irish of Deirdre surfaced, and she practically chanted as she
revelled in the thought of an adventure. "I'll be out on the surface of a new
world! I've been hoping, and wishing for this chance so _hard_, Reiki! Even
dreaming of it, I've been, in my dreams I'm wandering in castles of ice and
snow -- of course that's just fancies, as the dreaming mind would see, but
what I'll be seeing will be real, and strange, and unearthly like nothing else
I've ever seen! Dennis and I talked, hours sometimes, of what we'd see, and
find out, when we finally got the chance we knew would come to travel to the
stars, and explore strange worlds, and touch new creatures! And I wasn't
selected for Rocheworld, but I knew the luck would come, and it has, it has!
Fierce, I'm feeling, Reiki, fierce and tingly and proud -- what shall I see,
down there? What discoveries shall I make? Dennis would love this -- he _does_
love it! and shares it, as he is -- he is part of my pride, and my joy, as he
is still part of myself -- this world is frozen and desolate, James says, but
there is life there! Intelligent life! World of ice or no, _I_ am burning,
it's all I can do to keep from exploding!" Reiki was touched. Deirdre rarely
mentioned Dennis, or the passionate love they had shared with wild intensity
until his tragic death. Reiki knew only that it had been enough for Deirdre,
so completely engulfing and satisfying that, after her mourning time, she had
looked at herself, and concluded that she needed no more. She enjoyed, as did
Reiki, the work that she did and the life she lived; and together they derived
much entertainment from the behavior of the rest of the crew, but Deirdre's
heart was forever, now, her own.
       "Grand it'll be to step off our ladder onto this planet! What will it
feel like, on that ice? How can it be that thinking beings can survive, could
even have come to exist, in such hostile and harsh conditions? Will they be
able to tell me how, and when, and what they have done..."
       Still bubbling quietly within herself with joy, Deirdre left Reiki's
quarters and bounded down the central shaft to the galley. Here, the galley
imp prepared most of the crew's meals on demand, utilizing the products of the
hydroponics lab, and occasionally putting together one of the "special" meals
for a crew member; either one containing some rare spice or preserved food the
humans had selected before leaving earth, or one containing their "real meat"
ration for the week, using fresh meat obtained from one of the fish tanks, or
one of the tissue cultures carefully tended by Nels and his crew on the
hydroponics deck, such as "Ferdinand", "Lamb Chop", and "Chicken Little".
       There were, however, some supplies kept on hand for those who fancied
doing a bit of cooking on their own; Nels, among them, was an excellent chef.
Possibly the most frequent user of the galley, however, was Deirdre; it was
her delight to perfume the entire ship with the wonderful aroma of baking
bread, or gingerbread, or chocolate cookies. Of course, James soon eradicated
every trace of scent, but by then most of the crew would have followed their
own noses eagerly, to share in the freshly-made good things. The algae,
yeasts, and cultures of the hydroponics lab were transformed, in these
bakings, and tasted marvelously of home and hearth. On this occasion, with
Deirdre still wildly though privately celebratory, the result was a huge pan




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full of fat cinnamon rolls, steaming gently through their heavy cloak of
melted sugar. By the time they were ready, there were people prowling about
the door of the tiny galley, waiting; the last of the fragrant treats was
blissfully consumed before it had cooled. Not much was said; Deirdre's ribs
ached from the hugs, and the green eyes glowed.
       Calmer, now, she dove silently up the central shaft and slipped into
the empty corridor leading to the flouwen habitat tank. Stretching long
fingers over the surface of the glass, she sang softly, her voice trilling a
long series of numbers in time and rhyme to a complex tune full of trills and
grace notes.
       "Three point one four one five nine, two six five three five eight
nine, seven..."
       One idle Sunday back at the university, she had managed to put the
first hundred digits of pi to a tune -- and with the tune to assist -- had
soon memorized it. In this manner, Deirdre shared the ability of her druid
ancestors, who had passed their history on from generation to generation by
rote memorization.
       Upon hearing the song, the milky-white drifting shape within the tank
came closer, and joined in for the remainder of the tune. When they finished,
they switched to a tune the two had recently created together. This song
recited the first sixty-four numbers that represented pi in the octal system
-- the base eight numbering system that the flouwen preferred.
       "Th-r-ree point one one oh th-r-ee s-e-v-v-e-n-n, f-f-i-v-e f-f-i-v-e
t-two f-f-ou-r t-two..." the two sang together, giving each word a trill with
the number of stops equal to the number that the word represented, as was the
flouwen custom. Little White's multitoned voice also gave each number a set of
overtones that were distinctive as violin, bell, and drum. The number seven
emanating from Little White's body sounded as if it were a multiply-harmonic
septuple-tongued trilling chord emitted by a living pipe-organ -- which it
was. Little White and Deirdre had shared their fondness for the rigid
preciseness, yet apparent randomness of transcendental numbers ever since the
first tentative effort on Deirdre's part had elicited an enthusiastic response
from the white flouwen, who was impressed that a mere human could display such
a memory feat, but Deirdre had spoken of it to no one. After they had finished
their second duet, her delight soared again, and she whispered, "I'll be going
along with you to Zulu, Little White!"
       ^Good! When do we leave?^ said the flouwen.
       Deirdre chuckled, and said, "I don't know, it's not been decided, but
we _will_ go, and how can I keep from singing?" The phrase hit her memory,
and, still softly, her voice rose in the clear pure notes of an old song,
gliding effortlessly through the Celtic grace-notes and accents:
       "It sounds an echo in my soul..."
       Little White's voice blended in, in gentle chords, and David, silent
just outside the doorway, felt the hairs rise along the back of his neck. He
had known for years that Deirdre sang, but he also knew, somehow, that if he
ever spoke of it, he'd never hear her sing again: so now, as always, he
listened without daring to breathe, and slid silently out of sight when she
stopped, quieted by her own music.
--------
         *CHAPTER 04 -- LANDING*
       Now that the destination had been decided, the entire crew of
Prometheus moved smoothly into a routine that assured nothing was left
unplanned. Reiki, David, and Arielle spent their working hours on Surface
Lander and Ascent Module III. SLAM III had been named "_Victoria_" after the
one ship in Magellan's initial fleet which had made it all the way around the
globe and back to Spain again. This powerful chemical rocket was designed to
take the crew down to explore the surface and back up again to _Prometheus_ at
the end of the mission. It was shaped like a tall cylinder, with four descent
engines and two main cryogenic tanks which now held liquid hydrogen and liquid
oxygen, recently electrolyzed from water taken from the consumables tanks on




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the top decks of _Prometheus_. Until it was activated, _Victoria_ had been
waiting its turn, silent and empty, upside down on the top of the hydroponics
deck. Although its condition had been monitored ceaselessly by James over the
decades, and repairs made as necessary, it was nevertheless important that
everything onboard the lander was in top condition. Assisted by the Christmas
Bush, the three humans double-checked every command _Victoria_'s computer
could expect, and every mechanical action which resulted from the commands.
       In a long slender crease that ran down the SLAMs length, nestled the
Surface Excursion Module, Arielle's beloved aerospace plane, _Dragonfly III_.
Arielle checked out its flight controls, while David took the computer
hardware and software through its selfcheck procedures, and Shirley exercised
the life support subsystems while monitoring the Christmas Branch as it
checked the exterior of both the SLAM and the SEM.
       Later, while replenishing her energies with a sandwich, Arielle
encountered Deirdre, and smiled happily.
       "Maybe geysers make updrafts, and we can have ride down there!"
       "Like a hot-air balloon, would it feel?" asked Deirdre.
       "More like roll-coaster -- swoooop!" Arielle's free hand described an
impressive curve through the air. Deirdre's own smile was less enthusiastic.
       Thoughtfully she returned down through the SLAM III airlock and went to
the corridor where the flouwen were swirling in their tank. Caroline, with the
assistance of James and the Christmas Bush, was modifying the flouwen
drysuits, with much advice being given them by the flouwen themselves. She was
adding the communications equipment which would be needed to ensure that when
the flouwen were deep under the ocean or ice, they could stay in contact with
_Prometheus_ and the exploration vehicles, as well as any humans outside on
the ice. That meant installing an underwater sonar transmitter and multimode
communications software, which would provide a high reliability link to a
sonar-to-radio transponder floating on the surface of a nearby open body of
water, which in turn would provide a radio link to one of the communication
relay spacecraft above.
       ^Make sure we can talk to everyone,^ said Little White.
       #Not just each other, but humans too, when we go below surface.#
       "The underwater relay system is built right into the backpack of your
drysuits; you can just speak as you usually do," Caroline promised.
       ^And we can hear like we do here too?^ Little White had no desire to
lose contact with his human friends.
       "Even while you are swimming at the bottom of the ocean, you will be in
close touch with James and all the humans, through sound if not sight,"
Caroline reassured them. "It will even work in the dark, so you can keep
working away at collecting data day and night."
       Little Red was not quite so pleased. *We not work _all_ the time! We
play some time! Geysers sound like fun place to play!* Deirdre admonished him
in stern tones. "You'll be doing nothing of the sort! It would be terrible bad
if you got caught in that thing -- sucked up and tossed out like a wee toy --
helpless and all..."
       Little Red was undismayed. *Surf back down!*
       Josephine, the computer persona of _Victoria_, was endlessly patient,
as the various members of the crew plied her with questions and requests. With
precision, she used her Christmas Branch to shift and stow the oncoming bulk
of supplies for the most efficient use of her capacity. Programmed by Reiki
with the voice of a kindly British nanny, she made use of the indirect
question when a dubious suggestion was made.
       "But, Richard, if you bring along your own favorite trenching tool, and
Sam brings his, you'll be duplicating one item unnecessarily, won't you? And
that's what we're trying to avoid, isn't it?" The descending inflection was
difficult to argue with.
       Joe, the persona for the computer aboard the _Dragonfly_ airplane, was,
in contrast, optimistic and confident, with just a hint of Scots in his
"voice". Designed by Reiki in an unaccustomed mood of mischief, his




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performance was as impeccable as his voice was unmistakable, and everyone had
adjusted to being regarded as "bonny lasses and lads."
       As they progressed through the routine check-out, each member of the
designated landing crew had reason to speak with both computers. Sam and
George listened, with delight, as Deirdre was explaining to Joe and Josephine
the necessity for a restraining strap on Foxx's cage during flight.
       "There's a suitable clamp, already installed in the tool cabinet,
y'know. It could be utilized for this mission, couldn't it?" Josephine was
determined to save mass.
       "What I'm wantin' is a lighter, temporary sort of thing, which I can
use to fasten Foxx in with me in both in the lander and the plane, _not_ some
great flipping iron belt in a cabinet with the heavy tools!" Deirdre tried to
remain cool. Being Irish, she resented, ever so slightly, the British tones
with their trace of superiority.
       "The mission is involving a great deal of my capacity, y'know".
       Deirdre understood perfectly. Josephine's reply was said in the classic
manner of "I've only got two hands, y'know!", but she responded patiently.
       "It's not a big thing I'm askin', is it? I'm sure you or Joe can rig up
something perfectly lovely, with no trouble a'tall," she coaxed, the Irish
lilt becoming positively honeyed. "Aye, lass," spoke up Joe comfortably. "I
think I can fashion a wee strappie to hold down the cage in your bunk. Come
and show my Christmas Branch just where you want it to go."
          ****
Within a few days, humans and computers agreed that full preparations had been
made. Every cubic centimeter of the Lander had been packed with carefully
chosen supplies, and the crew members's private allocations were no less
carefully decided. Thomas's agony over the choice between an extra-long zoom
lens and clean shirts remained private, and he made the final decision only
two minutes before the deadline. Foxx's needs had to be fitted into Deirdre's
allotment, but she shrugged away any difficulty; her own austere tastes in
dress made it easy for her to leave behind everything but essentials.
       A few hours later, George and Jinjur received a report from _Splish_.
"Some twenty kilometers away from the Manannan geyser lake, there is a mound
of volcanic basaltic rock about four hundred meters in diameter," reported
_Splish_. "It must have happened in recent geologic times, since the rock is
still internally warm and any snow falling on it melts. A number of the aliens
normally occupy this area in order to collect sunlight from Barnard. They have
vacated it to make room for your landing. The basalt should be unaffected by
your rockets."
       "Hunh, basalt. Yes, that'll be unaffected, but will we? Stuff can be
pretty lumpy." George called Sam, to get his opinion of this landing pad.
       "Sounds fine by me," Sam assured him. "Basalt is real stable stuff --
long as it's the same as earthly basalt!" James, consulted, compared the
spectral data of the rock composition it had received from _Splish_ and
assented.
       "_Victoria_'s landing legs have enough adjusting capacity to handle
three meters of variation in terrain; my laser topography mapper has measured
the variations of the ground in that area as less than one meter."
       "Well," replied George with rising anticipation. "It looks like we've
got a safe place to land."
       "I have received word from Josephine and Joe that all equipment is
installed and all supplies stowed," James announced.
       Jinjur looked over to Elizabeth at the planetary science console.
       "What's the status of the geysers, and the prognosis, Red?" Jinjur was
pretty sure of the answer, but as Commander, she always collected all
available advice before making a decision.
       "Major eruptions are over, following that recent quadruple conjunction.
Things are settling down rapidly now. No large eruptions are expected until
the next Barnard-assisted Zuni conjunction, which will take place in sixteen
Zulu days. Ten Earth days, that is." Red's normally neat red hair was tousled,




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as though she had gotten out of bed too late to leave time for her imp comb
it. She must have spent most of her sleep shift saying goodbye to someone.
       George and Jinjur exchanged a long look between themselves. There was
little need for further talk, and their own farewells had been said last
night. George nodded, and Jinjur spoke decisively, through James, to the
entire ship. "The landing party will assume their stations on _Victoria_!"
       Immediately, the smooth routine began. Tony, at the navigation console,
stabilized _Prometheus_ into the proper orientation and acceleration level for
SLAM separation, while Red, at the planetary science console, kept in contact
with _Splish_ at the landing site.
       "You're in charge of the bridge, Mr. Roma," Jinjur said through their
imp link as she left the control deck with George. "I'm going up to the
airlock to see the landing party off."
       The others who were to remain on _Prometheus_ slipped, with the ease of
long practice, into their supporting roles; Reiki gave David a quick hug
before she took control of the computer operations console; Carmen left the
sick bay, where she'd been talking quietly with John, and went swiftly to the
communications console, and Caroline settled in at the little used airlock
control console to monitor the airlock between _Victoria_ and _Prometheus_.
Linda, technically off duty, went down to the docking airlock to assist in any
way necessary. Her normally bouncy cheer was subdued, just a trifle, by the
magnitude of this goodbye; she had time to hug everyone, most thoroughly,
before they went through the airlock.
       Back in one corner of the hydroponics deck, Cinnamon touched Nels's
shoulder as he half-reclined in the fluid of the regeneration tank. His new
legs were growing nicely, and he had only two months to go. He would be out of
the tank and walking before Cinnamon returned from Zulu. He glanced briefly up
from the console screen at her touch.
       "Everything's going fine on the hydroponics deck," she reported. "While
we are gone, James will run the lab as usual. Shall I bring you back a
snowball?" The tone was joking, but Nels looked at her blankly.
       "How? Why?"
       "Never mind," said Cinnamon, and sighed. Impulsively, she stooped and
lightly kissed the cheek of the big man, sitting so patiently in the tank.
Then she was gone, in a swirl of black hair like the turn of a raven's wing.
Nels stared, puzzled, and then shrugged.
       Their last task was to transfer the three flouwen from their tank on
_Prometheus_ to the smaller tank on _Victoria_. It would take a number of days
for _Victoria_ to set up the communications net around Zulu and do a last
minute low altitude detailed survey of the landing site, so the flouwen
couldn't just travel in _Victoria_ in their drysuits. They needed a place with
food and fresh ammonia-water. Running down the center of _Victoria_ was a
central column which contained the tanks for the consumables -- air and water.
To accommodate the flouwen, Shirley and the Christmas Bush had shortened both,
leaving room for a habitat tank where the flouwen could relax and eat. Inside
the tank was a built-in underwater taste screen similar to the one on
_Prometheus_, and a small porthole in place of what used to be an inspection
plate, so they and the humans could see each other as the humans climbed the
passway ladder. They didn't have the luxury of a volcanic vent, however, and
had to make do with the flouwen equivalent of back-packing food -- a net
containing storage bags of thick, partially dried chunks of their various
favorite foods. To get the flouwen on board, the pumps and hoses which had
previously been used to transfer the flouwen from the habitat tank to their
suits had been rerouted to connect the tanks.
       Shirley sent Richard on board _Victoria_ to look through the porthole
to observe the flouwen's safe arrival, while she monitored the larger tank on
_Prometheus_.
       "Are you ready to be 'piped aboard'?" she asked the flouwen through her
imp.
       *I go first!* roared Little Red, swimming to the end of the input hose




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on the wall of the habitat tank, and surrounding it with its fluid red flesh.
       "Pump away, Josephine!" said Shirley through her imp, and in less than
a minute, the red flouwen had been sucked into the hose and was gone.
       "Everything OK, Red buddy?" came Richard's query over the imp link,
followed by Little Red's complaining voice.
       *Dark! Small!*
       "It'll be only for a few days," reassured Richard. "Then you can have a
whole ocean to explore."
       It didn't take long to repeat the process for the other two flouwen. It
was now time for the humans to board.
       Minds filled with their wide variety of concerns and hopes, the ten
members of the crew received a parting word from Jinjur. Those staying behind
at the consoles on the control deck were too busy with the count-down
procedures to give more than a wave over the cameras, as they rather wistfully
watched the adventurers clamber aboard and settle into their stations, which
because of _Victoria_'s inverted stowage position above the hydroponics deck,
were upside down in the low acceleration field of _Prometheus_. Arielle and
Thomas somersaulted into their stand-up harnesses and buckled themselves in,
Arielle in the red copilot harness and Thomas in the blue pilot one. Hanging
upside down, Arielle's mind instantly zeroed in on the flight ahead of her, to
the exclusion of everything else, except, possibly, the sandwich she was
finishing. Beside her, buckled upside down into her seat at the communications
console, Cinnamon felt the old joy rising in her again -- she loved to fly!
even if she wasn't at the controls.
       George, the last aboard, closed the airlock door and walked across the
ceiling of the bridge to his console, being careful not to step on the glass
docking window. Swinging himself upward until the sticky patches on his
uniform grabbed the loop pile of the seat at the command console, he buckled
himself in. Setting up the icons on the screen in front of him, he took the
command program through its paces, checking and double-checking with the two
pilots, Arielle and Thomas, and the two ship computers, James on _Prometheus_
and Josephine on _Victoria_.
       The six not directly concerned with the flying of the SLAM had already
strapped themselves firmly into place in their bunks, and adjusted their own
view-screens in their Sound-Bar doors for the journey. Deirdre wriggled her
booted toes on top of the sturdy padded cage strapped in at the bottom of her
bunk, in which Foxx drowsed, tranquillized and content. All of them listened,
intently, as the take-off procedure followed its orderly course.
       "Airlocks emptying." Caroline's cool voice spoke into her imp, as she
used the airlock imps to survey the seals around the small connecting area
between _Victoria_ and _Prometheus_. One by one, the indicating lights flicked
on to complete the check.
       "Docking port secure. Clearance for breakaway." reported Caroline.
       "You are cleared for breakaway, _Victoria_," said Jinjur.
       "You guys have a nice trip, y'hear?" came Linda's voice.
       Cinnamon grinned and glanced at Arielle, motionless beside her. Arielle
reached to a red switch cover, raised it, and both she and Thomas looked over
at George at the command console.
       "Take her away, Captain St. Thomas," said George.
       Arielle flicked the mechanical switch inside the switch cover. There
was a series of metallic clanks vibrating through the hull, indicating the
opening of the clamps which had held the SLAM in place on _Prometheus_. The
_Victoria_ remained motionless, held in place only by the slight acceleration
of the lightsail. Then Thomas gently eased forward the controls to the cold
gas jets, and the ponderous cylinder tilted and started to move.
       "Now at a half-meter a second," Arielle reported, watching the
indicator on the co-pilot screen.
       The hissing of the jet stopped. They were now in free fall. Instantly,
the four on the deck experienced a change in their point of view. They were no
longer upside down in _Victoria_'s bridge, they were right side up, and




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_Prometheus_ was upside down.
       Thomas and Arielle looked up through the docking window as the edge of
the hydroponics deck slid slowly past above them. As soon as they were clear,
Thomas would activate more powerful jets and fly them out between the shrouds
and away from the sail.
          ****
The next few days were spent installing a system of communication relay
spacecraft so that any point on Zulu was always in sight of at least one.
Three orbiters were set up at points 120 degrees apart in an equatorial orbit,
while two statites were established over the north and south spin poles.
       Shirley and Richard suited up and took the second of the statites into
the airlock on the engineering deck. It looked like a large hockey puck made
out of metal, two meters in diameter and a meter thick -- designed to fit,
just, through the airlock door. They pushed the statite through the open
airlock door and watched as it drifted away from the lander, rotating
slightly.
       On the crew quarters deck above, a number of the rest of the crew were
watching the deployment out of the viewport window in the small lounge, while
having a lunch that had been prepared in the nearby compact galley. Most of
them contented themselves with drink ball squeezers filled with a nourishing
"milkshake" of algae protein, essential minerals and vitamins, and various
artificial flavors, but Arielle, unable to wait, was eating one of her
"specials" -- a flip-top tray of crisp green beans, cauliflower buds, and
strips of white meat from Chicken Little, coated with James's secret
seasoning, and pressure fried to a crisp, golden brown. The smells brought
Arielle a great deal of attention, and she sacrificed one strip of real meat
to those around her, one tiny bite at a time. Little Purple, who had been in
the video lounge in its drysuit, watching children's cartoons broadcast from
Earth, was drawn by the commotion and floated over to ask questions about the
food they were eating. Cinnamon kindly took Little Purple aside in order to
explain what a chicken was.
       After letting the statite drift for a while, Shirley gave it a call.
       "You look like you're far enough away, now, _Colin_," she said. "You
can start deployment of your lightsail."
       "I have been programmed to orient my spin axis toward you, so you can
watch deployment," said _Colin_, as its attitude jets fired, first turning the
spacecraft so that its upper face was toward the two humans standing in the
airlock in their exploration suits, and next setting the spacecraft into a
moderately fast rotation. "Deployment commencing." Slowly, four collapsible
booms extended out from the main body, dragging with them a shiny gray foil of
finely perforated aluminum.
       "Deployment looking good!" reported Richard encouragingly as he scanned
the unfurling acres of lightsail. Suddenly the deployment stopped.
       "I sense an imbalance in tensions," reported _Colin_.
       "I see the problem!" said Shirley. "There is a small tear starting in
the third quadrant, about ten meters from the central body. It'll continue
growing if you keep up the deployment. You'd better send out your Christmas
Twig."
       At the center of the spacecraft body, a bundle of greenly illuminated
twigs, laser beams flashing from their tips, emerged from a small hole,
carrying some small round patches. Using its finest cilia to grasp the
nominally smooth metal surfaces, it climbed like a fly across the spacecraft
body and out along a mast. It split in two, each half carefully crawling
across the thin sail foil until it reached the tear. They placed a patch over
each side of one end of the tear, and paused while their arms seemed to blur.
       "What are they doing?" Richard asked Shirley.
       "Sewing up the tear," replied Shirley. "First they sew a patch on the
ends to prevent further ripping, then they lash the edges together." As she
spoke, the actions of the statite imp replicated her words. The imp went back
inside the spacecraft, and the deployment commenced again.




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       An hour later, the last of the sail was pulled forth from the flat
metal cylinder. "Deployment completed," reported _Colin_. "No indication of
any further malfunctions."
       The statite, its sail now fully deployed, started to drift away from
the lander as the light pressure forces from Barnard pushed it to higher and
higher speed. Like a giant gray moth, it flew off toward the nearby moon.
       "Your assigned position is over the north pole," Shirley reminded it.
"Report in to James and Josephine when you get on station."
       "Will comply," radioed _Colin_, and the statite went off to hover over
the north pole of Zulu, where the light pressure from Barnard would
counterbalance the gravity pull from Zulu. Being always over the north pole,
instead of orbiting the moon, it was always in sunlight, except for the few
hours when Barnard was behind Gargantua. Each Zulu day, a few hours before the
eclipse, _Colin_ would use its excess sail area to lift itself higher, so that
its drop during the darkness would bring it back to its nominal altitude.
       Soon, the last of the relay spacecraft had been deployed, and they were
ready to proceed with landing. George, Cinnamon, and Arielle joined Thomas on
the bridge, while the rest closed down the galley, pumped Little Purple back
into the flouwen tank, then went to their bunks and buckled themselves in. As
soon as the first glimmer of sunrise appeared on the icy fields surrounding
the gray-black basalt knob, George spoke.
       "Take her down, Captain St. Thomas."
       "All hands!" Thomas broadcast through his imp. "Stand by for deorbit
burn! For those who haven't been through this before, this'll be the most gees
you've felt since you left Earth, so make sure you are buckled in."
       Deirdre reached down with her toes and pushed against Foxx's cage to
make sure it was securely strapped.
       Slowly Thomas moved the main engine throttles forward. Inwardly, he
revelled in the feel of the controlled power in his hands. Precise and smooth,
but immensely strong, the engines responded to his skill. He and Arielle sank
in their stand-up harnesses, while uncomfortable groans were heard from the
deck below.
       "That was only half gee," Arielle announced over the imp link. "Two and
half more gees to go."
       The huge metal cylinder tilted, and slowly began the backward descent,
engines roaring full blast, then throttling down to a more controlled thrust
as it passed through the thickening atmosphere, letting the friction of the
cold thin air do its work in dissipating the energy of the falling eighty tons
of machine, humans, and flouwen. Human eyes and flouwen bodies, watching
eagerly on their various screens, looked out at a bleak and inhospitable land,
stretching to the horizon with the rough contours of thick ice. Where there
was no ice to see, the surface looked like irregular fields, differing from
each other in their blue-green shade, but approximately equal in area.
       "Like a patchwork quilt made out of triangles," murmured Katrina over
the imp link. "Made by someone with not much choice in patches."
       "Or interest in design," said David. "A crazy quilt, I think they
called it."
       The rocket's mighty jets lit up the black rock beneath them with more
light than it had ever received before. Then the light dimmed, as the
controlled thrust of the jets lowered the eighty tons of metal almost
delicately, while frost formed, and vanished, on the silvery duralloy surface.
Ponderously, but perfectly, the _Victoria_'s lowered landing struts
accommodated themselves to the uneven surface, and took the weight of the
lander upon themselves. The engines cut, as Josephine recognized the support
and shut the motors down. It was suddenly eerily silent on the bridge.
       "_Victoria_ has landed. All is well." George's quiet message to the
waiting lightcraft above was unnecessary, as James and Josephine between them
had established that fact, but the human report was equally vital for Jinjur
and the others to hear.
       Rapidly, George undid the restraining straps which held him to his




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console seat and stood, just a trifle stiffly. The flight had been brief, but
no one had really relaxed during it, rather had maintained a curious tension.
Like Foxx, the others felt the need to stretch, and quickly did so, restoring
their harnesses and bunks to neatness and preparing to move outside.
       "We've only a few hours before Barnard sets today, so let's get out
there, meet this Pink-Orb fellow, hook up with _Splish_, and assess the
situation." Sam and Richard looked at him, then each other, and grinned. Old
habits of command were coming back to George -- but it was good to see; both
men knew the value of someone, even nominally, "in charge".
       Carefully and methodically, the practiced routine of disembarking was
completed. Suits were donned, with Foxx assuming her usual place on Deirdre's
shoulder, inside her helmet.
       "You don't want to leave her safe aboard?"
       Deirdre smiled briefly at Katrina's quick concern. "With me, she'll be
out of the way. It's better, I'm used to it," was the reply.
       Arielle completed the securing of the landing rockets, and took the
preliminary steps to ready the Ascent Propulsion Stage as a precaution in case
of the need for an emergency takeoff. Richard, ready first, cycled through
into the airlock to assist the flouwen as Josephine pumped them into their
suits. As usual, Shirley ran a sharp eye over everyone's suit telltales as
they lined up by the sealed airlock door. All of this took time, and during
it, the noontime eclipse began.
       "With the three flouwen and Richard in the airlock, there is only room
for three more on this first cycle," said Shirley. "George is one of them, of
course. Who wants to help me and Richard hook the flouwen up to the winch?"
From the volunteers, Shirley selected Thomas.
       Once the three had joined Richard and the flouwen in the airlock, and
the inner door had been cycled shut, Shirley firmly opened the outer airlock
door and swung it inward, like an airliner door. It was pitch-black outside,
alleviated only locally by the landing lights glaring down on the gray-black
rock below, while above them was a black circle in the star-speckled sky that
was Gargantua. As the airlock allowed the frigid Zulu atmosphere in, there was
a momentary fog of frozen water vapor, and soon the lock was at the 820
millibars of Zulu pressure, instead of the 500 millibars used inside the
lander. The life-support systems in their backpacks began humming and hissing,
adjusting the suits to the outside atmosphere, while also extracting oxygen
from it to lessen the load on the oxygen tanks. Shirley swiveled to reach for
the winch on the ceiling of the airlock, and her suit, not quite at outside
pressure yet, contracted noisily, allowing some of the glassy foil outer layer
to press inward on her arms and legs.
       "Migod, it's _cold_!"
       Her involuntary comment brought a chuckle from the rest. Her suit imp
quickly equalized pressure and raised the suit's temperature in the affected
regions. Comfortable again, Shirley disengaged the locked-down winch and
pulled it towards the end of the overhead beam. They waited until the first
bead of light from Barnard appeared from behind Gargantua, signalling that the
eclipse was over.
       "We've only got three hours of daylight left," said George. "Let's get
a hustle on."
       He and Shirley made their way down the rungs of the ladder and past the
spot where the rungs became steps on one of the landing struts, while Thomas
and Richard used the winch to lower the excited flouwen to the surface. There,
George steadied them while Shirley undid the lowering harness and sent it back
up again. Just before George reached the bottom rung, he had thought briefly
about saying something notable as he stepped off the landing pad onto this new
world. But since the "people" who owned the world were watching them from a
distance, he decided that it would be inappropriate.
       The second group soon cycled through and made it down to the ground via
either winch line or ladder rungs. The visitors were quiet a moment, trying to
take in the entire scene before them. In the sky overhead, Gargantua hung, as




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huge as the palm of an upstretched hand, nearly dark except for a fingernail
slice of light along the side towards Barnard. Coming out from behind it,
Barnard shone dimly, half as big as the Sun appeared from Earth. Off on the
other side, two of the other alien moons swung in their orbits. All around the
gray-black basaltic knob they were standing on was ice. It looked so frozen
that Arielle, watching out the lounge window forty meters above them,
shivered, and no longer regretted that duty required her to stay within the
ship in case they needed to take off again in a hurry.
       Deirdre stepped silently off to one side of the group, every nerve
within her tingling with awareness of her position. Her mind was racing --
almost she wished she had a recorder like Reiki's -- as she strove to take in
and absorb the uniqueness of this world. Deliberately, she relaxed her
muscles, the better to experience the wonders all around her. Barnard's
distant light enabled her to see curious shapes in the mounded and tumbled ice
-- wind and spray had carved some of the taller drifts into fantastic tunnels
and peaks, which glittered, and threw strange shadows. The wind thrust
exploratory gusts into every crevice, whirled flakes of snow about, and
whistled little sounds, constantly changing. Stretching before her, the
landscape was essentially flat, but scarred and littered with grotesquely
beautiful shapes in ice and snow. She breathed a deep sigh of satisfaction.
       Richard spoke, so softly that only Cinnamon turned to him in concern.
"Damn! How can those toes still hurt?"
       His grin reassured her; the sight of this icy world had triggered the
strange sensation, common to amputees, in which the lost member seem to be
aching. Two of Richard's little toes had succumbed to frostbite, years ago in
the French Alps during a rescue, and they were now putting in their belated
message.
       Little Red was the first to pronounce judgement. *Hunh! Lumpy! Empty!
Cold! _Nothing_ to see!*
       At first glance, George was inclined to agree.
       "Yes, there is," said David in quiet jubilation. "Look there!"
       Coming toward them was the familiar shape of _Splish_. It looked like a
miniature landing craft, about one meter wide, a half-meter high, and nearly
two meters long, with a broad boatlike front, flippered treads along the side
which allowed it to move equally well on the water, ice, or ocean bottom, and
a large pressurized cargo hold which stored analysis equipment and samples. On
the top were cameras that acted as its eyes, while its arms were two
manipulators that could extend to reach any part of itself for repair work.
       After a brief, confirmatory glance at the basalt knob they had landed
on, Sam and Richard walked toward the approaching robot in order to look more
closely at the surface of the ice surrounding the knob. Deirdre followed.
       "Fresh snow, from that last big burst of geyser activity." Sam's gloved
hand picked up a portion of the top layer and squeezed it. When he opened his
hand, the snow fell from his fingers.
       "Gritty, and pretty dry," he said. "Ice dust."
       Deirdre scuffed her boots in the snow, reaching crusted ice at a depth
of a few inches. "Not a big snowfall," she commented, hoping Sam would say
more. She knew of Sam's habit of keeping up a running commentary when
analyzing some portion of terrain -- his every word picked up by his suit imp,
stored in memory in his suit computer, and transferred back to James on
_Prometheus_ at the first opportunity. Listening to Sam was a good way to
learn a great deal in a short time.
       "No, but I reckon there's never a real big snowstorm, the stuff just
keeps coming, piling up, freezing, never melting, an' slowly sublimating away
-- a little at a time, over centuries." The calm words made even Deirdre
shiver. She looked around at the desolation. Apart from the dark-gray rock on
which the lander stood, the terrain seemed all of ice.
       _Splish_ arrived at the boundary between the ice and rock, and was
greeted by George.
       "Status report."




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       _Splish_'s reply was in the carefully formal tones it had been
programmed to use. "All is well. The landing appeared normal in every respect.
The aliens await to greet you, at a safe distance. Here is the most recent
information I have collected on the alien's vocabulary and grammar."
       The small robot transferred the translation data to Josephine, who made
sure that the translation programs in the exploration suit computers of the
humans and flouwen contained the updated information, and they prepared to
walk to the distant fields. Stepping out with long legs, Sam was immediately
forced to shorten his stride.
       "Sastrugi 'dunes' under that new snow," he warned. The unevenness of
the wind-carved hard-packed snow undersurface was concealed by the fresh
snowfall, and the crew found themselves slipping frequently. Shirley, trying
to look about her at the scenery, took a full-length fall, much to her
disgust. "Haven't done that in years," she grumbled, scrambling up and
brushing the snow from her suit.
       "Let me look at your chest," commanded George. Shirley was surprised,
but then realized what he meant.
       "Not too good for the suit material, is it George? Rolling about in
this gritty stuff."
       "I doubt it," he answered, pushing check buttons on her chestpack. "But
you look okay."
       After this the crew proceeded more slowly, watching where they put
their feet, and for quite a while there was only the squeak of the ice beneath
their boots, and the clicking of _Splish_'s tread. The flouwen, plodding along
in their baggy suits, looked like someone walking in a sack. Because of the
low gravity, they had no trouble keeping up. They came to the top of the low
ridge of ice around the basalt knob, where they could look down at the vast
expanse of multicolored waiting icerugs.
       "They really _do_ look like rugs! Elegant, sculptured velvet carpets,
fit for a castle's halls!" Katrina was entranced, as was David.
       "Look at all the different colors!" exclaimed David, whose color sense
had not been diminished by the dim reddish light of Barnard. "Not just
blue-green. That one's pure peacock, and the one next to it's a deep plummy
shade, over there is one like moss..."
       Barnard was now getting lower in the sky, and as they drew closer to
the creatures, their shadows stretched across the ice and onto the colorful
bodies of the icerugs.
       "Look there! Where the shadow of our helmets falls on their surface..."
Thomas, always alert for interesting lighting effects, pointed at his shadow.
Around the shadow silhouette of each of their helmets there was a halo, of
deepest velvety black, dense in the extreme.
       "What causes that?" asked Shirley, puzzled.
       "It's sort of the opposite of the bright halo effect you get when you
look at your shadow on dewy grass," said Thomas.
       Deirdre looked at the effect thoughtfully. "If that is a growing plant,
right enough, then there's photosynthesis going on, and they'll be wanting to
capture all of this poor light that they can. They must turn the fine fibers
that give their surface that velvety texture toward the sun to capture the
maximum amount of light."
       The flouwen, to whom sight was a secondary sense, were unable to
appreciate the curious black halo effect. They had moved ahead of the slowly
following humans, and were now close behind _Splish_. Quickly catching up, the
humans spread out to stand and observe what was awaiting them. From out of the
backpacks of the humans and flouwen clambered their suit imps, each carrying a
jury-rigged speaker cone made of a circular piece of glassy-foil, so the imps
could generate the deep bass notes which the icerugs used for speech.
       The attention of the humans was now riveted on the three beings behind
the crawler. Taller even than Sam, each was topped by a large eye, nearly ten
centimeters in diameter, resting on a flexible stalk, and regarding them with
apparent benignity.




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       "No nose on the head portion," remarked Cinnamon over their intersuit
link. "Like plants on Earth, they must respire through their skin."
       Deirdre was taking in every detail of the new creatures with passionate
interest; their very peculiarity made them more fascinating than anything
simpler would have been. Deliberately, she suppressed the tendency to view new
life-forms in terms of human ones; however, it certainly seemed as though the
differences between the specimens before her were based on costume and
preference, not actual form.
       "It's a cape, that's what it is!" said Katrina breathlessly. "Look,
Deirdre, how it's draped to fall along the back, not interfere with the
arm-things!" The garment, if that is what it was, thought Deirdre carefully,
looked as if it served no practical purpose; it hung, in shimmering folds,
from an intricately woven band about the creature's eye stalk, and fell over
the globular head portion nearly to the ground. It swirled gently in the wind,
but offered no apparent protection to its wearer. The others of the strange
creatures before them were similarly attired with capes, although not as
ornately embroidered. The jade colored one had a lower "neckband" fastened at
the narrow junction below the spherical head and above the tentacle arms, from
which hung a multitude of colored ribbons which fell in between the arms
without constricting their motions. Hanging in back, under the cloak and
partially hidden by the ribbons, was a large device of unknown purpose. The
turquoise colored one carried a large pouch attached to a wide band around the
narrow junction where the pedestal connected to the four arms.
       Sam muttered, "That pouch looks like a tool-kit. See how the things
inside are held by straps and pockets?"
       "Careful," warned Shirley. "Not necessarily a tool-kit; possibly
weapons, possibly..."
       "...lunch," giggled Katrina nervously.
       Cinnamon and Deirdre moved slowly closer, examining as thoroughly as
the distance would permit them, the strange objects held in various tentacles.
       "Looks like wood," said Deirdre, "or perhaps bone, but green -- and
look you how there is a bit of something, twisted around, to keep the disc in
place. The disc looks like glass, doesn't it?"
       They realized that _Splish_ had been speaking. With its mechanical
precision, the robot was introducing the three aliens with a flourish of one
of its manipulators.
       "I present Pink-Orb, Yellow-Star, and Gray-Mote, who have supplied me
with most of my information." Turning its video camera eye toward the icerugs,
_Splish_ pointed to the explorers and completed the introduction.
       "I present Expedition Leader Colonel George Gudunov, and his crew of
humans and flouwen, from the lightship _Prometheus_." There was a silence.
_Splish_ was not much of an ambassador, thought George wryly, and, for lack of
a more carefully thought-out greeting, he straightened, brought his heels
together sharply, and saluted. Then he dropped his arm immediately, at the
sound of a smothered giggle behind him. He cleared his throat, and spoke
formally.
       "How do you do ... erm ... sirs," said George, his mind racing. "The
names of my people, here, are..." he listed them, using first names only, and
each stepped up in turn.
       "Say something to give them the sound of you," urged David privately
through their imps. "We all look alike in these suits!" When each of them had
done so, the humans waited, silently, for more. The humans were, illogically,
startled when a deep, rumbling bass voice replied, accompanied by a
translation by their suit imps. Whenever the translation program in their
suits was stumped, Josephine, with its much greater computational power, used
context information to assist with the selection of the proper word.
       "I am Pink-Orb, an Astronomer from the Center of Scientific Studies.
Since you have come from the stars, I was assigned by the Presider of the
Governing Council to converse with you. These others are from the local
association. This is Yellow-Star, a master bard and interassociation




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communicator. This is Gray-Mote, a physician and the Leader of the local
association."
       All three carpets, it was clear in this light, were of different hues
of blue-green; but now that they had had time to assimilate the features of
the aliens, it was easy to discern differences in the creatures. Pink-Orb's
body was a soft plum color, while the iris of its eye was a pale pink.
Yellow-Star's body was a deep jade color, and streaks of yellow produced a
star-like pattern in the light brown center of its eye, while Gray-Mote had a
turquoise body, and had obviously been named because of a curious mote that
distorted the normally round aperture in the center of its iris of silvery
gray.
       "Their names seem to be keyed to the differences in iris color and
structure," David murmured. "Easy to distinguish, as long as there's not too
many!" There was another pause, for which the humans were grateful, as they
struggled to comprehend these strange-appearing, yet obviously civilized
creatures.
       "And in the distance are others from the local association, who have
come to see you out of curiosity." With a wave of a tentacle, which stretched
double its previous length during the all-encompassing sweep, Pink-Orb
indicated the carpets behind it, and the humans noticed crowds of similar
stalked nodes, clustered in between the carpets of Pink-Orb and Yellow-Star on
one side, and Yellow-Star and Gray-Mote on the other side, while others were
off on the outskirts of Gray-Mote and Pink-Orb, as if they were trying to get
as close as they could without treading on the territory of the three primary
ambassadors.
       George introduced the flouwen. "These are friends of ours, but not like
us. We call them Little Red, Little Purple, and Little White. They wear our
protective clothing, but they are native to this star system. They have come
to visit you from Rocheworld. I do not know your name for Rocheworld. Have you
a name for the object in the night sky made of two moons..."
       Josephine's, "They understand the word Rocheworld." and Pink-Orb's
rumbled, "Yes." came almost simultaneously into George's ears. A deeper rumble
started and their suit-imps passed on the translation. It was Yellow-Star
speaking.
       "Pink-Orb is the principal astronomer of our nation. All of the bodies
in our skies are known to him, and his delight is to calculate their future
behavior. He keeps us informed of the approaching conjunctions, when the tides
increase and the Munificent God of the Sea awakens."
       At these words, human and flouwen minds alike were both intrigued.
These aliens were obviously highly intelligent and knowledgeable about the
world around them and deserved respect, and the humans in particular resolved
to pursue their quests as tactfully as possible; but also it was obvious that
there was much to be learned.
       "I hope our approach did not alarm your people?" asked Cinnamon.
       "No. It was loud, and bright, but we have known for some time of your
coming. We are not fearful of noise or light, they have no power to harm."
       "I assume we appear very strange to you."
       Yellow-Star answered this. "Through the songs passed down to me from
the bards of the past, I know all the strange things that have ever been seen
before. We have seen nothing like you or your machines, nor had we expected to
receive such a visit. It is interesting -- little happens outside the daily
routine. You humans seem to travel both in large machines and by balancing on
two of your four limbs, while the flouwen seem to travel in a manner partially
like a human and partially as we do."
       "Yes," said George succinctly, cutting off Shirley's attempt to explain
more fully. "Exactly how do you travel?"
       Deirdre and Cinnamon both looked askance at the direct question. But
Sam muttered, "Yup. Got to get on with it. And it doesn't look -- upset." The
alien, Gray-Mote, answered and seemed interested in the opportunity to talk
about his physiology.




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       "My node travels wherever it will, freely. Here, on my own body I move
thus..." and, demonstrating, the curious pedestal arrangement glided away,
more swiftly than most humans could run, and then returned. It was a
breath-taking sight. Moving rather like a cork on a wave, the node moved
across its turquoise turflike base with a silent glide, smooth and effortless.
On its return it was equally fast, and then simply stopped before the humans.
There was no indication of effort or stress. It then moved off its carpeted
area across the bare ice toward them, a wave of turquoise flesh preceding it,
while leaving a trail of turquoise behind. "Going into a new area requires
that I first put down a portion of myself first -- this is not difficult, but
it is much slower. Once I have laid down a trail, however, I can move as
rapidly as I do on my own area." It quickly zoomed back onto its main carpet
and slowly the turquoise trail it had left behind grew thinner as it drew back
into the main body.
       "Please, can you tell me the -- can you tell me how your carpet is --
made?" Katrina was trying to be polite, while every instinct in her wanted to
touch, to probe, that strange velvety nap.
       "It is not made, it grows, it is -- my body," replied Gray-Mote.
       Deirdre drew close to the end of the shrinking turquoise trail leading
out from Gray-Mote. "If it would not give offense, it would be most
enlightening for us to be taking a look, and perhaps the gentle touch, of your
beautiful carpet." Deirdre's singing tones were dulcet, and she lingered over
them. The alien looked at her directly; "It would not give offense."
       Deirdre, Katrina, and Cinnamon dropped to their knees, together,
reaching gloved hands gently to probe, and stroke, and lift the edges of the
thin, softly-textured ice-covering on which the pedestal stood.
       "It's almost like moss," said Cinnamon, patting the surface.
       Katrina poked the tip of her finger under the living creature and
lifted its edge. "Look there are roots too. Fine, like the upper surface, and
they go directly into the ice!" Deirdre was nearly flat on her stomach now,
barely touching the fascinating life-form, but looking intently at the
beautiful structure of each tiny fiber, endlessly duplicated in the carpet
before her.
       Meanwhile, David entered into discussion with Yellow-Star. "Among our
people, a bard is someone who is both a musician and an historian. Is that
true among your people?"
       "Yes, I remember and retell the history of our people through music."
The translation programs in their chestpack translated the word "music" for
the humans properly, but the word-sound coming from Yellow-Star sounded like a
gong. "I will be composing a song to commemorate our meeting." Yellow-Star
used its back tentacles to bring out the device that had been hanging under
its cape. It looked like a cross between a harp and a drum, with a number of
heavy strings stretched across an elliptical drumhead. Two of Yellow-Star's
tentacles held the instrument, while a third plucked the strings, and a fourth
punctuated the music with a complex rhythmical beat on the back of the
drumhead using both ends of what looked like a bone. To all this Yellow-Star
added its deep bass voice.
       "From the stars they came, on a circular moon; In flames they land, in
a tower of stone..." The music stopped and Yellow-Star added. "That is only
the beginning, of course. I will add more later."
       "You play and sing very well," said David, whose fingers itched to try
the harp-drum.
       "We all enjoy music, especially singing. Gray-Mote, there, is extremely
accomplished, and a great addition to our choruses. He is one of the few who
can sing..." Josephine had a moment's difficulty with the newest word
"...tenor, so he is frequently called upon."
       Meanwhile, George, with Sam and Richard, were listening to Pink-Orb's
elaborately worded invitation. "My normal rooting area is near the center of
our city, Windward. After the site for your landing was chosen by our
Governing Council, I uprooted myself and traveled here in order to greet you




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properly. Those that make up the Governing Council are anxious to meet you.
They will welcome you as soon as you can get there." Questioning, aided with
_Splish_'s prior knowledge of the icerug's measuring system, revealed that the
center of Windward city was twenty kilometers distant on the shores of
Manannan Lake.
       "Windward?" queried David, puzzled.
       "I would guess that name comes from the fact that their geyser is the
closest to the leading pole," said Richard. "There are always winds coming
from that direction."
       "Fortunately, twenty kilometers is not too great a distance," said
George gravely. "We have a smaller machine with us, less large and noisy, with
which to travel about your countryside. We shall use it to go to Windward in a
few days."
       Here Katrina interrupted, with a carefully worded request for a small
sample of the icerug's "body".
       "How large is what you call small?" cautiously asked Gray-Mote. Katrina
indicated the space between her thumb and forefinger, and the ice-rug
assented. "That is very small indeed, I shall not miss it. A large piece, of
course, would be expensive." Deirdre and Cinnamon caught the odd use of the
word.
       "Expensive? Josephine, have you translated that correctly?" Josephine
was definite. Shirley, whose tact was never her strong suit, asked, "Do you
buy or sell your -- body?"
       "Of course. Out here, in the country, where the dwellers have the space
to grow to a large area, their principal occupation is growing extra flesh
which they use in trade with those of us in the city for manufactured goods
and services."
       This statement produced another silence, as the humans and flouwen
tried to comprehend. Katrina knelt, biopsy punch in hand, but the icerug had
already pinched off a small portion of its turquoise body. There was no
indication that this caused any discomfort, or indeed, any feeling, to the
icerug. Pink-Orb and Yellow-Star also cooperated by donating small samples of
their velvety flesh. Unlike small budded-off portions of a flouwen body, which
move about actively, these pieces of flesh were flaccid. All Katrina had to do
was pick them up and put them into some sample bags. Before she did so, she
took a quick look at the sample with her pocket microscope.
       Her actions caught the attention of the scientist, Pink-Orb, who curved
sinuously over the small human, to bring its large eye closer. "Is that a ...
microscope?" Once again, Josephine's incredible speed at translating from
context produced the desired word with only a second's delay.
       "Yes. Not a very good one, but portable." Katrina proffered the tool.
Deirdre started to speak, but the icerug was already examining the microscope
and talking.
       "We have similar devices. Our lenses are made of fine ice, highly
polished, but they are more fragile than this. We cannot carry ours about.
This must contain very hard ice indeed."
       "It is not ice at all, it is another substance which is common with us.
Please accept this one as a gift," said Katrina impulsively. Both Shirley and
Deirdre protested immediately.
       "This is interfering already! Way beyond our mission!" said Shirley.
       Deirdre's voice was vibrant with disapproval. "You're thinking it's a
scientist, a person, and you've no basis for that!"
       Katrina's blue eyes were round with dismay. "But it said microscope..."
       George interrupted. "The icerug used a word Josephine was able to
interpret as one we know, and it's intelligence is obvious. I see no harm in
giving the 'scope away -- rather kindly meant, I'm sure." The blue eyes in
their sooty lashes looked gratefully at George. Sometimes, thought Deirdre in
resignation, it was difficult not to pat Katrina on the head. Barnard was
about to set, and although Gargantua was now at half-moon stage and provided
more illumination, it was far from bright.




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       "Well!" George shifted his feet, and coughed. "This has been
extraordinary, Pink-Orb, Yellow-Star, Gray-Mote: another limitation my people
must deal with, which neither you nor the flouwen apparently share, is the
need for sleep. As Barnard is about to set, and we are very tired, I should
like us to return to _Victoria_ for a time while we rest."
       Little Purple attempted to explain to the ice-rugs: #Humans get used
up. Have to waste time doing nothing at all for a while.#
       "You are welcome to remain in conversation, if that's mutually
agreeable," said George somewhat stiffly.
       "Sure!" said the flouwen, and the icerugs remained motionless. With
murmured thanks the weary humans returned across the rock to climb up the
ladder and into the airlock on _Victoria_.
       The first through the airlock door chanced to be Cinnamon; her mind
full of the strange encounter, she stepped through the open hatch and
instantly slid across it to slam into the opposite side. Her squeal of dismay
stopped Sam, who was following, but then she rose, unhurt because of the low
gravity. He laughed, and stepped in himself, only to grunt as he too slipped
and fell. The others, distracted by their own thoughts and ready for the
comfort of the ship, paid little attention to the antics of those who preceded
them, and most of them too lost their balance and fell to a greater or lesser
degree. Richard, the last to arrive, saved himself with a quick grasp of the
winch beam, and stared in astonishment at the last of his fellows, staggering
upright. Arielle, who had been watching through the airlock porthole, was
puzzled.
       "Why everybody come crashing home?" she asked through the imp link.
       "Ice," Richard replied, raising his boot to show its bottom. "The thick
tread on these boots gets packed with ice, and when we step on the floor of
the airlock, which is just a degree or so warmer than the freezing point, it
instantly becomes slick as glass. We'll have to be careful of that first step
inside -- or else put down a doormat!"
       Soon they were all inside and out of their suits. With a sigh, Sam
plopped himself into the sofa in the lounge.
       "After all those months in zero-gee, just carrying myself around is
work," he said.
       Richard agreed, and headed purposefully for the hot shower, stepping
neatly in front of Shirley. She glared, but sat down again.
       "Guess we better get the reports going in before we forget anything,"
she said.
       "Those ice-rugs ... I don't know what to say," said Katrina.
       "A first," whispered Deirdre to Cinnamon.
       "Well," said David, "They're very intelligent, they live somehow I just
can't understand, and they've got some kind of sophisticated government, even!
I'm just glad they're musicians!"
       "Doesn't help the rest of us," grunted George.
       "They're a very different life-form from anything we've ever met,"
concluded Cinnamon.
       Deirdre concurred. "A combination, it is, of plant and animal -- and
intelligent. Still, it concerns me that you gave it the microscope, Katrina."
       "It was nothing, such a little thing, and I meant it to be friendly!"
protested Katrina.
       "Isn't history full of such well-meaning gifts?" said Deirdre grimly.
"Starlings, now, what could be the harm in them? And the lovely gray
squirrels..."
       "Oh, now, Deirdre," said Cinnamon. "This isn't the same, Pink-Orb said
they already have microscopes, they use them as we do..."
       "But they are not us, nor like us at all!" maintained Deirdre fiercely.
"And we cannot logically expect it. We must remain detached, and learn, but
neither help nor hinder when we don't know which it is we're doing!"
       The dispute had ended inconclusively, as always, and amity was restored
swiftly over a relaxing meal of a hearty soup with real vegetables and chewy




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chunks of algae pseudo-beef, served with Arielle-baked croissants, prepared in
the tiny galley and eaten together in the small lounge. Three of them crowded
into the soft sofa looking out the large view port window at the distant
gathering of icerugs and flouwen, with two more sitting on the floor, two
perched on the sofa back, and two on the galley stools. Gratefully they
slurped at the mugs, which were a nice change from free-fall squeezers, while
making themselves comfortable again. The humans, so carefully chosen years ago
for their cooperative natures, had long since discarded any tendency to
quarrel.
       "I don't know about you," interjected Thomas, nibbling the crusty bits
at the ends of his croissant that he had saved for last. "But I'm heading for
my bunk. Slavedriver Shirley will be needing my body tomorrow to lower the
_Dragonfly_."
       "Don't forget to do your debriefing reports," reminded George. "Our
primary purpose here is to gather information and pass it back to Earth."
       "Let's sort out our report together," suggested Katrina to Cinnamon and
Deirdre. "We'll direct it to Nels, including everything we saw. Perhaps, with
James's help, he can come up with some answers to how this icerug creature
lives -- and how it got that way!" Cinnamon agreed instantly.
       Deirdre was less enthusiastic. "Send Nels all we know, that's fine, but
we're the ones who can best study the creatures, being on the spot. Reports of
icerugs -- it'll read like reports of dragons -- he'll not be quite able to
believe it's the truth we're telling."
       Shirley stood, as Richard emerged from the shower, refreshed and
dressed in his night coverall. "My report can wait just a bit," she said. "My
turn for the hot water."
       George glanced up. "Let's not linger over these reports anyway," he
advised. "Just dump all the facts and observations you picked up into James
and let him sort through them. We need to get some sleep. We've got only seven
hours to sunrise, and first thing tomorrow we have to put the _Dragonfly_
together. I'd like to get the flouwen into the water as soon as possible after
that, then we'll visit the big city."
--------
         *CHAPTER 05 -- LOWERING*
       During the first part of the seven-hour night, well illuminated by
Gargantua moving from half-moon through full-moon and back to half-moon again,
the flouwen learned from Gray-Mote that the icerugs also spent some part of
the day "doing nothing at all".
       "During the dark period that occurs near the middle of the day, when
the Sun-God goes behind the Night-God, so that the eye of the Night-God is
completely closed, it becomes very dark indeed. Without the energy coming into
our bodies from the light emitted by the Sun-God, we imitate the Night-God and
close our eye and rest. During that time, we will not be able to converse with
you."
       #We find something else to do then,# said Little Purple. #Maybe find
something to eat.#
       *Hungry now!* announced Little Red. Manipulating within the confines of
his suit one of the self-sealing bags that carried a supply of preserved food,
Little Red removed a strand of dried flatweed and proceeded to digest it. The
top of the strand could be seen in his head behind his "eyes" where the images
of the three icerug nodes were focused on the red flesh inside his lensed
helmet.
       "How extraordinary!" exclaimed Gray-Mote, putting its monocle up before
its eye to look closer at the slowly disappearing strand of seaweed. "I can
see you digesting your food! How did it get there? Where is your mouth?"
       *All of me is mouth,* replied Little Red nonchalantly.
       "But I can see your eye portion looking at me, so that isn't mouth,"
objected Gray-Mote.
       In reply, Little Red moved the piece of flatweed right to the surface
of his body and continued to digest his snack right where the image coming




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through his left lens was focused. *All of me is mouth,* he repeated. He
swirled his fluid body around inside his helmet, the piece of flatweed moving
with it, until he had cleared his lenses and had two eyes back again. *All of
me is eye, too.*
       "But you have arms," objected Yellow-Star, pointing with one of its
four jade tentacles at the glassy-foil covered pseudopods extending from holes
in the neckring of Little Red's suit. "Three of them."
       In reply, Little Red collapsed all three sleeves and drew the flesh
into his suit, then filled the sleeves again. *All of me is arm, too.*
       "But you are obviously intelligent beings, so you must have a brain,"
said Pink-Orb.
       *All of me is brain, too.* said Little Red smugly. *_Smart_ brain!*
       "Then you have _no_ specialized structures inside that protective
clothing?" asked Gray-Mote, finally beginning to comprehend the true alienness
of the colorful creatures standing before it.
       ^All cells in our body are the same,^ said Little White. ^All of them
work at all things. But the whole of us is more than just all cells added up.
The bigger we grow, the smarter we grow. We three are buds from our primaries,
which are much bigger. They much smarter too.^
       "Most extraordinary," echoed Pink-Orb. "My fellow researchers at the
Center for Scientific Studies will be most interested in hearing about a
creature that is all brain."
       Gray-Mote added in its agreement. "And I am certain that when my
reports are received at the Center for Medical Studies they will be most
interested in hearing about a creature that is all mouth. Indeed, all
everything." Gray-Mote looked close again at the fast-disappearing seaweed
strand. "That looks like a piece of seaweed."
       *Flatweed.*
       ^Flatweed is plant, grows near volcanic vents in ocean of Eau on
Rocheworld,^ explained Little White. ^May be like plants you have in your
oceans.^
       "We could compare," said Gray-Mote. "I have some seaweed stored in my
food locker. I will bring it here, along with some samples of the other kinds
of food we eat."
       Little Red opened his food bag to get some pieces of food to share. He
was about to open the zipper on his suit to put them outside when he paused.
       *If we touch air here, what will happen?*
       ^The human Shirley said air is not poisonous to humans, so it cannot be
too dangerous.^
       Little Red unzipped a small opening in his suit and extended a cautious
red probe of flesh. Reassured, he said, *Thick. But not poisonous.* It did
indeed seem dense to the flouwen. On their native planet, Rocheworld, the
pressure was twenty percent of that of Earth. Here -- as the humans had
observed -- it was four times higher in pressure and density.
       Little Red brought out some of the food supplies Cinnamon had stuffed
into his suit, some flatweed, a flitter wing, and a light-brown flat creature
that the humans called a 'gingersnap'.
       *Here, taste!* said Little Red, thrusting the food toward the icerugs
in the direct manner of the flouwen. The three icerugs each took a tiny
sample, put them into their sharp-toothed mouths and chewed thoughtfully.
       "Peculiar, but not inedible," said Gray-Mote. Its eye turned away to
look back on its carpet. "The samples of our food will be here shortly." With
their limited eyesight, the flouwen were not aware of anything approaching,
until all at once they spied some objects moving towards them across
Gray-Mote's carpet, as though they were flotsam moving on top of a turquoise
wave.
       "Ah," said Pink-Orb, looking with satisfaction at the approaching food.
"There is a tasty portion -- a coelashark head. The cheek muscle meat is
especially delicious. Do sample it."
       "I also brought a smallfish and some boardweed, somewhat like your




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flatweed but thicker. When dried it makes a good building material."
       "And when you are finished using it to make things, you can always eat
it," added Yellow-Star. "If you are hungry enough."
       Gray-Mote removed a small stone scalpel-like knife from a scabbard in
the pouch hanging from its belt, and with its amazingly sharp blade, sliced
off small portions of the various samples of food. Cutting a slice of meat off
the coelashark head was the difficult part.
       "You can't get at the cheek meat from the outside," said Gray-Mote,
tapping the point of its knife on the armored jaw of the dead coelashark. "You
have to go through on the inside." With deft motions, the icerug surgeon used
two tentacles to hold open the mouth of the coelashark, exposing the soft
white skin inside, and used the other two to slice open the skin and remove
the cheek muscle.
       "No vermicysts, I suppose," said Yellow-Star, bending its large eye
down to look inside the coelashark mouth.
       "No. I checked. Long ago," said Gray-Mote. "The cheeks are snowy
white."
       Gray-Mote held out samples of all the foods to the three flouwen.
       Little Red was eager to try, and his approving remarks induced the
other two to join him. Little White remembered to put a small portion of each
different type of food into sample bags. "To take to Katrina," he said.
       "The human Katrina collects samples of everything," said Gray-Mote,
with understanding. "Certainly you may take back samples. In fact, you may
take back the remains of the whole coelashark head. There is much to learn
from examining it."
       #Very tasty indeed!# said Little Purple, after finishing his bit.
Gray-Mote moved closer, trembling just a bit with interest. "That is surely
significant that you can not only eat, but enjoy our food!"
       ^We must share a common ancestor,^ started Little White, but for once
the translation computer, which had been so ably handling the conversation so
far, stopped at the last word.
       "I am sorry," apologized Josephine as it took over the translation task
from the computer program in Little White's suit. "But there seems to be no
icerug word for 'ancestor'."
       "Strange!" interjected Thomas, who was monitoring the conversation of
the icerugs and the flouwen from the comm console on _Victoria_. "Not even
father or mother? How about husband or wife, or brother or sister? How about
just 'relative'?"
       Josephine was firm. "No words indicating any personal relationships at
all."
       "Must be a strong taboo -- possibly related to a taboo about sex,"
concluded Thomas. "Better steer away from that topic, Little White."
       "For some reason, that last phrase was not completely translated,"
Gray-Mote finally said after a long wait.
       "We must share a common _taste_," corrected Little White, conscious
that he was telling his first lie in his extremely long life. Flouwen could
not lie to each other. Their mental processes were literally too transparent
to the three-dimensional view of their insides that sonar sight provided. The
coming of the humans had now taught Little White how to do something else that
had never been done before by flouwen -- and Little White was not sure he
liked it.
       "Yet, how different we are," mused Gray-Mote for a moment, then
suddenly the icerug physician had another idea. "Here! Taste you of my flesh!"
The flouwen were silent, horrified at such a suggestion.
       ^Although we share memories with other flouwen by giving them a small
taste of memory chemicals, we don't eat each other's flesh. We only eat
animals and plants.^
       "No, no, it's quite all right. We don't mind a bit," Gray-Mote replied
in reassurance. "We routinely trade flesh with each other. It will be a most
interesting scientific experiment to see if you like it! You don't need to




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reciprocate if it would bother you." The icerug budded off three small
portions of its body and held out the turquoise chunks of its flesh with its
tentacle. The pieces of flesh remained flaccid, unlike an equivalently small
portion budded off from a flouwen -- which would have been very active.
       Not so eager now, Little Red waited, until both Little Purple and
Little White had brought their shares within the confines of their suits and
tasted them.
       #Strange!# said Little Purple. #First, almost a memory, but not quite
-- like sharing thoughts with someone far from your pod who uses different
words for things. But then ... it just tastes like food.#
       ^I tasted that, too,^ said Little White. ^Strong memories with bright
pictures, all strange to me.^
       *Almost, I understood,* said Little Red with unaccustomed seriousness.
*A bit, about water, almost clear, but then -- crazy sounds and colors.*
       ^We can taste some of your memories,^ concluded Little White. ^But they
are not clear.^
       "The fact that you could taste any memories at all is most
interesting," said Gray-Mote. "This will certainly be of interest to those in
the Center for Medical Studies -- transferring knowledge by means of taste.
Perhaps you could go there to help them conduct some experiments."
       ^We have other work to do here,^ said Little White firmly. ^We must
explore ocean under ice and meet the coelasharks.^ Little White, however,
being a flouwen astronomer, was anxious to talk further with Pink-Orb, the
icerug astronomer, to test the icerug's level of understanding of planetary
dynamics. He turned from Gray-Mote to Pink-Orb.
       ^You have predicted next eruption of the geyser-god Manannan will be
when Near-God and Far-God and Sun-God are all in a line behind Ice. How do you
know when gods are going to be all in a line when you can't see them?^
       The translation program in Little White's suit converted the flouwen's
question, and the suit imp on the outside of Little White's suit used its
speaker cone to convert the question into deep sounding tones centered in the
icerug's hearing range. There was a pause as the eyes of the icerugs rolled
around on their bent stalks as they looked at each other. Obviously, something
again had gone wrong in the translation.
       "I will answer your question," finally replied Pink-Orb, after rolling
its eye back to look at Little White. "But first, we need to remove a
misunderstanding between us. Your statements, as we hear them from the
glittering machine, refer to the objects in the skies with words that imply
they are deities to be worshiped. It is true that our ancient ancestors gave
those objects the names of gods, and sometimes, even today, we refer to their
actions as if they were living beings -- such as saying 'the Night-God closing
its eye' -- but we know those objects are not gods. They are just spherical
bodies composed of various different materials, that are orbiting around each
other following the orbital laws."
       Thomas interjected a comment. "Same thing back in the solar system --
Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter -- nearly all the planets and moons are named
after old-time gods."
       Little White was relieved to hear what Pink-Orb had to say. ^Good! I
thought you use stories about gods instead of mathematics to predict
conjunctions.^
       "Of _course_ not!" said Pink-Orb loudly, and then went on. "I have
excellent telescopes with which to observe the various objects in the sky. I
have long observed the motions of the moons, and recorded their positions with
respect to the stars. I also use mathematics to calculate their orbits with
great precision and my calculations agree with my observations. It is
relatively simple to use the orbital equations to calculate when those objects
which are out of sight must be lined up with those objects which we can see."
       ^Tell me how you calculate orbits of moons,^ said Little White.
       "It is not easy." The astronomer Pink-Orb was slightly condescending.
"It starts with a simple mathematical rule, based on the logic of gravity for




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a spherical mass: One massive object will attract a second massive object with
a force that is directly proportional to the product of the masses of the two
objects, and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between the
centers of mass of the two objects. The rule is relatively simple to apply to
two or three spherical masses, but after that it is simple no longer, and must
be solved by using approximations. With great patience, I and others at the
Center for Scientific Studies have worked out the orbits and cycles for all of
the objects in our sky, but it took a great deal of time. It is very complex
mathematics, and only a few of us are capable of understanding it. I,
however..."
       Little White could not restrain himself longer. ^It is simple! Rule for
many spheres is simple!^
       #That's right,# said Little Purple. #Rule combines complex variable
substitution with coordinate transformation into an nth root dimensional
space, where n is number of spheres.#
       The icerugs were silent for a long moment. "I do not understand," said
Pink-Orb finally.
       ^Maybe translation unclear...^
       *Here, taste!* said Little Red impatiently, opening his suit and moving
a fleshy red pseudopod to within reach of the alien astronomer's tentacles.
Slowly, hesitantly, the velvet-furred plummy tentacle arose and met the
glistening-wet red pseudopod, and, for an eerie instant, the two
representatives of such different and alien species touched each other.
       "There was a strong and very complex taste, but that's all," said
Pink-Orb flatly, who, unlike the flouwen, was unable to pass on information by
taste chemicals.
       ^It is so beautiful,^ pleaded Little White, frustrated. ^Simple nth
root dimensional space! It makes difficult equations easy.^
       "I do not understand." Pink-Orb's bass voice took on a deeper growl.
Little Purple, remembering the injunction of the humans not to overstay their
welcome, decided it was time to leave. Pacifically returning to discussion of
their shared interest in what might lie beneath the surface of the ocean, the
flouwen chatted a few moments longer, promising to share further information
later.
       "I must say goodby now," said Pink-Orb. "I have a very long way to
travel. Please inform the humans that I will be returning to my assigned area
in the city, from where I will inform the Presider and the Governing Council
that they may expect a visit from the humans shortly."
       Gray-Mote and Yellow-Stare parted their carpets along their adjoining
edges, leaving a narrow path of ice, and Pink-Orb's pedestal started down the
path, a surging wave of plum-colored flesh preceding the node as it laid down
a carpet for the pedestal to travel on. Long after the node had passed on, the
stream of velvety flesh flowed out of the field that Pink-Orb had been
inhabiting. After the last portion of Pink-Orb's body had disappeared, the gap
between Gray-Mote and Yellow-Star closed, and the two icerugs glided silently
away over their colored carpets into the Gargantuan-lit gloom of the nighttime
to return to their own affairs, while the flouwen plodded back to the lander,
burdened with sample bags. There, night-watchman Thomas, with the aid of the
Christmas Branch, hauled them back up on the winch and sucked them back into
their habitat where they refreshed their bodies with crystal-clear
ammonia-water.
         ****
At first light, Josephine awoke the crew with her accustomed gentleness. "Rise
and shine, my dearies."
       Deirdre, accustomed to rising quickly to attend to Foxx's few needs,
was startled to find herself a trifle stiff in movement. A moment later,
Richard groaned, and after climbing out of the hanging harness of his vertical
bunk, designed more for free-fall than gravity, he bent double several times
in the narrow aisle, twisting as he did so.
       "Boy, you think you keep in shape, working out in the gym on




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_Prometheus_, but then you do real work, in real gravity, and find some
surprised muscles."
       The rest discovered their own sore spots quickly, but the small aches
were soon dissipated in activity. Since there was hard work coming up, they
settled down to Josephine's "cooked breakfast" of cereal, juice, scrambled
algae-egg, pseudo-sausage or slices of real ham from Hamlet; toasted
algae-flour bread; broiled mushrooms and cherry tomatoes from the hydroponics
gardens on _Prometheus_; and a hot beverage.
       As they ate, scattered here and there in the lounge and galley stools,
George went over their plans, the flouwen in their tank being connected to the
discussion through George's imp.
       "According to Josephine, by the time we get suited up and down on the
surface, we'll have about three hours of light, which we'll use to get the
_Dragonfly_ down and ready. Then it's going to get really dark for about an
hour and a half, and we'd better not try to take off until that's over. Do you
Littles want to suit up? While we work on lowering and assembling the
_Dragonfly_, you could go visit the icerugs, with one of us along if you
want."
       Little Purple considered. #Not worth it. Takes time to get there. Then,
when deep dark comes, they do nothing, like when you sleep. They told us
that.#
       Here was a new fact for Deirdre, Cinnamon, and Katrina to mull over.
       "Photosynthesis cuts off?"
       "Sounds like it."
       "No energy input, so they have to shut down."
       Little Red was eager to get into the water and start exploring. *Don't
want to talk to icerugs any more. Icerugs not _dumb_, but not as smart as
flouwen, either.*
       ^I think,^ said Little White mildly, ^We wait here while you get
_Dragonfly_ ready.^
       Little Red was disappointed. *I come out and help!*
       "I know, ol' buddy, you want to do what you call helping," said
Richard. "But it'll go a lot faster if you stay put this morning!"
       After passing in their trays to the galley imp to clean, all the crew
except Cinnamon climbed into their exploration suits. Cinnamon was scheduled
for shift duty inside _Victoria_, monitoring the activities outside, making
sure all the communication links back to _Prometheus_ and Earth were
functional, and ready at any time to activate the Ascent Propulsion Stage of
_Victoria_ for quick takeoff, in case they had to leave in a hurry.
       By the time Barnard rose in the east, eight suited figures were
gathered on the ground at the base of the lander looking up at the task that
lay before them. In a long crease that went up the side of the forty-six-meter
high cylindrical lander, was an airplane with clipped off wings, _Dragonfly
III_. On the top and bottom of each of the wing stubs was a circular cover
that protected the two-meter-diameter VTOL fans underneath. Shirley was now in
her element, supervising the lowering and assembly of the _Dragonfly_.
       "Thomas!" Shirley called through her imp. "Is the upper nose winch hook
in place?"
       "Yes," replied Josephine, echoed by Thomas.
       "Okay, Josephine, release the hold-down lugs!" The strong claws of the
holding clamps opened all along the side of the _Dragonfly_ in a rippling
clank, and the airplane tilted free of the elastomer seals and hung, swinging
slightly, from its nose, with its tail root still fastened firmly to the top
of the landing strut.
       "Let out the top winch!" Josephine started the nose winch rotating,
paying out cable. Slowly the long vehicle, part airplane and part spacecraft,
tilted away from the side of the lander, pivoting around its tail, still fixed
at the base of the lander. As the nose of the _Dragonfly_ came clear, the
watchers on the ground could now see the triangular windows on the flight
deck. Behind them were the bulbous hemispherical glass domes on each side of




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the airplane that together allowed the port and starboard science scan
platforms a view in nearly every direction from the ship. It was partially the
bulbous eye-like domes that gave _Dragonfly_ its name, plus, when its wings
were on, and its engines were powered up, the airplane -- like a dragonfly --
could not only use its jets to fly at high speed, but use its VTOL fans to
hover motionless.
       "Now, Josephine, let out both winches at the same time!" Deep inside
the _Victoria_, the two winches, one up near the nose and one down near the
tail, rotated in synchronism, slowly letting out more cable. Then, tilted at a
thirty degree angle, the _Dragonfly_ slid on its tail down the lowering rail
built into the landing strut. As the rear of the airplane came free from the
crease in the lander, the watchers could see the tall tail rudder come into
view. On either side of the rudder could now be seen the two sets of tapered
hollow wing sections.
       When the tail root reached a point about two meters from the end of the
lowering rail, Shirley called a halt. Then, after checking everything once
more, she started the upper winch again. Slowly the winch, squeaking slightly
in the frozen air, lowered the nose of the plane down, and the long fuselage
rotated about the pivot point near the tail until it was horizontal. Thomas,
high up on the engineering deck, held onto the handholds in the open airlock
as the lander tilted noticeably under the load.
       "Lower landing gear," said Shirley, peering beneath the belly of the
plane. Three slots opened, releasing the metal struts with skids on the
bottom.
       "Lower away!" commanded Shirley, and the winches, slowed even further
by Josephine's sure touch, gently deposited the _Dragonfly_ onto Zulu's
surface, its smooth duralloy surface submitting unmoving to Arielle's tender
pats. With the body of the aerospace vehicle on the ground, but still
wingless, Arielle and David cycled through the airlock of the _Dragonfly_,
woke up Joe, and started taking the computer and the vehicle through its
self-check routine.
       "That's got it!" shouted Shirley. George and Richard, who had been
waiting at each end, undid the hooks at the ends of the lowering cables, and
the winches began to retract the cables. Shirley used the hook retreating into
the lower winch to hoist herself up into the base of the lander where the wing
sections were nested.
       "Right. Now everyone out to catch the wing pieces! Thomas, man the
winch up there!"
       Thomas pushed out, on its rollers, the beam in the ceiling of the
airlock, until the winch on the end of the beam hung over the side of the
lander. Josephine sent the Christmas Branch down the hanging cable to the hook
at the end, looking like a giant glittering spider climbing down its thread to
get a fly at the end. The Christmas Branch attached the hook to a lifting lug
on the inner piece of the nested wing sections. The sections were hollow
graphite-fiber composite structures designed without internal bracing, with
their inner and outer contours shaped so they would nest together into a
compact package. With Shirley shouting instructions and guiding the sections
out of their storage position, Thomas and Josephine used the upper winch to
slowly pull each section out one at a time and lower them down to teams of
waiting crew members.
       With uplifted arms the humans received them, minding Shirley's
admonitions: "Slowly, now! Let the winch bear their weight. Guide them into
their proper position on each side of the _Dragonfly_, slowly, slowly..."
       "You'd think we hadn't done this before," grunted Richard, his arms
outstretched to help Sam, George, and Katrina as the four of them swiveled the
five-by-six-meter section of wing into position.
       "She acts the same way every time, too," said George. "She sure likes
playing crew chief."
       "Boss lady, you mean," muttered Katrina under her breath, so softly
even her imp missed it. Normally cheerful and eager to help, Katrina found her




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lack of inches to be a real handicap in operations of this sort. She was happy
to step away when the load was on the ground, and reach for the descending
packages of struts and telescoping poles.
       Paying only moderate attention to Shirley's shouted directions, the
crew moved into their well-practiced drill of assembling the wing sections on
the airplane. Using the telescoping poles, they erected a tripod over the
first wing section with a winch at the apex. With a boost from Richard,
Shirley climbed up on top of the stub of wing on _Dragonfly_, and operated the
winch control from there, lifting the wing section up by its central lug set
over its center of mass, while Richard, George, Sam, and Deirdre guided the
wing section until the edges of the larger of its open ends was matched up
with the opening in the wing stub. Inside the hollow wing stub waited the
Christmas Branch assigned to the _Dragonfly_, holding an internal strut
Katrina had handed it. Once the new section of wing was nearly in place, the
Christmas Branch jumped the narrow gap and installed the strut inside the new
wing section. With the sparkling motile still inside, helping to guide the
edges together, the tall humans swung the hollow wing section gently into its
proper place. Just before the moment of contact, the imp removed the
protective covering from the seals on either side of the joints. At this
point, Shirley straddled the narrowing joint herself, and used her own
considerable strength to bring the two sections closer with the aid of a long,
pointed pry-bar. As the sections clicked together, and were fastened
internally by the Christmas Bush rotating lag screws into place, Shirley
slapped a gloved hand with her pry-bar and gave a satisfied snort.
       "Her favorite tool," said Sam. "Did you ever move too slowly for
Shirley?"
       "No," replied Richard, slightly puzzled.
       "I did," said Sam, reflectively rubbing a spot high up on his long
thigh. "Once."
       Deirdre, working beside him, said nothing, but glinted a bright glance
up at Sam.
       Shirley looked up at the sun. It was more than halfway between the
horizon and Gargantua overhead. "Keep it moving!" she demanded. "We've only
got a little daylight left!"
       The work continued without interruption or flaw. Finally, the last two
outer wing tip sections were installed. Joe, under Shirley's close scrutiny,
pumped the air from the wing tanks and verified that there were no leaks.
Then, while Cinnamon monitored Josephine's gauges, and Arielle monitored Joe's
gauges, the wing tanks on _Dragonfly_ were filled with the residual
monopropellant fuel left in the oversized attitude control fuel tanks inside
_Victoria_.
       As Barnard set behind Gargantua, and the noon-day eclipse darkness
fell, the crew left the _Dragonfly_ waiting on its skids on the snow-blown
rock and clambered back up into the _Victoria_ for one last meal together. In
the afternoon they would separate into two teams, one team of four people to
stay with the lander and carry out exploration missions from that fixed base,
and the other team of six people who would go off in the airplane and explore
more distant sites. As they came out of the airlock into the engineering deck
and took off their helmets, they could smell fresh-baked rolls being cooked in
the tiny galley in the crew deck above.
       "Smells good," Richard hollered up the passway ladder. "What are they
-- cinnamon buns?"
       "Just for that crack, you don't get any," came Cinnamon's retort back
down the passway. "They're just plain hot-dog rolls. We're having
pseudo-wieners and carrot sticks for lunch. Even you should be able to eat
those without spilling food inside your suit."
       Since the crew assigned to the _Dragonfly_ were going right back out
after lunch, they didn't bother to take off their exploration suits, but
sprawled out, tired, on the engineering deck. Cinnamon and the Christmas
Branch brought the food down and they had a picnic on the floor. Sometime




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during the meal, however, they each took turns using the special extractor on
the engineering deck to empty out the urine collectors in their suits.
       "Say," said Richard, after he finished using the extractor. "I was
wondering how the flouwen manage in their suits. How often are we going to
have to bring them back to the habitat tank?"
       "They can last a long time, but if it becomes urgent, they just unzip
their fly and let it fly," replied Shirley.
       "You're kidding!" said Richard. "They don't have a..."
       Cinnamon, who had made a detailed study of the flouwen needs, gave
Richard a lecture on flouwen physiology. "The flouwen, because their body is
made of undifferentiated cells, and because of the highly varied environment
they evolved in, have a lot of ability to control their body chemistry.
Although they require some ammonia, and prefer water with ten percent ammonia
to ninety percent water, their ocean on Eau varies from extremely cold
ammonia-rich water near the poles to extremely hot ammonia-free water near the
vent fields. So, they've evolved an internal chemistry that is tolerant to
large temperature variations and chemical concentrations."
       "Including waste products?" asked Richard.
       "Yes," she replied. "The metabolism of their individual cells produces
waste, and since the lifetime of the cells is only a few weeks, when the cells
die they become waste too. Normally, in the ocean of Eau, the flouwen body
just transports those wastes to its surface, and dumps them. When they are in
their suits, however, they just concentrate the unwanted compounds in a
globule somewhere in their body. Since we have asked them to avoid polluting
this planet, they will normally wait until they return to their habitat to
void the contents of their waste globule. But, if necessary, as Shirley said,
they can just unzip their suits, and bring the globule to the surface and
expel it."
       "I'm glad they're house-trained!" Richard said with relief. "I'd hate
to smell what they are trying to get rid of. They smell _bad_ enough fresh."
       *Hey!* came Little Red's voice over Richard's imp.
       As the crew finished eating, George reminded them of their plans for
the afternoon.
       "As soon as you've finished eating, head back outside. Even though it's
still dark, we can use the outside lights on the two vehicles while we
transfer personal belongings, supplies, tools -- everything Josephine has
listed -- into the airplane. Then, all we'll need to do at daylight is a
walk-around inspection, then go aboard and take off. Our first and most
important mission is to find a good spot to put the flouwen into the water."
       *Good!* interrupted Little Red's voice. *About time!*
       "May take us a while," warned Richard. "We need a hole in the ice, but
not a boiling geyser, interesting though it might be to drop you into the pot,
Little Red."
       *Hunh,* said Little Red, unworried.
       "So, flouwen," George continued, "It's back into your suits, so you can
fly with us in the _Dragonfly_." He turned to look at the assembled crew. "As
planned, Thomas, Sam, Cinnamon, and Katrina will be staying here with the
lander at the main base, taking shifts at the communications center."
       "Good," said Katrina. "That'll give me and Cinnamon time to put some of
those samples we collected under a good microscope."
       "And I'll be wanting to explore the geology around the landing site,"
said Sam.
       "Of course," replied George. "And all of you can take turns getting to
know the local icerug community better. We need to know what life is like, out
here in the icerug equivalent of 'the sticks', as well as what goes on in the
big city. Make sure, however, that one of you is always at the communications
console." He got up and reached for his helmet. "The remaining six of us
assigned to the _Dragonfly_ had better start packing."
       "Good!" said Thomas. "The sooner you guys go, the sooner we can take
apart your bunks and arrange them into something more comfortable to sleep in




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than a hanging harness."
       "Amen to that," said Sam. "My feet are still sore from trying to sleep
vertically last night."
       "I'll start the flouwen transfer system, if someone will go into the
airlock and watch to make sure they get pumped into their suits safely," said
Cinnamon, climbing up the passway rungs to the flight deck at the top of the
lander.
       The rest of the mid-day eclipse seemed very brief to Deirdre, as, with
the others, she quickly sorted through the few belongings she would take over
to her storage area on the _Dragonfly_. Shirley glanced quizzically at the
small bundle Deirdre had under one arm, the other arm swinging Foxx's travel
cage, caps now screwed onto its porthole-like windows to make it a
hermetically sealed box.
       "You _do_ travel light, don't you, Deirdre? That parcel would barely
hold my extra socks, let alone shampoos and lotions."
       Deirdre didn't bother to answer. The efficient shower aboard the
_Dragonfly_ worked as well as the one in her apartment aboard _Prometheus_,
and Deirdre was content with the daily scrubbing that kept her fair skin
glowing and smelling faintly of soap. She was soon back in the airlock,
helping Richard check out the drysuited flouwen.
       Cinnamon's voice was warm and reassuring over the link from the
communications console as she checked the quality of the communications
channels to and from each of the flouwen's chestpacks. "We'll be able to keep
in constant touch, I know. David's got a great software package rigged up to
insure that, he'll tell you about it as you go."
       *Let's go!* said Little Red as soon as he had filled up his suit and
pushed out the unwanted water. He surged towards the outer airlock door,
heedless of Little White and Little Purple still going through their checkout.
       "Now, when you meet up with the coelasharks, be sure to find out where
they eat, as well as what sort of food it is," said Deirdre.
       Katrina, who was now monitoring the airlock controls, and watching the
suiting up process through the airlock porthole, injected her own admonitions.
"We need to know if they are entirely dependent on the volcanic vents for
food. But be very careful. Even if they are intelligent, they sound like they
are bad-tempered. We don't want you ending up as part of their menu!" Katrina
laughed gaily, but Little Red stopped in his tracks.
       *Hunh, more like other way around,* he growled.
       "Aye, it would be," agreed Deirdre softly. When she and Richard had the
flouwen checked out, Katrina opened the outer airlock door. One after the
other, the flouwen were lowered to the ground, where they plodded, slid, and
rolled their way across the snow-blown rock, looking like penguins crossing
hummocky ice, until they got to the airlock door of the _Dragonfly_. There,
Richard boosted them up, while Deirdre cycled them through.
       The airlock for _Dragonfly_ was under the left wing. Inside, it opened
into the back portion of the long fuselage that was used for utility functions
-- suit storage, air conditioning, laundry, and the Christmas Branch's work
wall -- a labyrinth of narrow corridors lined from floor to ceiling with racks
of compact analyzing and synthesizing machines. Aft of the work wall was the
power conditioning section and behind that was stored the spare air and water,
and a large tank of monopropellant fuel that augmented the fuel tanks interior
to the hollow wings. The equipment, consumables, and fuel, along with a heavy
lead shadow shield, provided shielding for the crew from the radiation emitted
by the small nuclear reactor in the tail.
       Forward of the utilities section, closed off by privacy curtains at
each end, was the crew quarters section with six private bunks and a toilet
and shower. Forward of the bunks was a small galley and food storage, and
forward of that were the two science consoles and the computer console. At the
nose of the plane was the cockpit for the pilot and copilot, while between the
cockpit and the work consoles were the port and starboard science scan
platforms, whose sensors looked out through the bubble-like domed windows.




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Because the imaging sensors on the scan platforms produced a better view of
the outside than could be seen with the human eye, the only views out of the
plane were from the cockpit windows, around the instruments in the scan
platform domes, and through the porthole in the airlock door.
       Arielle and George went forward to the cockpit, swiveling by the chairs
at the science consoles occupied by Richard and Deirdre, Arielle stopping off
at the galley first to grab an algae-shake to take with her. David followed
along behind and settled himself in at the computer console, while Shirley
stayed in the back, checking out and hanging up all their exploration suits.
Then, she jury-rigged a harness inside the airlock to hold each of the three
flouwen, ostensibly for their safety in case the flight became rough, but
mostly to keep them from getting in the way. As the sun was peeking out again
from behind Gargantua, Arielle, David, and Josephine put Joe through the final
checkout of the _Dragonfly_.
       "Self-check routine continuing -- eighteen." Josephine's voice was
precise, and so was Joe's.
       "Right, luv. Eighteen." Arielle was amused by this, but recognized the
phrase meant only the more traditional "Affirmative", as did Joe's occasional,
"Oo, aye". Sitting in her favorite place, at the controls of the _Dragonfly_,
Arielle felt the warm sense of anticipation she always did before a flight.
Interested she certainly was in the alien icerugs, and eager to learn more
always, she still felt most at home in this seat, with her hands waiting in
her lap, holding the remains of her algae-shake. She used her imp to call the
galley imp forward, and after handing it the empty shake tumbler, she took
firm hold of the controls.
       Seated beside Arielle, George contented himself with admiring the skill
with which she piloted the aeroplane. With exquisite care, she powered up the
electrically driven VTOL fans on the wings, and the craft slowly and smoothly
rose vertically from the rocky surface. Only at safe altitude did she increase
reactor power and cut to the jet-bypass turbines, which sucked in air from the
alien atmosphere, heated it up by passing it through heat exchangers connected
to the nuclear reactor, and jetted the hot air out the exhaust nozzle in the
tail to provide forward thrust.
       Despite Shirley's company, Little Red was soon bored. *Doesn't feel
like flying at all.*
       ^And nothing to see,^ said Little White.
       "Why not check the mail?" suggested David through his imp. "That's what
I do when I'm stuck somewhere."
       Deirdre chuckled. How often she'd seen Katrina, confronting a
recalcitrant problem, nonchalantly stand and stretch and stroll away,
murmuring something about seeing if there were any messages.
       *Mail?* Little Red was puzzled, but Little Purple was pleased with the
idea of mail.
       #We can use our suits to talk to our primary selves on Rocheworld.#
       A query was put through Joe, to Josephine, and then to James, who
opened up a link between the flouwen drysuits and the underwater
communications console in Agua Dulce bay on the Eau lobe of Rocheworld.
Although the transmission delay through the laser communicators was several
minutes long, since Rocheworld was now moving closer to Barnard in its highly
elliptical orbit, the massive flouwen back on Rocheworld could indeed
communicate with their traveling small buds. Soon, messages were on their way
back, and as the words of support and encouragement began to be received, all
three flouwen settled more comfortably into their confining suits.
       "Nothing like a letter from home," said David, just a little wistfully,
as he monitored the communications link. Home was only minutes away for the
flouwen, while for the humans it was six years -- twelve years for a round
trip message.
       "Look at all the icerugs down there!" exclaimed Richard as they rose
higher into the air. "They cover the ice clear to the horizon."
       "They _do_ call themselves the 'coverers-of-the-ice'," reminded




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Deirdre, who was monitoring the imaging instruments on the scan platform that
looked in the other direction from the _Dragonfly_. "But, I'm seeing, on the
left there, out about a kilometer, there's none at all. It must be we're on
the edge, here, of the colony."
       "Look at all the different colors," said David appreciatively,
switching his screen to Richard's. "Peacock blue, cerulean blue, malachite,
there's a sort of lapis -- no two of them exactly alike."
       "It's a grand view, indeed," said Deirdre. "We can collect some
statistics, with that number of samples. Josephine, what is the average area
per icerug?"
       "Discounting the regions near the boundary, which are bound to be
atypical, the average area seems to be about four thousand square meters,"
Josephine replied. "That would be a square about sixty-five meters on a side,
although they seem to favor triangular shapes that allow a number of them to
come together at one point."
       "What's that come to in acres?" asked Richard.
       "About an acre, or four-tenths of an hectare," replied Deirdre, who had
learned both systems in her youth. "And why so much, I wonder?" she continued.
"So large as that, they cannot move easily, nor can they get together
readily."
       "Well," suggested Richard. "If they're plants, running on
photosynthesis, maybe they need all that area to capture enough of Barnard's
weak light to keep their node alive. Josephine? What is the total illumination
falling on an icerug?"
       "Since the visual luminosity of Barnard is only one two-thousandth that
of the Sun, while Barnard is about four times closer to Zulu than the Sun is
to Earth, the light here is one five-hundredth that falling on earth, or about
three watts per square meter, so the total illumination on a four thousand
square meter icerug is twelve kilowatts. Since we don't know how efficient
their photosynthesis process is, the amount that gets converted into useful
energy is unknown. At night, when the illumination is coming from light
reflected from Gargantua, the incident illumination drops to four percent of
that during the day, or about a hundred and sixty watts. There is also a
substantial infrared output from both Barnard and Gargantua that cannot be
used for photosynthesis, but which does help somewhat in keeping them warmer
than their surroundings."
       "We humans expend hundreds of watts while active," reasoned Deirdre.
"And the nodes are about our size. If these creatures can store up energy by
making new flesh during the lighted hours, they then have it then to use to
stay warm during the dark times."
       As the _Dragonfly_ headed away from the lander, Richard and Deirdre
kept their view-screens focussed on the surface below, searching for
interesting features in the monotonous landscape of acre after acre of
blue-green icerugs.
       "The average size of the icerug areas is dropping as we get closer to
the city region around the Manannan geyser," Josephine reported. "Their areas
are now closer to one thousand square meters."
       "Might be getting more energy from the geyser and less from
photosynthesis," remarked Deirdre.
       The infrared scanners methodically swept the terrain, measuring and
recording the varying temperatures of the icerug surface. Deirdre and Richard
monitored the infrared image on their console screens, watching for a telltale
flat yellow region that would mean an open water lake formed by a local hot
spring. Suddenly they spoke simultaneously: "There, off to the left!" The
_Dragonfly_ banked smoothly and started to descend as Arielle circled around
the lake, looking for a good spot to land.
       "Look you, how none of the icerugs go up close to the shore," observed
Deirdre.
       "If the ice along the lake shore is like the ice shelves around
Antarctica, those are dangerous places to be," replied Richard. "If a large




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ice floe breaks off, an icerug could be torn in two -- or find itself stranded
on a rapidly shrinking iceberg with no way to get back."
       Below them, the glacier ice around the lake shore was obviously very
thick, rising sheer some three meters from the water. The extreme edge of the
cliff was irregular and sharp, suggesting that pieces had broken off abruptly
rather than been worn away. Floating in the lake were pale blue-green icebergs
and large flat-topped ice floes that had obviously calved from the icy
shoreline. Arielle took the little plane slowly along the cliff-top shore,
looking carefully for an area smooth enough to land. With a pleased grunt, she
veered into a circle, and steered the _Dragonfly_ into a gentle descent onto a
wind-slicked slope, which rose gently at the far end. Using her VTOL fans, she
settled the _Dragonfly_ slowly into the snow, ready to lift out again if the
landing struts didn't find support. The snow cover wasn't thick, and they
settled smoothly onto the hard ice underneath. Even as Arielle began the
routine of closing down the engines and securing the plane ready for take-off,
Deirdre and Richard were up out of their seats, Deirdre to stow Foxx in her
exploration suit, and Richard heading for the rear to help Shirley with the
flouwen.
       "Just wait and stay still until I unhook you!" said Shirley to the
three harnessed flouwen. Little Red was not a patient creature, and in his
eagerness to get out was beginning to surge awkwardly within his harness.
       "We have to have Richard outside the airlock to help you down," Shirley
reminded them. Richard quickly put on his exploration suit, helped Deirdre
check hers, and the two ducked through the airlock, and then out onto the
surface of the snow. They stared around them in the dim silence, listening to
the moan of the icy wind through the _Dragonfly_'s landing struts. Barnard's
light was bright enough, in this clear air, to sparkle redly on the dense
snowpack, and Deirdre stamped, enjoying the brief glitter. Both people
grinned, in quick appreciation of their strange surroundings, before turning
to help the flouwen.
       "Okay, Little Red, easy does it!" The strong shoulders of both humans
carefully took most of weight of the hundred kilo flouwen in a controlled
tumble to the ground, and Deirdre assisted him upright with a cheerful
"Upsy-daisy!" before turning to catch Little White.
       ^Near the water! I can tell,^ said Little White, ^Even inside this
suit. Must we really keep these things on?^ It was unlike Little White to
sound like complaining, and George looked at the creature with sympathy.
       "We talked over the need for the suits very thoroughly, you know," he
said gently. "Not only does it make it possible for us to know exactly where
you are at all times, it protects both you and the water from any mutual
pollution."
       Shirley clucked in sympathy: "It really _is_ important, but I know how
you must feel -- it'd be like swimming in an old-fashioned bathing costume."
       Deirdre said nothing, her mind automatically rejecting the analogy.
Flouwen and human sensations were so alien to each other that comparisons were
worse than useless. "You'll be able to get along just fine, Little White. Here
comes David, and he'll be explaining how your communication link will work."
       David emerged from the lock, just as Josephine opened a cargo door in
the bottom of the _Dragonfly_ and lowered a small amphibious crawler to the
ground. Since it didn't need a large cargo hold and long-lasting power supply,
this crawler was smaller than the exploration crawlers -- only one meter long
and a half-meter wide and high. Its name, _Babble_, was painted in bright red
on its side. It crawled out from under the airplane's belly on its finned
treads, equally effective for travel on ice or water. David jumped down beside
_Babble_, and began to explain its workings to the aliens.
       "_Babble_ will be going into the water behind you three, and will
always be trying to stay with you. Of course, since you can swim much faster
than it can, even in those suits, it won't be able to always keep up, but it
will soon catch up with you when you stop to explore something."
       *Not going to wait for it,* grumbled Little Red.




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       "Of course not," said David patiently. "It's just your message center.
See, this bubble underneath is its sonar dome. It'll be listening to your
messages from below sent through the sonar transponder in your suits. When it
gets them, it transmits the message by radio through this antenna on top, up
to the commsats, and thence to Joe, Josephine, James and us. We can answer you
too, and the messages will go by radio up to the commsats, then down through
the radio antenna, out the sonar bubble, and down to you. When you aren't
actively sending messages back and forth, you'll be hearing its "ping!" every
six seconds tracking you, but you don't have to answer, it's just following
along."
       "These flipper treads on the side help it to swim through the water,"
said Shirley. "It can even move the crawler over the ice, if it has to. Rather
like having a water beetle for a pet!"
       *Pet dumber than usual,* said Little Red rudely.
       Deirdre was amused; Little Red's sulks were not going to obtain his
freedom from the hampering suits and the communications relay crawler, but
they were entertaining. David, however, reacted in defense of his ingeniously
contrived radio link; the crawler had been engineered on Earth and modified by
Caroline and Shirley for this mission, but the high reliability multiredundant
multichannel communications software that would maintain contact with the
flouwen despite underwater sonar channel fading and wave noise was his own.
       "Not at all like a pet," he said. "It's a two-way radio, that's all,
but one made just for you, and for this place, and these conditions. Even
under the ice, you'll never be alone!" There was a brief pause, after those
triumphant words.
       ^Hunh,^ said Little White dubiously. Little Red's response was a
wordless snort. David's suit computer made no attempt to translate it.
       Arielle had scrambled out of the _Dragonfly_ last, and the nine living
creatures stood in silence, surveying the eerie beauty in front of them. Tiny
wavelets lipped soundlessly at the snow beneath their feet, and farther out,
chunks of brash ice of all sizes and shapes floated on the quiet surface,
forming a disjointed mosaic whose pattern constantly and slowly shifted.
Farther out yet, the shrinking icebergs, greenish-gray in the red light of
Barnard, increased the perceived perspective of distance; their dwindling
masses fooling the human eye into thinking they were very far away.
       Shirley and Richard moved swiftly to fasten a winch to a jury-rigged
A-frame derrick that was long enough swing the winch out beyond the jagged
cliff-face. David switched on the programmed personality that was _Babble_,
and nodded approval as the calm little voice began.
       "In the water, over the ice -- I splash along, crawl along, follow
Little Red, follow Little Purple, follow Little White, not worry, not trouble,
just follow and talk and listen, and chatter and listen, and babble and
listen, and call and listen, and talk..."
       Deirdre had been helping Little White adjust the amplification on the
transponder in his suit. The crawler's voice amused her -- but Little White
spoke in obvious dismay.
       ^All the _time_ that thing going?^
       Firmly though she refused to succumb to anthropomorphism, Deirdre felt
quick sympathy for Little White, and hastened to reassure the flouwen.
       "No, no, it's just blethering, now, so David can test it out. As soon
as you're away it'll only be the ping-signal, unless you call for more."
       Little Red too had stopped, to turn almost menacingly towards the
little crawler, but David was finished checking _Babble_ out, and it stopped
talking, so he resumed his ponderous progress toward the edge of the lake.
       George and Richard hoisted the hundred kilo crawler easily between them
in the low gravity of Zulu. Walking over to the brink of the ice, they hung it
from the hook at the end of the cable and stepped back to join the others.
       Carefully maneuvering the lines and the winch, Shirley and Richard
swung the crawler out and over the edge, to lay it gently upon the surface of
the water. As the lines were released and removed, the flipper-treads on




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either side of the machine began their slow and steady motion.
       "Off I go, into the water. PING and listen..."
       Little White and Little Purple edged close to the rim of the
snow-covered ice, and the humans came up to assist them. Attaching a line to a
lifting point on the flouwen's backpack harness, they used the winch to lower
Little White's cumbersome bulk into the water. Spreading out the baggy suit
into a flattened shape that was suitable for swimming through the water,
Little White dove below the surface with a happy-sounding sigh. Little Purple
soon followed, and the two humans turned to reach for Little Red.
       Little Red, however, had quietly moved back, away from the shore, and
was standing, waiting -- for all to notice.
       "What is it, Little Red?" asked Richard in surprise. "Aren't you going
to let us lower you..." then he grinned, in comprehension. Portentously,
dramatically, Little Red tilted to one side in the round-bottomed suit and
began to move, rolling over the ice faster and faster, his head whirling
around and around at dizzying speed while his pseudopods pushed on the ice to
make himself go faster. By the time he reached the edge of the ice, his speed
was sufficient to propel him out over the water with a triumphant shout, and
he cannonballed into the water with a tremendous and satisfying splash that
sent a geyser of water up onto the shore. The drenched humans chuckled; such
obvious joy was a delight to see, and the drops rolled harmlessly off their
suits.
       "Water warm!" was the first communication from the flouwen, already
nearly invisible deep under the clear dark water.
       "Only someone brought up in an ocean made out of an ammonia-water
antifreeze solution would think that ice-cold water was warm," remarked
Richard dryly.
       The little crawler set off busily after the flouwen, it's treading
flippers churning smoothly. Watching it move across the surface, the humans
could follow the direction the flouwen were taking, down below. Meanwhile,
_Babble_ was transmitting back the comments that the flouwen were making.
       ^Water feels warmer than home, even through suit,^ commented Little
White. ^Not bad, but when we get closer to the hot vents, we may be glad we
have suits on, so we don't lose ammonia.^
       Shirley and George exchanged a pleased look -- the comment was as close
as Little White was likely to come with a compliment.
       *Find coelasharks! Come _on_!* roared Little Red, and the small
crawler's amphibious tread splashed up a froth of foam as it headed rapidly
off into the lake and was soon lost to sight of the watching people on the
shore.
--------
         *CHAPTER 06 -- SPEAKING*
       Back at the lander, Barnard was just setting behind some low clouds
hanging over the leading pole horizon when Sam got to his feet, wincing just a
little as his back straightened. He had been kneeling on the cold basalt for
nearly a half-hour, driving a corer through the stone to extract a pristine
sample of rock from a location deep beneath the possibly contaminated surface,
while leaving behind, in an even deeper pilot hole, a thermocouple probe to
measure the temperature gradient through the rock.
       "Uff. A little cold and a little gravity -- sure makes a difference to
the old knee joints and backbone, doesn't it?"
       Thomas agreed, as he raised his ever-present electrocamera to take a
snapshot of Sam holding his prize -- a cylinder of fine-grained dark gray rock
with crystallites of shiny augite and greenish-yellow olivine embedded in it.
The electrocamera chittered as it stored the picture away in its memory.
       "It helps to keep moving. I've now been completely around the perimeter
of the knob and have a set of shots that should give us a close-up panoramic
view of our surroundings that'll complement the long-distance one I took from
on top of _Victoria_ earlier today. In the process I got a lot of shots of
icerugs carpeting the ice, and a few nodes, but they seem to be staying well




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back from the rock."
       The two of them started toward the lander as the deep red sunset faded
and the sky darkened, lit only by the half-moon of Gargantua. "Well, how does
it look, Sam? This landing site we're on -- is it just another bump of rock,
or what? And how come we seem to be in sort of a hole, with ridges of ice all
around us?"
       "Well, it's basalt, that's for sure -- and that means its a lava knob.
It's probably come from a small lava extrusion, couple thousand years ago. It
can't have been much longer, since it's still warm enough to melt snow. The
heat must also melt back the glacier ice, causing this depression we're in.
Once I get this sample back to _Prometheus_ to put through an isotope ratio
analysis, we should be able to pin the age down to a few hundred years.
Meanwhile, as soon as the thermocouple probe stabilizes and I can get a
reading of the temperature gradient, I'll be able to figure out its cooling
rate. That ought to help me pin down the date it was formed. But, it would be
helpful to have some idea of how big the knob is."
       "I paced it off," said Thomas. "It's nearly circular, and about four
hundred and twenty meters in diameter -- plus or minus about twenty meters
depending upon which diameter you take."
       "But we've no idea of how deep down it goes," said Sam. "I'd like to
talk with the icerugs again -- and see how much they can tell us of their
local geology."
       The two men returned to the lander, where Cinnamon cycled them through
the airlock.
       "Nice paperweight," remarked Cinnamon, as she saw Sam's prize. "Little
lacking in color, though."
       "What do you mean?" retorted Sam. "Its got lots of color. See..." he
pointed at various spots on the dark gray cylinder. "Greenish gray, bluish
gray, reddish gray, blackish gray, and grayish gray. David'd see more, of
course."
       "Well Cinnamon, what have you been doing while we've been out playing
in the snow?" asked Thomas, as he handed his helmet to the Christmas Branch.
"Do you have our hot chocolate ready?"
       "I want marshmallows in mine," added Sam.
       "You can order your own from the galley imp," replied Cinnamon.
"Although I doubt you'll get real marshmallows no matter how you ask. As for
what I've been doing, the Christmas Branch and I have opened up the sick bay
into the sleeping bay region that the _Dragonfly_ crew vacated, and I've
checked out all the medical equipment."
       "Did you get the remaining four bunks rearranged, too?" asked Sam.
       "Yes. You'll be able to sleep horizontally tonight," said Cinnamon.
       "If we can figure out when 'tonight' is," said Thomas. "These
fourteen-point-eight-hour days are going to make scheduling sleep periods
difficult."
       "Since it's easier to fall asleep when you go to bed late, rather than
early, I suggest switching to a thirty hour biological day," said Cinnamon.
"Stay up through a Zulu day, a Zulu night, and another Zulu day, then sleep
through the next Zulu night."
       "Sounds fine to me," said Thomas cheerfully. "Plenty to see and do.
We'll keep busy, all right."
       "You can also take catnaps while you're on watch," added Sam, who was
nominal commander of the four-person contingent assigned to _Victoria_..
"Josephine can wake you up if you're needed. And -- speaking of watch duty --
you're on for the next four hours."
       "But aren't we going to visit the icerugs again?" asked Thomas. "I
wanted to go and take some more pictures."
       "Next time," said Sam.
       "Then take one of my cameras and get some shots for me," said Thomas,
while wondering to himself which of his precious electrocameras to trust with
Sam.




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       By the time they had gathered back down on the engineering deck to put
on their exploration suits, Katrina and the Christmas Branch had loaded
sampling tools, collection bags, and various items of portable analyzing gear
into two large back packs and one small one. With the help of Josephine's
Christmas Branch operating the winch, the three explorers were lowered down to
the surface, Cinnamon and Sam riding down first, with Katrina and the three
packs following. Although dimmed slightly by the high, thin snow clouds,
Gargantua was approaching full-moon phase and the night was bright enough to
travel safely.
       "Here you go, Sam, and this one's yours, Cinnamon." Katrina quickly
strapped the smaller pack on her own back.
       "Taking it a bit easy, Katrina?" said Sam, easing the burden onto stiff
shoulders.
       "A little," she admitted. "But I think it's fair enough. If I tried to
carry the one I gave you, Sam, I'd never make it up to the top of the ridge."
       Cinnamon smiled agreement as she shouldered her pack; better to have
their diminutive biochemist bouncing along in the lead, rather than struggling
to keep up.
       "I can't wait to get samples of all the icerugs so I can compare them
with the samples that we got last time."
       "Slow down, Katrina," said Cinnamon. "You don't just march up to new
acquaintances and start cutting pieces off them!"
       "But we've so little time!" said Katrina.
       "We'll do it right," said Sam decidedly. "Start with the general and
proceed to the particular. If we go tactfully, we'll get a lot more
information than if we antagonize any ... body."
       Cinnamon was surprised at this attitude -- she had not thought Sam
would be this careful in his dealings with aliens. Sam, however, was a
pragmatist; it worked better to ease living creatures along, heading them
gently in the direction one wanted to go; this worked with humans as well as
longhorns. It was only rocks one could split open with a carefully placed
wallop.
       "Are you going to be our ... speaker to the aliens, today?" Katrina
asked, curious.
       Sam considered. Cinnamon, remembering with a smile George's
spur-of-the-moment orations of yesterday, said, "If you are, better polish up
the fancy phrases, Sam! Somehow I don't think they'll come as easy to you!"
       "Sooner him than me," said Katrina ruefully. "I really am so anxious to
probe, I know I'd blurt out something clumsy. Cinnamon?"
       "I'm no good at speeches, but I feel -- something -- friendly with
these creatures. I think I could talk _with_ them, but not at them."
       "I'll start out like George did," suggested Sam. "But I'll keep it
brief, and see if we can lead into the three of us splitting up so we can
learn more, quicker. If they resent that, we'll yield, but let's each one try
to get friendly with one of them, kind of."
       "Good luck chatting up the aliens," came Thomas's voice over their suit
imps as he monitored their progress over their imp links. He also was having
Josephine store the images that were being captured by the video cameras in
their helmets. As they talked, the humans had left the rock done, climbed up
the small ridge of ice, and approached the intersection where the aliens they
had met previously had been. The exploration crawler, _Splish_, was there,
waiting. A light snow was beginning to fall, and the whispery rustle it made
as it touched the frozen surface was all the sound they heard as they stood,
rather awkwardly, and looked around. At their feet was a place where three
wedge-shaped segments of icerug carpets met -- turquoise, azure, and jade in
color. Off in the distance they could see the nodes of two of the icerugs next
to each other at the far corners of their carpets, talking with a few of their
neighbors occupying the areas on that side of their bodies. The body of the
third carpet, the turquoise one that belonged to Gray-Mote, seemed vacant,
with no node visible anywhere on the triangular carpet, one hundred meters on




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a side.
       Soon, as they watched in fresh amazement, two of the improbable
creatures they had met the day before started over their velvety naps to greet
them. Then, from nearby, another node seemed to rise up out of a
turquoise-colored depression, and arrived first. The creature spoke instantly,
in tones of such benevolence that the humans relaxed even before the
translated words of welcome sounded in their helmets.
       "Greetings! Greetings! Greetings!" Emanated the repeated sound from the
visibly vibrating turquoise sides of Gray-Mote's head.
       "Make sure you get lots of pictures," Thomas reminded Sam over their
imp link. "Those video cameras in your helmets are all right for data
recording, but you can't blow the images up very far before the pixels start
showing."
       Watching Gray-Mote's approach, with Thomas's camera clicking and
chittering quietly in his hands, Sam tacitly agreed with Cinnamon's instincts.
This node, with the curious mote in the center of an iris of silvery gray and
its ornately embroidered cape, was obviously a creature of some authority, as
befit a physician in the community and Leader of the local association. In
their previous encounter, Sam had not noticed the device that Gray-Mote now
held in its slender turquoise tentacle, holding it up in front of its enormous
eye. With a slight jolt, all the humans recognized at once that it was a
monocle, constructed of ice in a lens of carefully polished curvature, and
held in an ornately engraved frame. Through it, the gray eye inspected them
all in turn, while the alien repeated the greeting-words in a bass that
rumbled through their helmets like a drum-roll.
       Yellow-Star arrived at this point, and they saw how clearly the
star-like design shone in the green center of its eye, even as it reiterated
the welcoming sound. Accompanying Yellow-Star was a node they had not met
before. Its iris shone a brilliant blue and it rode on an azure carpet.
       "This is Blue-Stare," introduced Yellow-Star. "The master mason for our
local association."
       Sam spoke first, and listened as his suit imp used its speaker cone to
translate his words into the booming tones of the icerug language.
       "Greetings to you, Gray-Mote. Greetings to you, Yellow-Star. And
greetings to you, Blue-Stare. We thank you for your presence. We wish to hear
more about you, to learn more about you, to see more about you."
       Fervently Sam hoped the variety of terms would indicate harmless
interest. Apparently, they did, as all three nodes began speaking almost at
once, and addressing their messages separately to the humans confronting them.
Sam struggled briefly in an attempt to listen to all the conversations, but
gave up quickly, noticing only that Cinnamon and Gray-Mote were moving slowly
off in one direction, with Cinnamon examining Gray-Mote's monocle, making sure
that the video cameras in her helmet recorded it from every angle at close
distance, while Katrina had drifted off to the side of Yellow-Star's carpet,
followed by the caped and ribboned node showing her how its harp-drum
instrument worked by playing her a ballad, accompanied by its deep bass voice.
       Sam's interest was aroused when he learned that Blue-Stare was a mason,
and he hoped the icerug could tell him more about the rock formation on which
_Victoria_ had landed. He soon learned that the mason knew "Big Rock" quite
well.
       "By our measurements, the top portion of the large warm rock here at
the surface is about four hundred meters in diameter. Do you have any idea how
deep it is, or if it gets much wider under the ice where we cannot see it?"
       There was delay, as _Splish_ carried on a side discussion with the
alien to make sure they both agreed on the conversion of meters to icerug
measurement units and back again. It was amusing to Sam to see the robot and
the alien making spanning gestures like they were describing the length of a
fish that had got away -- the robot with its shiny metal manipulators and the
icerug with its fuzzy azure tentacles.
       Blue-Stare rolled its eye back around to Sam and resumed its booming




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tones, with Sam's suit imp making the translation. "Big Rock rises 920 meters
high out of the ocean bottom, and is approximately oval in shape there, some
650 meters in one direction and 580 meters in the other."
       Sam was startled. "You're sure about that?"
       "For a long time, I and the others around Big Rock have encountered the
rock at various depths while we have been excavating our..." There was a pause
while the translation program in Sam's suit computer attempted to find the
right word, and was finally rescued by Josephine figuring out the appropriate
word from the context. "...tunnels through the ice." The booming alien word
for "tunnels" seemed to echo in Sam's ear, and then he realized that Cinnamon
and Gray-Mote were using the same word. Her next question to the icerug
physician brought a reply to which Sam listened intently.
       "Yes, I am pushing tunnels continuously down, through the ice in all
directions and into the ocean water below. I line them with my body, searching
for tiny ... bits of useful chemical compounds," Cinnamon's translation
program lamely concluded.
       "Trace elements?" guessed Cinnamon.
       "That translates correctly," was Gray-Mote's grave response.
       "How do you dig the tunnels?" asked Cinnamon.
       "Certain chemical compounds in our bodies have the capacity to dissolve
the ice; ammonia is the principal one. The digging portion of our flesh
nearest to the ice exudes the ammonia and converts the ice into liquid
ammonia-water, which the flesh then absorbs and passes back to the main body
along with any nutrients that are in solution. Our body thus forms a long
tunnel through the ice which is lined with our own tissue, which then sprouts
finer tunnels in all directions, searching for more trace elements. The water
that is produced from melting the ice in the tunnels is disposed of down a
long waste tunnel that penetrates through the ice into the ocean water
beneath. Of course, only the water and other waste products are expelled. The
ammonia is retained for reuse, while the trace elements are used to make new
flesh."
       "Your tunnels are like roots!" concluded Cinnamon. She hesitated after
the word, but the translation was apparently acceptable to Gray-Mote. "Your
root tunnels gather the water and minerals and send them to your carpet, which
uses photosynthesis to put them together to form more tissue. Just like a
plant on Earth."
       "Out here in the country, where there is plenty of unworked ice, our
bodies have no difficulty growing and spreading farther, with all the
nutrients coming from the ice and with the light from Barnard."
       Meanwhile, Yellow-Star had finished playing his ballad for Katrina, and
they now moved slowly back to the others, where Katrina joined in the
conversation about the under-ice tunnel structure of the aliens.
       "That's fascinating, Cinnamon!" said Katrina. "And in addition to being
a plant, it's an animal too, because it gathers and eats other plants and
animals. It's marvelous how these icerug bodies are made!"
       "They are ideal," replied Gray-Mote solemnly.
       "We cannot, however, travel wherever we please, as the humans seem to
be able to do," remarked Yellow-Star. "We are bound by our root system to the
ice of Ice, while the humans can travel from world to world, seeing strange
things that we will never see." Sam could almost sense a wistful tone as the
normally booming voice quieted to nearly a mumble, as Yellow-Star realized the
limitations that its ice-bound body placed on its soaring spirit.
       "I still think it's marvelous," replied Katrina cheerfully. She turned
to look again at Yellow-Star. "But there's something interesting that happened
-- when we were over there..." she pointed a short distance away. "My friend
Sam accidentally stepped backward onto your carpet while you were singing your
ballad to me. I saw him, but you did not, since your eye was looking at me.
But, although you did not see him, your eye instantly blinked when he stepped
on you, and you turned to look in that direction. Did you sense that
pressure?"




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       "Of course."
       Katrina turned to look at Cinnamon to explain why she thought the
incident was interesting. "The distance was nearly twenty meters and the eye
response was instantaneous."
       "Pretty fast reflex action," murmured Cinnamon, thinking.
       The voice of Thomas came over the imp link from _Victoria_. "I've had
Josephine pull back from memory that segment of Katrina's helmet video record.
In one frame, I can see that Sam's heel has not yet touched Yellow-Star's
carpet, while in the very next frame it has touched it, _and_ -- Yellow-Star's
eye has already started to blink."
       "The reaction time is less than one video frame!" said Cinnamon.
       "One sixtieth of a second -- seventeen milliseconds," added Thomas.
"Way faster than a human."
       "Then it can't be ionic conduction," said Katrina. "It must be electron
conduction. I must remember to make an electrical conductivity measurement on
the tissue samples once I get them into the microscope."
       Katrina, carefully patient, soon coaxed small samples of flesh from
Blue-Stare, to compare with the samples of the others she had collected
yesterday. Again, she had her biopsy punch out, but it wasn't needed. The
icerug just budded off a small portion of flaccid flesh, which Katrina popped
into a sample bag.
       "We want to thank all of you for the tissue samples, and Gray-Mote in
particular for answering all my questions," said Cinnamon. "We have learned a
great deal about your physiology."
       "Certainly," replied Gray-Mote. "And now, may I ask some questions of
my own about your bodies?" Then, Gray-Mote asked a brief series of probing
questions regarding human physiology; what their internal structure was, what
they ate, how they disposed of waste, why they were wearing protective suits;
their answers were brief but accurate, and the alien accepted them politely.
       "I noticed there were no questions about reproduction," added Cinnamon.
"It must not be a polite subject to discuss with strangers."
       "I'm also glad that they didn't ask us to reciprocate by giving them a
sample of our flesh," said Katrina. "I wouldn't mind missing some hair and
fingernails, or even a little blood, but that's it!"
       Meanwhile, Sam was using his geologist's pickaxe to chop yet another
fragment of stone free from the ice, and talking simultaneously to the alien
and the rock. "All right. Out you come, you sparkling little bit of..." He
paused to look at it carefully. "...granite, aren't you." He tapped it with
the point of his pickaxe. "Hardness about six, I'd say." He handed the stone
to _Splish_, who turned it around and around in front of its video eyes to
obtain a good record of its appearance, and then extended its manipulator over
its back to deposit the find in its cargo hold. "Do you find a lot of stones
lying about, Blue-Stare?"
       "Yes, especially after big eruptions, when there are many new rocks
thrown out by the water. Those that don't fall on us, sink quickly down
through the new snow to the hard ice below, so we look for useful bits as soon
as the eruption is over."
       Sam looked up at the sky. Through the thinning clouds he could see that
Gargantua was approaching the full-moon phase and the shadow spot of the moon
they were on had started its nightly trek across the gigantic globe that
filled a fifth of the sky. "The night is nearly half-over. It's time for me to
take shift duty and let Thomas come outside and play explorer," he said. He
added another curious bit of glinting rock to the crawler's storage bin.
"_Splish_ and I will take this assortment back to the lander," he decided.
"Give me something to analyze while I'm monitoring the comm console."
       Katrina interrupted. "If you don't mind, Sam, I'd like to take the next
comm shift duty on _Victoria_. I'm really anxious to put these samples of
icerug flesh under the tunneling array microscope. I'll take your bits of
stuff for you. Come along, _Splish_!" Quickly, before Sam could object, she
marched off, stepping carefully over the ragged drifts of snow.




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       Sam, glad that he would be able to continue talking with the icerugs,
turned to look at the aliens, who were gathered around Cinnamon, talking. He
grinned. Cinnamon's gift for listening appeared to exercise a universal
attraction.
       Gray-Mote was speaking. "It is only our usual local association meeting
held between night-middle and day-start every fourth-day, and there is nothing
momentous we plan to discuss. However, you are most welcome to attend with us
and observe."
       Thomas, busily donning his suit back on _Victoria_, heard the icerug
comment and muttered to Sam over the imp link, "Right. Out of the sky come --
simultaneously, mind you -- 'The Jelly Blobs from the Planet Rocheworld' and
'The Two-Eyed Stilt-Walkers From Outer Space', and they have 'nothing
momentous to discuss.'"
       Cinnamon bowed slightly at the invitation -- Reiki had showed her this
most formal acknowledgement of equals -- and said, "We would be most
interested in attending your local association meeting, and will come as soon
as soon as the third person in our party, Thomas, arrives." It didn't take
long for Thomas to cycle through the airlock, scramble down the Jacob's ladder
in the low gravity, and trot past Katrina and _Splish_ on their way back to
the lander.
       As Thomas arrived at the intersection where the areas of the three
icerugs met, panting slightly under the weight of the cameras and equipment
bags he was carrying, Yellow-Star glided away on its jade carpet, following
the boundary between it and Gray-Mote. "I'll see you at the entrance to the
association meeting hall."
       "You three can come with us," said Blue-Stare, opening a narrow path on
the ice between its azure carpet and Gray-Mote's turquoise carpet. The humans
hurried along the path in single file, running awkwardly in the effort to keep
up, while the nodes of the two icerugs slowed their pace to stay with them.
Sam wished suddenly for his skis -- he'd not thought of them in years, but
probably the Christmas Bush could construct something for him.
       "Where are we going?" panted Thomas.
       "It's a meeting, of some sort. Find out when we get there, I guess,"
was Cinnamon's breathless reply. After traveling a hundred meters or so, they
came to an intersection of six icerug bodies of various different blue-green
hues. Nodes of four other icerugs were there to be introduced to the humans.
       "This is Smooth-Brown, the teacher for the area," said Blue-Stare,
introducing a heather colored node with an eye of deep, dark brown with almost
no streaks or flecks in it. "This is Lavender-Blue, my apprentice; Green-Ring,
the butcher; and Five-Arm, communicator between our local association and the
next one leeward." Further ahead, the humans could see the more of the alien
nodes in a procession through the light snow-storm toward a depression in the
ground at the further vertex of Smooth-Brown's heather carpet. One of them was
the recognizable jade-colored node of Yellow-Star, traveling along the far
side of Smooth-Brown's area.
       As the three humans and the six icerugs traveled together down the path
along a boundary between Smooth-Brown's heather carpet and Lavender-Blue's
teal one, the humans slowed to study the curious fashion in which the nodes of
Blue-Stare, Green-Ring, Five-Arms, and Gray-Mote traveled after they had left
their own home carpets. Along the meter-wide path of open ice between
Smooth-Brown and Lavender-Blue, lay four narrow trails of carpet, about ten
centimeters wide, each connected back to the vertex of the individual's
triangular area; azure for Blue-Stare, moss for Green-Ring, spruce for
Five-Arms, and turquoise for Gray-Mote. There was a twenty-centimeter wide
path of clear ice left for the humans to walk on. The pedestals of each icerug
moved smoothly along its trail of similarly-colored flesh, which widened to
accommodate the pedestal as it went past, while the neighboring trails
automatically shrank in width, when touched, to make room. The nodes of
Lavender-Blue and Smooth-Brown, of course, traveled on their own carpet bodies
which bordered the path. Cinnamon stopped to bend down and look closely, and




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then she walked on with the others.
       "They get very close," she said. "But none of them touch each other."
       "What happens at intersections?" wondered Sam. All three paused at the
next intersection, and peered closely at the multicolored trails as they met,
some of them crossing each other. "Look, the spruce colored one tunnels down
into the ice to go under the others," said Thomas, his gloved finger pointing
to the reappearance on the other side of the path of the spruce strand. "But
it still manages not to touch them." He quickly photographed the curious
tangle of colored trails. The answer to the unasked query of how a
two-meter-high node could pass through a tiny tunnel, was answered as the
spruce pedestal of Five-Arms, following its spruce trail along the path,
simply picked up its leading edge, and in a flowing motion "stepped" over the
intervening trail of a different color and resumed its glide along its own
trail on the other side of the crossing tunnel.
       "The flesh just disconnected from the trail and connected again on the
other side!" said Cinnamon in amazement.
       "'Pears to me these things have a skin like the flouwen," said Sam.
"More like a liquid than a membrane. Sure is different from our skin, which is
flexible enough, but not so loose you can tear it off and then fasten it
somewhere else whenever you want to."
       The humans, after watching Five-Arms pass, raced to catch their guides,
who had stopped to wait for them at the underground entrance to the meeting
hall.
       "It will be pleasant to be indoors, out of the snow," remarked
Blue-Stare to Sam, casually, "Although it will cost us some energy since we
must provide our own light." A concave depression formed itself in the head
portion of Blue-Stare's node and began to emit a blue glow, which shone in the
direction the eye was looking.
       The humans slowed their steps, seeing ahead of them an oval opening in
the side of an ice bank, into which a number of icerug nodes were gliding and
disappearing. As each icerug node started down the tunnel that led
underground, their bodies too began to emit a glow from the head portion of
their node to illuminate the path before them. With senses alert, the humans
followed them into the tunnel, unhooking permalights from their belts to light
their own way. Since the tunnel was tall enough to admit the icerug nodes, it
was taller than the humans, and smoothly sided with solid ice. The angle of
the floor sloped downwards steeply, and the booted feet of the humans began to
slide. Trying not to step on the multitude of colored trails leading downward,
Cinnamon lost her balance, clutched vainly at the hard-frozen walls, and sat
down hard in the center of the path. She gasped, and the two men beside her
grabbed her arms and attempted to lift her to her feet. In the process they
all fell and began to slide helplessly down the tunnel. They finally arrived
at a level surface in a headlong tumble, and looked around.
       From their undignified position, they were able to see that they were
in a large cavern, whose walls and ceilings were apparently made of dressed
stone arches supporting blocks of carved ice, which had been arranged into
geometric designs made up of triangles and hexagons. Light from the nodes of
two dozen icerugs illuminated a scene of quiet peace, as the strange alien
eyes were turned in mild curiosity towards the untidy little heap of humanity.
       Sam's long legs felt as clumsy as a colt's as he struggled to his feet.
Once more upright, Cinnamon felt her breathing slow, and she looked about her
with amazement. Thomas's camera was in action again, and he walked without
hindrance through the crowd of aliens, stepping carefully over any of the
colored trails that he saw. Sam and Cinnamon followed, with growing confidence
as they observed that even an inadvertent step directly upon a trail seemed to
cause no distress to any of the nodes. Sam, conscious of his duty as nominal
commander of the home base party, put in a call to the lander.
       "Katrina? Josephine? Can you hear me?" A reassuring reply came quickly
back.
       "I have been monitoring you constantly," came Josephine's cool reply.




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"You really should have checked with me before you went underground, you
know."
       "How is the connection?" asked Sam, properly chastened.
       "Perfect," replied Josephine. "The signal strength is down about six
decibels, but I have thirty-two in reserve. The ice, being well below
freezing, transmits the radio channels from your suit quite well -- even the
video images from your helmet cameras are noise-free."
       "And very interesting they are, too," added Katrina.
       With their communications secure, the beauty of the room began to
fascinate the humans; the constantly shifting lights on the icerug bodies, and
the light reflecting from the large glistening icerug eyes, glittered from the
icy faceting of the walls like a pastel kaleidoscope and was mirrored in the
ceiling curving above them. Around them, the murmurs of icerugs to each other
was like the familiar murmur of any congregation, benign and soothing, but
deep in tone, like a group of pipe organs talking softly to each other. In
approximately the center of the room was a raised area. Judging from the
number of icerug nodes who glided up and down from it steadily, it was not a
position of honor as much as a platform for convenience in being seen while
addressing the group. As each icerug left the platform, it retracted the trail
which it had laid on its way up.
       Thomas slowly scanned the room, counting. "Twenty-four," he finally
concluded. "Just exactly the number there should be."
       "Why do you say that?" asked Cinnamon, puzzled over Thomas's certainty.
       "When I was looking at the panoramic views that I took from the top of
_Victoria_, I realized that the triangular bodies of the icerugs 'tile the
plane'. They aren't perfect triangles by any means, but close enough so that
their overall pattern has a long range hexagonal symmetry. So, at each vertex
of its body, an icerug has five neighbors to speak to -- for a total of six --
as we saw when Blue-Stare and Gray-Mote introduced us to Green-Ring, Five-Arm,
Lavender-Blue, and Smooth-Brown. Since this meeting hall is at a vertex, there
are six icerugs that are nearest to the meeting hall, and eighteen icerugs
that are next-nearest, for a total of twenty-four -- just the number that are
here."
       Their physician acquaintance, Gray-Mote, now glided to the center of
the raised platform and spoke, its resonant voice reaching easily to the edges
of the big room. The murmur of voices ceased, but Cinnamon noted with interest
that throughout the ensuing discussion, interruptions were frequent, brief,
and apparently not resented. Although Gray-Mote was the leader of the
gathering, it did not dominate the discussion, but acted more as a moderator
in a discussion where all the speakers held equal status.
       Gray-Mote introduced the human visitors with kindly oratory and several
eyes rolled to survey the newcomers briefly. Thomas lowered his camera and
stood, slightly abashed at being the object of public scrutiny, while Cinnamon
and Sam turned slightly to be back to back. They all felt relieved, if
somewhat humbled, when it became apparent that their presence was of no real
interest. These creatures were very much concerned with their own affairs, and
proceeded with them in orderly fashion.
       There was a brief and amicable discussion of some shift in territorial
arrangement between several icerugs, followed, to the surprise of the humans,
by a song, led by the bard Yellow-Star on its harp-drum, but joined in by all
the others. The vibrations of the blended voices filled the hall with almost
tangible sound. Cinnamon, at first transfixed by the beauty of the song,
quickly made sure that her suit imp was making a stereo recording that she
could play back later. The icerugs seemed to enjoy their own concert
immensely, and Thomas was able to catch with his camera some of the gentle
swaying of several nodes in apparent rhythm. The sounds of the song were
allowed to die away fully, before another node glided to the center of the
dais. It was Five-Arms, whom Blue-Stare had introduced as the "communicator"
with the leeward local association. Judging from Josephine's literal
translations, Five-Arms was reporting on the activities and decisions of




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another icerug community, some distance away, but of which the speaker was
also a part. The report consisted mostly of numbers, growth statistics, and
shipments of flesh to the city, and was listened to attentively and with
evident approval.
       Sam muttered to Cinnamon, "It's just like a farmer's grange meeting on
Earth!"
       Her reply jolted him: "No, it's not. You're making an assumption, not
stating a fact." Tacitly, he admitted the truth of that.
       Still, he sensed what he would almost have dared to call an intense
communal interest in the next speaker, an icerug which Josephine referred to
as Big-Lump. Accompanied by a much smaller node, Big-Lump moved up onto the
viewing platform on its verdant trail, two tentacles gently pushing the
emerald node of the little one ahead of it, its dark blue eye with a single
green streak blinking rapidly. Big-Lump absent-mindedly rubbed at the large
lump on the side of its head with a third tentacle.
       "I have brought a young one for your taste and approval."
       The room quieted. Then one by one, the other icerugs glided forward,
looked the newcomer carefully in the eye, murmured some sort of comment, and
then touched the young one's head or pedestal with a probing tentacle tip.
       "They aren't taking a bite, so they might be tasting with their
tentacles," guessed Cinnamon over the imp link. Finally the last icerug
withdrew.
       "You have now all tasted this youngling. I have already taught it a few
words, which was extremely easy to do, as the youngling is eager to learn and
tries very hard to please me. I suggest it would be a worthy addition to this
association."
       Josephine's translation seemed to be much briefer than the alien's
speech, for which the humans were grateful. It was becoming apparent that the
icerugs were fond of speaking, and of using elegant and flowery phrases in an
idiom which did not translate well into English. It would have been confusing
to the visitors if Josephine had attempted to include all the local
references.
       Throughout the long discussion of the youngling which followed, the
humans heard only that its adoption into the community was accepted, and the
selection of a name for the newcomer was thoroughly talked out. After many
comments from the assembly, Big-Lump spoke again.
       "I have been calling the little one Green-Streak, because of the streak
of green color in its otherwise blue iris. There was another Green-Streak once
in a distant association, but that person died many years ago. I think the
youngster should be given the name Green-Streak, and I further suggest that
Green-Streak be given the area which used to belong to Eager-Blink." While
these statements were being commented on, the humans struggled to understand
the implications of the speech.
       "Died?" whispered Cinnamon, excitedly. "If Josephine got that right,
then these creatures are mortal -- unlike the flouwen -- who are essentially
immortal unless they rock up to think through a mathematical problem that
takes forever to solve. Must be because their nodes have differentiated cells,
whereas all the cells in the flouwen are the same. Josephine, it's important
that we somehow find out their life-span, and the various causes of death..."
       "They are giving Green-Streak someone else's territory. So territory is
assigned by the local association, if I follow that right," said Thomas.
"Wonder what happened to Eager-Blink?"
       Sam listened intently. Despite Cinnamon's admonition, he felt that
extrapolating from context was the only way he would learn how this strange
community functioned. He was rewarded when the next to speak alluded casually
to the absent icerug.
       "I understand from the information passed to us by Yellow-Star, the
communicator to the association inward, that Eager-Blink is doing well at the
Center for Engineering Studies -- its interest in architecture is still
strong, and Eager-Blink will likely stay in the city indefinitely. I too




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believe the area which Eager-Blink extracted itself from, in order to journey
to the city, would be appropriate for this Green-Streak."
       "If all are agreed then," concluded Big-Lump, "the youngling will stay
with me in my area for some sixteen four-days, to assimilate more of our ways
and customs. Then, when it is ready, I will install it in Eager-Blink's area
and have it attend Smooth-Brown's primary school for tutelage." Agreement to
this proposal was reached, although only after, as nearly as Cinnamon could
judge, every icerug present had spoken to the question.
       The final item on the agenda, as Sam rebelliously thought of it, was
the singing of several more songs. The newest member of the association seemed
to listen to the song with great interest, and swayed a bit in time to the
rhythm, but took no part, nor did its sponsor encourage it to do so. When the
vibrations of the last deep note ceased, the icerugs began to move in
leisurely fashion towards the tunnel.
       Cinnamon moved quickly to intercept Big-Lump and the youngster. At
closer range, Cinnamon could discern the tumor-like bulge in Big-Lump's head
region, which must have given the verdant icerug its name. She hoped the tumor
was benign, then realized that it probably was, since Big-Lump had most likely
been named when very young, as Green-Streak had.
       Blue-Stare joined them and she started to ask questions. She knew that
questions about reproduction among civilized societies on Earth would not be
tolerated, but her scientific training as well as her curiosity urged her to
make the attempt. Carefully approaching the sensitive subject, she spoke to
Big-Lump sweetly, trusting Josephine to make sure that her suit computer
translated her questions tactfully.
       "Please. Do tell me more about this fine youngster. How long has it
been with you?"
       Big-Lump answered readily. "It was some three four-days ago that I
found it, out on the ice to the north of my area."
       Startled, Cinnamon exclaimed, "You found it? Out on the ice?"
       "Yes. I had pushed a trail out onto the ice plains north of me to look
for food and stones that might have fallen on the ice during the last large
eruption of Manannan. Although I didn't find any food, I did find this
youngster in a snowdrift. It didn't taste bad, so I let it follow me home. It
seems an agreeable little fellow, and it settled down quietly in my area, so
after a few four-days, I decided to bring it to this assembly for approval."
       Cinnamon's mind strove to accept this "found under a cabbage leaf"
explanation of icerug replication, but failed. She turned to ask the physician
Gray-Mote her next question, risking offense in her determination to learn
more.
       "This young one ... have there been other young ones? And are they all
foundlings -- not created by icerugs -- simply adopted after being discovered
under some snowdrift?"
       Josephine's voice came over Cinnamon's imp link as Cinnamon's suit imp
was using its wobble-film to boom out her translated words to Gray-Mote. "I
didn't include the phrase 'not created by icerugs' in my translation."
       Gray-Mote, however, seemed unperturbed by Cinnamon's curiosity. "Oh,
yes. Younglings are found occasionally. Usually while we are out gathering."
       Cinnamon was finally forced to ask the question more directly. "I hope
you realize that I am ignorant of your ways and customs, and I may ask
questions that you may choose not to answer. If this question disturbs you, do
not answer. Please, if young icerugs are found, where do they come from?"
       Gray-Mote, seemingly unperturbed by the blunt question, answered her
readily. "There have been many theories discussed by those at the Center for
Medical Studies about the origin of young icerugs. The most accepted one is
the theory of 'Void-Filling Spontaneous Generation'. It is well known that no
youngsters ever appear in the city, or even out in the country where the ice
is fully covered by coverers-of-the-ice. They only appear in the ice plains,
where there is a void of coverers-of-the-ice. The theory of Void-Filling
Spontaneous Generation hypothesizes that Nature abhors a void, especially a




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void of coverers-of-the-ice, and so spontaneously generates new youngsters to
fill the void. So far, the theory has shown itself to be correct."
       "Have those at the Center for Medical Studies come out to look at the
ice plains themselves to make sure that these new youngsters are really
spontaneously generated, and not formed by some other mechanism?" asked
Cinnamon, trying not to be critical, for spontaneous generation of lower
animals such as worms and flies had been believed by human scientists only
three hundred years ago back on Earth.
       "No. Of course not," replied Gray-Mote. "They are too rooted in their
own areas at the Center to think of traveling around like a wandering bard.
They depend upon the observations of those of us here on the periphery of the
nation, as passed on into the city by the communicators between associations.
I believe, however, that the theory is correct, for I myself, many cycles ago,
when I was using a stretch of Big Rock to warm myself on a sunny day, found a
relatively large youngster wandering in from the distant ice fields. It had
the wrong taste, however, so I ate it."
       The two icerugs had continued to move slowly toward the tunnel, not
disturbed by Cinnamon's questions, but obviously ready to go their own ways.
The combination, to Cinnamon, of the innocence and appalling savagery of the
supposedly intelligent and civilized aliens, was enough to discourage her from
further queries. She too was ready to return to her own kind, to talk over
this unsatisfactory explanation of icerug reproduction with Deirdre and
Katrina. Suddenly she grinned to herself: their reactions to the new
information would certainly be interesting!
         ****
When Cinnamon arrived back at _Victoria_, however, it was Katrina who had the
most interesting news about the icerugs.
       "The icerugs and flouwen are related!" exclaimed Katrina, as Cinnamon
joined her in the small area on _Victoria_ that served as combined laboratory
and sick bay. "Their cellular structure is the same. In both of them, the
basic cell is shaped like a fat dumbbell -- two knobs connected by a thick
neck. I haven't had time to do any detailed scans yet, but the images from the
tunneling array microscope show that both the icerug and flouwen cells have
complex semirandom patterns on their surfaces that serve as both the genetic
code and the long term memory for the creatures. _And_..." she continued,
still punching icons on the screen as the imaging continued. "...they use the
same basic genetic code patterns, indicating that the flouwen and icerugs
definitely have a common genetic ancestor. The same goes for the coelasharks."
       She looked up at Cinnamon and pointed at her screen. "This is a scan of
some coelashark muscle tissue that Little White brought back. The cells here
in the muscle tissue have specialized, and changed basic shape by joining into
long strands of knobs, but the basic coelashark cell is also double-knobbed,
and uses the same basic genetic code pattern, so icerugs and coelasharks have
a common genetic ancestor."
       "How closely related are they?" asked Cinnamon.
       "Not close at all," said Katrina. "Again, I haven't had time to get
detailed maps of the genetic patterns in order to run comparisons, but just a
quick scan shows a major difference. The coelasharks have two sets of genes,
each slightly different from the other, one set on one knob of the cell and
the other set on the other knob. That makes them diploid. The icerugs,
however, have only one set of genes, the patterns on the two knobs of their
cell are the same. So, they are monoploid while the coelasharks are diploid --
that's a major difference which indicates that they are not closely related at
all."
       "On Earth, a diploid genetic structure usually indicates a more complex
and therefore a more advanced life form," said Cinnamon. "Yet the icerugs seem
to be much more intelligent than the icerugs."
       "Since they only need one knob of their cell for reproduction," said
Katrina. "Perhaps they use the other knob for thinking -- changing the
patterns on the cell surface to store long term memories. Anyway, even though




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distantly related, they _are_ related."
       "If that's true, then following the pattern on Earth, probably all life
on Zulu is related to each other -- and thence to the flouwen," mused
Cinnamon.
       "So far, they are," said Katrina. "The sample of smallfish and the
boardweed that Gray-Mote gave Little White also show a double-knob cell
structure."
       "I wondered how it happened? Did life from here go to Rocheworld, or
the other way around? Rocheworld does come pretty close to Gargantua once
every three orbits."
       "The geyser here throws lots of biological material from Zulu into
space," said Katrina. "And the interplanetary waterfall between the two lobes
of Rocheworld is an obvious method of getting life from that world into
space."
       "It could also be something as prosaic as a large meteorite hitting
either planet, and throwing into space a chunk of dirt or ice with microbes in
it."
       "We'll probably never know," said Katrina. "But in any case the
lifeforms on Zulu and Rocheworld have the same ancestor."
       Sam came into the lab to see what they were talking about so seriously,
and his entry caused Katrina to remember her other exciting piece of news.
       "Sam!" she exclaimed. "Remember how the icerug Yellow-Star jumped when
you stepped on it?"
       "Yes?" said Sam, puzzled. "You two said something about super-fast
reflexes."
       "The reflexes were super-fast because the signals were carried by a
superconductor! The icerug nervous system consists of specialized nerve cells
that grow long threads which connect to other nerve cells. The threads have a
poor conductor for a surface layer and a strong and flexible metal-organic
polymer inside that's a room-temperature superconductor! The microscope has a
heated stage and I ran it up to a hundred celsius -- as high as it could go --
and I still measured zero resistance through a five centimeter strand -- the
longest I could tease out."
       "That's fantastic!" enthused Sam. "A room temperature superconductor
that is also a strong and flexible polymer would revolutionize electrical
technology back on Earth. That discovery alone might easily pay Earth back for
the entire cost of our mission."
       Katrina turned to look at Cinnamon. "You said that you had something
interesting to tell me about the icerugs. What is it?"
       "Nothing really important," replied Cinnamon, slowly. "You can read it
in my report -- which I'd better get to work on."
--------
          *CHAPTER 07 -- SUBMERGING*
       Quietly and rapidly, the flouwen submerged, luxuriating in the slow
surge of the ocean around them. As the humans had promised, the signals from
_Babble_ soon became only an occasional faint blip of sound at regular
intervals -- easily ignored. The three quickly discovered that swimming in the
strange suits was a different matter altogether from the freedom to which they
were accustomed. However, they soon adapted to the new sensation.
       *Takes work, to swim in this bag,* grunted Little Red.
       ^But, being more compact, the glide is longer,^ demonstrated Little
White, forging ahead. The blobby, awkward-looking shapes increased their pace
with practice, and with powerful lunges headed towards the depths.
       Although the light filtering down from the surface provided a weak
amount of illumination, the superb sonar of the flouwen gave them a bright and
clear picture of their surroundings, the highly flexible glassy-foil fabric of
the suits allowing the sonar pulses from their bodies to penetrate into the
water. Little Purple, emulating one of his favorite humans, commented
frequently on what they were "seeing" as they swam along. His observations
were converted by David's software algorithm into a high reliability




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communications code, and redundantly transmitted over a number of channels by
the sonar transmitter on Little Purple's chestpack back to _Babble_, to be
transmitted up through the commsat links to Joe on _Dragonfly_, who devolved
the code to reconstruct the message and pass it along to David, while copies
were sent to Josephine on _Victoria_ and James on _Prometheus_.
       #Water getting warmer. No sign of anything moving. Tide is moving
against us. Wait. A funny echo...#
       *Big!*
       ^Stop!^
       The three flouwen attempted to stop simultaneously. Their normal
techniques, however, failed in the clumsy suits, so that instead of the easy
cessation of motion they expected, there was a collision of the three, which
distracted them. By the time Little Red had stopped blaming the other two, the
large distant echo had vanished, but the three explorers now proceeded more
slowly, surveying all the areas around them.
       #Sea bottom now in range. Large crater down below. Not deep. Full of
plants. Inside crater hear bubbling sounds of vent field. Water getting warmer
as we go nearer. Funny echo again.#
       Little Purple stopped transmitting, and all three stopped seeing around
them with their sonar pings, and instead switched to looking through the
lenses built into their helmets. Down below them, illuminated by the reddish
light trickling down from the surface above, a large and powerful form
undulated around the rim of the crater, sleek and silent as a snake. It was a
giant coelashark, larger than either a human or a flouwen.
       #Big. Four legs, with fins on the ends. Four tentacles, stubby too,
coming from beneath, below mouth. Tentacles carry sharp stone. Moves in
s-curves, sideways.#
       The coelashark's attention seemed to be concentrated on the warmer,
plant-choked waters inside the crater, and it did not notice or pay attention
to the silent bulk of the three aliens above it. The coelashark moved slowly,
effortlessly, but with a steady rhythm that seemed in no way idle; it was
watching the plants for something, and waiting with a purpose. It swam off and
disappeared around the opposite side of the seaweed bed, but the flouwen
stayed quietly where they were, also waiting and watching. After some time the
coelashark reappeared. It stopped to sharpen the already sharp point of its
stone on a rock, and continued its patrol of the vent field, its attention
still directed inward, and passed.
       With tacit mutual consent, the flouwen kept sonar silence to prevent
being observed, swam over the edge of the crater to the inside, and began to
drop slowly downward. Behind, they could hear the approach of _Babble_, its
treads making a great deal of noise as it splashed across the ocean surface
above them. Thankful this time for the presence of the noisy machine, the
flouwen were able to use _Babble_'s pings and tread noise to keep track of the
large coelashark, while saving their own sonar chirps for the scanning of
things near to them.
       Suddenly, they stopped. A sound was rapidly increasing through the
water, as though some creature was approaching them from out of the plant
cover, screaming as it came. They watched as two creatures approached,
swimming in frantic haste. The larger of the two was a coelashark, only a
quarter of the size of the one they had already seen, and it was hotly
pursuing another, still smaller, which was making the noise. The victim had
lost its tentacles, and some dark fluid flowed like smoke from a puncture in
its side, but it never slowed in its desperate flight outward toward the rim
of the crater. As the flouwen watched, both little coelasharks virtually
exploded, hit full on by the huge predator that had circled back. The screams
stopped, and nothing was left of the encounter but the languid motion of the
satiated coelashark, and the rapidly dissipating trace of the dark film of
liquid.
       *Good hunting, two at once like that,* said Little Red in admiration.
The flouwen resumed their advance.




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       The seabed above which they were slowly floating was rough, and
littered with small rocks. A small and furtive movement among them caught
Little White's attention. Carefully he slowed and brought his sonar to a focus
on the pebbles. The little scuttling creature was now still and
indistinguishable from the stones all around. Patiently, silently, the flouwen
waited. There were a few tiny shiftings among the litter, and then several
quick darts, as the strange living rocks jetted a brief distance, and then sat
immobile.
       #Little pebbles squirt,# observed Little Purple aloud. #Squirting
pebbles look almost like real rocks.#
       Little Red gave one of the squirting pebbles an exploratory prod. It
dug itself into the seabed with such speed and force that in less than two
seconds it had disappeared.
       *Probably good to eat,* said Little Red. *For somebody.* As they
continued towards the warmth, more and more of the little animals became
visible. Acting faster this time, Little Red used a pseudopod to capture one
of the squirting pebbles and stuffed it in a sample bag to take back to
Katrina.
       Tiny fronds were the next form of life to appear to the flouwen. They
too became more numerous as they advanced from cold water to warm, and they
also became larger. Soon they spotted clumps of tough and spongy grasses. The
blades were thick, varying in color from palest blue to a rich forest green,
and were as resilient as leather. At David's urging, the flouwen gathered
samples and bagged them. Nestling concealed within the largest clumps, only
leaving when Little White disturbed them, were a variety of small, worm-like
creatures. They wriggled frantically when thus disturbed, and raced to dive
without hesitation into the next available tussock.
       As the water temperature continued to rise, the fronds of the plants
became thin and flat, and extended into many-lobed leaves, waving gently in
the drift of the tide. The roots of some of these were digging into the seabed
rock, where they apparently hardened, forming fragile-looking, lacy structures
which looked like coral, and were every bit as hard. The flouwen, after
careful inspection and bagging of a representative sample, stayed warily clear
of these, but continued to probe busily into the heart of all the weedy plants
along the way. Out of one, thus dislodged, shot a very small coelashark, but
its precipitous dive into the next cluster was a mistake; apparently the
denizen of this neighbor was another coelashark, just slightly larger than the
first. Instantly the two babies were locked in combat. Little Red, curious,
interfered in the fray by holding the larger firmly to the seabed; the tiny
one, with this advantage, promptly bit through the throat of its adversary
with dispatch, and began to eat as fast as possible, hauling the victim down
into the grass clump with savage, twisting jerks.
       The surrounding water was now slightly less clear. Little Purple had
dutifully recorded a description of the opacity, and comments began to come
back in over _Babble_ from David, who was listening intently from his post on
_Dragonfly_.
       "Possibly a type of plankton, clouding the water. Better take a sample
of seawater for Katrina to look at."
       The seabed was becoming more thickly covered now also, and even the
gentle passage of the aliens disturbed swirls of unidentifiable muck. The
thick and spongy grasses began to give way to large areas of taller weeds of
several different sorts. One of these showed long flat leaves, two or three
centimeters thick, nearly twenty centimeters wide, and tens of meters long.
They swayed heavily in the currents, pushing against other weeds which rose
like vertical snakes, a couple of centimeters in diameter. The dense forests
of these bottom-dwelling plants obscured the floor of the ocean, but the
flouwen were able to see many tiny creatures, of varying shapes, moving within
their shelter. The heat had increased greatly and the flouwen were getting
uncomfortable. Little Purple's laconic descriptions continued, and up above,
David mentally pictured the seaweed growths below.




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       "How tightly are the plants fastened to the seabed?" he asked. "Try to
pull one free, Little Red." Little Red tugged at one of the slender stalks,
and it came free with suddenness, dislodging several of its broader-leaved
neighbors in the process. It took some effort on the part of the flouwen, but
they managed to tear off samples of both plants which were small enough to fit
into the sample bags. The uprooting action had revealed several darting
shapes, frantically rushing into hiding.
       *Three little coelasharks, chasing whole group of tiny swimmers.
Swimmers all move together, blue on one side, green on the other.* David
recognized the pattern of schooling fish, although whether or not these
bi-colored creatures were fish at all was unknown. The flouwen watched with
interest as the coelasharks tore into the little group, decimating it until a
desperate burst of speed shot the remaining members of the school out of
sight. Little Red managed to capture one of the injured swimmers in a sample
bag.
       #I can see hot water plumes from central vents now,# said Little
Purple, picking up the doppler-shifted return signal from the rapidly rising
turbulences. #Getting too hot. Lots of weeds here. We not go closer but swim
around vent.# The flouwen turned, to keep the vent to one side of them, and
pushed through the water between the waving tendrils and leaves. From time to
time they stopped, and descended, to push the plants firmly apart and take
samples of the animal and plant life. Each time they found they had disturbed
numerous small creatures; however, as Little Purple reported, they no longer
saw any little coelasharks.
       *Little flippy things. More little squirting rocks, much smaller. Lots
of little worms.*
       #Water getting warmer again, change direction,# reported Little Purple,
while his suit and _Babble_ automatically recorded the new position.
       *Big rocks here, less weed, lots of small rocks piled up.* Little Red
dislodged the top of the nearest heap of stones. They rolled downwards, and
the familiar shapes of life appeared momentarily, revealed and vulnerable
until they found new hiding places within the crevices and crannies of the
mound.
       #Still no little coelasharks,# mentioned Little Purple.
       "Try moving into slightly cooler water," suggested David. "Perhaps the
hotter temperature is too much for them." The flouwen moved out, and wandered
around and among the vents irregularly spaced about the field. As they
reported, the teeming plant life nearest the vents only concealed the tiniest
sorts of animals; only in the cooler depths could they find the larger
animals, like coelasharks.
       "Perhaps as they get larger," David mused out loud to Joe. "Their
surface to volume ratio shrinks, and they find it harder to keep their insides
from getting too hot, so they need to stay in cooler water." At David's
suggestion, the flouwen headed out again to cooler water. They found only a
few animals, and just two coelasharks, well hidden in holes within some large
rocks. One of the coelasharks, nearly thirty centimeters long, obviously
resented their intrusion, but was too cowed by their much larger size to
launch an attack. It took out its frustration by attacking one of the other
animals that the flouwen had disturbed, a large flat ribbon-like creature. It
chased the ribbon-fish outward into the clearer, cooler water away from the
vent field, the flouwen watching the chase with their sonar. Suddenly, the
coelashark turned tail and dove for its hole under its rock, while behind it
the weak sonar return from the ribbon-fish was replaced with a very large
return signal. All of this was carefully relayed to David, who was becoming
alarmed.
       "You've got inside the big coelashark's territory, that's good," he
said calmly. "Now the tricky bit may be getting yourselves out. _With_ your
suits intact." The flouwen paused to consider what he had said. Unafraid on
their own account, they recognized the desirability of preserving the
well-engineered suits. Shirley had assured them that the glassy-foil was




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nearly impossible to cut or tear, and had shown that a knife-point could not
penetrate it, but the flouwen were not anxious to try it out on coelashark
teeth.
       ^This way?^
       #Straight up?#
       *Between two vents?*
       David caught only hints of the consultation going on below. Decided
now, the flouwen moved smoothly and steadily off at an angle, following the
trace of slightly cooler water that flowed off between the warm areas of two
of the active vents. They were unsuccessful in their attempted escape. The
giant coelashark spotted them, and screaming belligerently, it attacked; "My
territory! You are my food! You cry from fear -- and I shall kill you now,
tear out your guts, spill your blood, rip open your throat..."
       ^All yell at head now!^ Little White commanded to the other flouwen as
the creature rushed at them. Shaping their bodies into shallow dishes, they
each generated a high pitched sonar scream that shot through the thin
glassy-foil fabric of their suits into the water, and was focused onto the
head section of the approaching coelashark.
       The fury of the coelashark was swept away on the piercing, destroying
wave of sound that blasted from the flouwen, focussing on the flesh of the
animal, exploding its eyes, numbing its brain, and vibrating chunks of flesh
from its lips. Quickly, the flouwen surged past the dazed coelashark into
cooler waters and paused to send sonar pulses back to see if it was recovering
from the attack. They saw, apparently appearing from nowhere, three
medium-sized coelasharks converging on the remnants of the predator. Biting
and swallowing with savage speed, they spared no time or breath for speech
until the giant coelashark had been ripped into large chunks. The three then
turned on each other. Powerful tails flipped agile bodies, tentacles jabbed at
eyes with pointed stones, and finned feet struggled to maintain each animals'
equilibrium, while the jaws lunged and tore, searching for a vital hold. The
flouwen watched dispassionately as, by chance, two of the sharks managed each
to get a firm grip on the third. Within seconds they had torn it practically
in two. The larger of the two then struck with speed and power at the throat
of the other. The smaller one was not much smaller, however, and was quick to
respond. Two tentacles deflected the thrusting jaws for an instant, and
although they were bitten off close to the body, the smaller animal had gained
a precious chance. All four fins, on the ends of the stubby legs, swirled and
pushed to send the coelashark shooting backwards, into the warmer water, where
it slid hastily into a crevice and hid. The victor coelashark seemed about to
pursue, then hesitated, and hung irresolutely in the water, turning it's large
head first toward the three flouwen, waiting and watching, and then towards
the escaped and hidden enemy. Tentatively, it advanced in the direction of the
flouwen, thrusting its sharp stone before it, but a warning blast of sound
from them stopped it.
       "_My_ territory now! All food in this territory is mine!" There was a
hint of triumph in the voice, and Little Red was curious enough to communicate
with the killer.
       *You have won?*
       "You know it! You saw it! I have killed and eaten those two! No one is
left is bigger than I am! I rule this area now, and any who show themselves I
will devour! That goes for you too, whoever you are! Whatever you are!"
       Little Purple said peaceably, #You cannot harm us, and we do not wish
to harm you. We have only come to see how you live.#
       "And it'll be the death of you!" screamed the coelashark, advancing
once again. A repeat of the sonar warning interrupted the action, and the
coelashark hung back, screaming threats and insults. The three flouwen began
to move with deliberate slowness into the cooler waters away from the
coelashark, which stayed where it was, still raging. When they were out of
sight, the flouwen sent a sonar signal back, and found that the coelashark was
swimming off at a tangent. A few more minutes of observation at that distance




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told the flouwen that the creature was circling, first slowly and then with
increasing confidence, the vent field which fed that area with it's
life-giving heat and mineral-laden water.
       "It's about time for us to come and pick you up," said David from the
_Dragonfly_. "I'll see you shortly at the spot where we left you off."
       The flouwen, with their sample bags full, headed silently back in the
direction from which they had come, _Babble_ paddling noisily behind, trying
to keep up.
--------
          *CHAPTER 08 -- VISITING*
       With the flouwen launched, George was anxious to proceed with a visit
to Windward City. The humans worked quickly to ready themselves and the
_Dragonfly_ for departure, while leaving no trace of their visit upon the icy
shore but their tracks in the snow. With considerable satisfaction, Deirdre
helped Richard and the Christmas Branch stow the ropes and telescoping poles
they had used to lower _Babble_ into the water into the belly hold of the
airplane.
       "That's the way it should be, it is that," said Deirdre, as she climbed
into the airlock and turned to look back around. "Nothing taken and nothing
left. Come, observe, report, and leave -- clean and scientific!"
       Richard took one last walk around the airplane to make sure they had
picked up everything. Suddenly, a strong jolt ran through the ice, knocking
him off his feet. It was followed by a loud rumbling crack coming through the
air that sounded somewhat like a distant giant breaking a tall tree in two
like a match stick. Richard picked himself off the ground and ran for the
airlock where Deirdre was waiting for him, his feet unsteady as the ice
beneath them tilted back and forth slowly.
       "The ice shelf we're on has just turned into an iceberg! Let's get out
of here before it decides to turn turtle!" He leaped into the open door.
       "I'm in, Arielle!" shouted Richard. "Take off and get to altitude!"
       Before the outer airlock door had completely closed, the large
electrically driven fan engines in the wing roots of the airplane had started
spinning, and Arielle coaxed the _Dragonfly_ into the air like an overladen
rocket.
       Once they were safely high above the ice and held up by the VTOL fans,
Arielle smoothly shifted from fan lift to jet thrust, and the airplane climbed
in altitude and away from the icy shore edge along the open water of the warm
lake where the flouwen had submerged. Richard looked back out the small
porthole in the outer airlock door. He could now see a jagged line of open
water where once there had been solid ice connecting their landing spot to the
shore.
       "A nice big flat ice floe," he remarked. "I guess we weren't really in
danger after all."
       Arielle turned the _Dragonfly_ until they were headed directly towards
the distant cloudy blur of Manannan geyser, with its thick telltale column of
condensing moisture rising kilometers into the air. Through the clouds could
be seen a rooster-tail spray of windblown water droplets from the geyser in
the middle. The boiling jet was half a kilometer high and growing higher with
each geyser pulsation.
       Shirley, at the science console, looked at a graph of the predictions
for the tidal forces on her screen. "Zuni is approaching conjunction while
Zouave is not far behind. Not a true triple conjunction -- more like a
two-point-seven-tuple conjunction. The ocean surface should rise about nine
meters in the next two hours, then drop again." Richard, still dressed in his
suit underalls, strode down the narrow corridor, swivel-hipped past David's
console chair, and stood looking over Shirley's shoulder, sipping on an
algae-shake he had picked up from the galley imp.
       "The rising tide is probably what caused that ice floe to break off,"
he said. "We should now get plenty of action from Big Berth ... Manannan.
There's going to be a lot of hot water thrown up into the air in the next few




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hours."
       "That's not good," said George from the co-pilot seat. "Those are ripe
conditions for causing a plane to ice up."
       Arielle was already alert to the problem, and the small pilot kept
constant check on the icing indicators, while changing course to take the
plane well to windward of the distant geyser. As they left the small open lake
where they had put the flouwen, and moved toward Manannan's much larger lake
off in the distance, the crew were examining and commenting with fascination
upon the changing terrain. Although David could have observed from his console
by watching the color video input from the visual imagers set in the eye-like
side domes of _Dragonfly_, he went forward to the flight deck where he could
look out Arielle's side cockpit window from the jump seat behind her.
       "Look at that jade-colored one -- with the paler ones on either side!"
David's ability to see the slightest variations in color helped him to
delineate the regular patterns unfolding below. Deirdre, finished with her
shower, and back in her trim brown coverall, came forward with Foxx to take
the jump seat behind George.
       "They're definitely triangular, d'you see?"
       With the clue, the humans all began to pick out the repetition of
shape, even though some of the blue-green fields were so closely alike in
color that distinction was difficult. Richard and Shirley, their heads close
together as Richard stared over Shirley's shoulder at her console screen,
enjoyed trying to pick out the boundaries of each irregular formation, while
simultaneously enjoying their own closeness. Richard was supporting himself on
his hands placed close on either side of Shirley's console table. The heavy
warmth of Shirley's breasts brushing against his forearms as she reached to
bring up new views to the touchscreen, recalled casual liaisons of years past,
and Shirley, relaxing in this carefree moment, delighted in reminding Richard.
Up front, oblivious, George and Deirdre commented on the increasing number of
icerugs visible below.
       "We ought to take some sort of count," speculated George. "The icerugs
seem to congregate in certain areas and not in others, so a map of population
density might be a good thing to make."
       "That's going to require a survey, an aerial survey of a great deal of
territory, will it not?" asked Deirdre.
       "Umm," replied George. "Anything really accurate would be more than I'd
care to undertake, at least on this mission. But an overview of at least the
inner pole area, and perhaps a visual estimate of the population around each
geyser, might prove enlightening to us -- and maybe even the icerugs."
       Deirdre didn't automatically approve of attempting to enlighten the
aliens, but she knew well how population trends can illustrate trends in
environmental changes. An accurate map of the native population density would
be valuable base-line data for future research studies. As they flew closer to
the large lake -- tens of kilometers in size -- the area that each icerug
occupied become smaller, and the pattern shifted from the general hexagonal
arrangement of triangles that they had noticed out in the country to more
complex shapes.
       "There seem to be certain centers of importance," said David. "Instead
of a point being surrounded by six equilateral triangles, it is surrounded by
dozens, or even hundreds of narrow isosceles triangles, all meeting at the
same vertex point, as if it were necessary for all those icerugs to be in
communication with each other at the same time."
       "Could be the icerug equivalent of a parliament," suggested George. "Or
a factory with a production line -- although I doubt it. The types of items
that we have seen the icerugs carry are more like those produced by craftsmen
than a production line -- still, you never know..."
       "Here's something interesting!" said Shirley, as she changed the zoom
on the right hand dome visible imaging telescope. They could now see an
enlarged image of a long snake-like strip made of two slightly different
blue-green colors adjacent to each other.




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       "If those are two icerugs lying side-by-side, then they are _longest_
icerugs I've seen yet," said George, copying her screen. "They must go for
five kilometers or so."
       "Look," said Richard, his finger on Shirley's touchscreen producing a
green indicator spot on George's screen. "They meet up with another pair of
long icerugs here."
       Shirley increased the zoom, and soon they could see objects moving
along the twin strips.
       "It's a living conveyor belt!"
       On one strip there were lumps and parcels of various sizes and shapes
moving rapidly along, while on the neighboring strip, similar things were
moving in the opposite direction. Shirley's fingers flickered over the icons
at the side of her screen, then touched one of the strips, which lit up with a
yellow border surrounding it. Soon Joe replied through her imp, "Area of strip
indicated is 4424 square meters. Average width of strip not quite one meter,
length four point eight kilometers."
       "That's about the same area as one of the triangular icerugs out in the
country," remarked Deirdre. "But this one seems, perhaps, specialized."
       "I wonder what other specialty body shapes they can assume," mused
Richard. "Do they have driller icerugs, or mining icerugs, or water company
icerugs, or sewage disposal icerugs?"
       "Telephone line icerugs?" ventured David. "If they go to a strip a
millimeter across, four thousand square meters would stretch..." Joe responded
with the answer, "...four thousand kilometers, David, lad. One-quarter o'the
circumference of the moon. More than enough to reach from one geyser community
to another."
       It was obvious that the central portion of Windward was concentrated on
the lee side of the geyser lake, in the direction where the prevailing winds
from the leading pole of Zulu would blow the spray from the geyser. The
dangerous ice-shelf shores of the lake were barren of icerugs, although a few
brave specimens extended a small portion of their bodies out onto the thicker
parts.
       The _Dragonfly_ flew through a small upward-billowing cloud rising from
the warm waters below, temporarily blocking the view. Suddenly, the Dragonfly
swerved to the right, and continued in a wide circle, until the plane was
heading away from the big geyser. "Wings icing. I try again." Arielle's voice
was firm and unworried, but the others fell silent, looking out at the
incredibly slender wings that carried them. David quickly left the jump seat
and returned to his computer console, where he flashed terse questions at Joe
concerning the geysering pattern of Manannan as determined from previous
recordings of the geyser action under similar tidal conditions, and
assimilated the computer's brief answers into his predictions. He was going to
check his conclusions with their geologist, Richard, but when he glanced over
at the absorbed couple at the science console, he decided to make the decision
on his own. He broadcast his recommendation through all imps.
       "In fifteen minutes, there will be a respite -- perhaps a half hour in
duration, when the geyser activity will be less. The tides from Zuni and
Zouave will be slightly canceling each other because of their different
phases, and the pulsation period of the geyser will simultaneously at its
minimum. According to Joe, during that period, Arielle should be able to touch
down, drop an exploration crew off, and go again, with minimal chance of icing
up. She can return safely a few hours later when the two conjunctions are over
and the geyser has settled down again."
       As he spoke, Arielle took the _Dragonfly_ back again toward the center
of all the geyser activity. "I take another look." Her eyes flickered,
searching the ice-shelf shore of the lake for a safe place to come down that
was near the center of the city. George, anxious to succeed in his plan to
land and meet with the more sophisticated members of this alien civilization,
left his copilot seat and started back to the rear to put on his exploration
suit. He passed Richard and Shirley, and automatically registered their




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closeness. As he walked on, he quickly inserted this fact into his various
options.
       "Right -- they're at that stage. I don't give a damn, but we're short
of time on this mission and I'll need both of them being sensible. I'll have
to break it up. They can wait."
       He returned shortly in his exploration suit, minus his helmet. He
reached the co-pilot's seat, and zeroed all his attention in on the
information appearing on his screen. Arielle grunted, and flicked a long
fingernail out the side cockpit window on her left, before swinging the
_Dragonfly_ back into another big circle. George had just time to see what she
had been pointing at, before it swept from view. It was a large circular area
along the Manannan lake front ice shelf, which looked both relatively flat and
empty of icerug bodies.
       "Next pass, if ice stays off wings, I try there." Arielle's few words
gave George a clear, quick picture of her scheme, and he reacted upon them.
       "David. Stay with the plane and monitor the activities of the flouwen.
Richard and Deirdre, suit up to go out with me. Shirley, stay with the plane
and design a mapping survey of the inner pole area. You can start with a
population density map of the icerug nation around this geyser, as accurate as
you have time for, before picking us up again. Arielle, take us down when
ready."
       The crisp commands sparked everyone. Joyfully, Deirdre headed to the
rear to put on her suit again. Richard and Shirley arose more slowly, but
Richard's mind sprang quickly to the prospect of exploring more of this world,
and Shirley fastened on the two concerns of a new task to perform and the
customary but vital one of assuring the safety of the crew in their suits.
Soon, Richard was going through the checkout of his suit panel, grunting as
Shirley punched each check button.
       Arielle found her planned landing site again, and soon the _Dragonfly_
cut its jets and started a slow glide toward the bare spot of ice between the
lake shore and the center of the city. The icerugs had obviously cleared out
from the area so the plane could land. There was a light snow falling from the
upper clouds, but the geyser had slowed down, as predicted, and there was no
icy rain accompanying the snowfall. Where they were heading, there were dozens
of narrow isosceles triangles of colorful carpets arranged in a circle, their
apexes pointing at the round patch of clear ice. The nodes of each icerug were
placed well back from the landing area.
       In the back of the airplane, as the three explorers entered the inner
airlock door, Richard's eyes met Shirley's through the intervening visor of
his suit; both grinned, and Shirley kissed the visor lightly, then instantly
buffed away the tiny trace of lipstick she had left on the surface.
       "See you later," they said together.
       Deirdre caught the exchange, noted it, and forgot it. She moved into
the airlock behind George, excitement mounting within her, although Foxx,
perched on her shoulder, reflected Deirdre's calm outward composure.
       The time Arielle was willing to spend on the ice was short; so George,
Richard, and Deirdre, having made sure that they had all the items that had
been planned for this meeting stowed in their chestpacks, waited in the closed
airlock, ready to leave as soon as the plane landed.
       Arielle's eyes assessed the landing site. To David, watching from the
co-pilot seat beside her, the field seemed full of boulders and ice ridges --
much more so than it had appeared from the heights -- but Arielle coolly
brought the large plane to a hovering halt on its VTOL fans, and rotating it
about its vertical axis, maneuvered the long wings between the threatening
masses and lowered it down near the icy surface.
       Reluctant to come to a complete halt, Arielle hovered while George,
Deirdre, and Richard opened the airlock door, jumped onto the ice, and ran out
from under the wing and toward the front of the plane where Arielle could see
them. Once they were safely in view, the tiny pilot smiled brightly at them
behind the thick cockpit window, waved goodbye, and the _Dragonfly_ lifted and




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swiftly flew away to altitude.
       The three explorers turned to look around. The almost hasty decision he
had taken, to land at this early opportunity, left George feeling that the
last few moments had been hectic. In startling contrast was the composure of
the large alien node confronting him with its yellow-gold eye in the middle of
its peacock colored carpet. The majestic looking icerug node looked as if it
had been standing there, immobile, for hours, as the fine granules of lightly
falling snow slid down over the fantastic colors and shapes of its ornate
attire.
       At the base of its eye stalk was a wide collar of shining gold
medallions alternating with bushy rosettes of brightly colored red lace. From
the collar fell a long white cape covered with more red lace rosettes with
long strands of red ribbons fluttering from them. Around the narrow "neck"
region below the globular head and above the four tentacles was a neckband,
again with shining gold medallions alternating with rosettes of red lace, from
which draped more ribbons that fell down between the four tentacles. The
ribbons partially covered a number of pouches and artifacts that hung down
below the tentacles where they could be easily grasped. Surrounding the
"waist" region below the four tentacles and above the pedestal was a belt,
again with medallions and rosettes. Hanging from the belt was a white skirt
that covered the pedestal of the icerug node. The skirt design repeated the
gaudy rosette and ribbon motif of the cape. Using one peacock-colored
tentacle, the icerug lifted a large monocle and looked through it, its large
eye looking even larger through the lens.
       The nodes of the other icerugs surrounding their landing site were well
back at the far end of their carpets, apparently deferring to the
elaborately-dressed greeter. All the icerug nodes were clad in a kaleidoscopic
variety of costumes of various hues and textures. The humans started over the
bare ice toward the greeter, and the yellow-eyed alien glided simultaneously
across its peacock carpet to meet them.
       "All these icerugs seem a lot better dressed and decorated than the
country one," remarked George through their private imp link.
       "Aye, and much good it does them," said Deirdre coolly. "Nothing I see
of warmth or protection, only grand to look at."
       George and the icerug node met at the edge of the icerug's carpet.
George was not a small man, but the eye of the icerug towered over him. George
cleared his throat, wondering if he should speak first, and regarding the
imposing alien in some awe.
       "Greetings to you, strangers, from the Governing Council of Windward
City, of which I, Golden-Glint, am Presider!" The long rolling thunder of this
speech was smoothly rendered into human words and tones by the translation
programs in their suit computers. The humans stood silent, studying the fine
peacock shimmer of the Presider, surmounted by a yellow eye with a strong
sparkle of golden color that flickered as the alien continued to speak.
       "We have heard of your arrival in a far distant region of ice near our
nation's perimeter. We have studied and discussed reports of you, your flying
machines, and your actions, brought to us through the Conveners in contact
with that region. We have decided, unanimously of course, to invite you into
our great city to show you of its wonders." There was a great deal more,
mostly of a self-laudatory and rather pompous nature, but so benign in
character that George had leisure to compose the opening sentences of a speech
for the visitors. He recalled formal presentations on Earth, and resolved to
use as many oratorical garnishes as he could remember; Reiki had mentioned
once that among cultures with a love of speech-making, a short answer is
tantamount to an insult.
       George did his best, but eventually found himself running out of things
to say. "...and so, hearing of the marvelous wonders to see, and things to
learn in your wonderful city, we resolved to travel here for a brief time,
hoping to see something of its ... erm ... marvelous wonders." The sheet of
glassy-foil in the hands of his suit imp boomed out the icerug translation of




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George's last few words and fell silent.
       _"And we're wasting the time we have,"_ thought Richard. _"Cut it
short, George!"_ Thankfully, he saw the icerug bodies ahead of them begin to
move their carpet edges apart, opening a clear path of ice for the humans to
walk on, while Golden-Glint indicated with a graceful sweep of three of its
tentacles that the visitors were to accompany them.
       The procession moved quickly. The icerug seemed to move effortlessly,
and the humans marched as fast as was comfortable.
       "Ahead, you will observe the Grand Portal. This is the main entrance
into our Great Meeting Hall."
       They were approaching the decorated opening of a tunnel, going down
into the ice. This tall entrance portal was constructed of beautifully
polished and elaborately carved rocks, closely fitted together. As they
descended along the gleaming icy path lined with hundreds of threads of icerug
flesh, Richard noted and commented to the others through their private imp
link, "There, at the bottom of the walls. Those are nickel-iron meteorites --
very strong building materials if you can get them. And there, up above, the
composition of the arch changes to volcanic rock -- light, but still strong.
Look how high that arch is!"
       They were all impressed with the size of the entrance hallway. The
ceiling above them, vaulted with rock and roofed with what looked like bars of
ice, soared higher than the entryways in many medieval cathedrals. They
finally entered a gigantic room with the roof supported by stone arches rising
from thick stone pedestal bases.
       "It's the low gravity here, I guess," murmured Richard. "Even with all
the mass of ice and snow on top, they can still build these tremendously tall
and wide arches."
       Deirdre said nothing, her whole attention caught with the spectacle
around her. Hundreds of icerug nodes were in the gigantic meeting hall, which
still seemed almost empty, so vast were its spaces. Each icerug was emitting a
spot of blue bioluminescent light from a dished-in portion of their spherical
head section of their node, and all the soft blue "spotlights" were pointed in
their direction. The light from all those concave spots was also reflected
from the stone walls, polished to a mirror sheen, and in addition, was
reflected off all the eyes on the ends of the eye stalks, focussed upon the
visitors. Deirdre was reminded of a field of sunflowers, with herself as the
sun, and was enchanted. George, less happily, remembered his first graduation
ceremony, and hoped he wouldn't trip.
       Accompanied by the Presider, the humans moved to a clear floor area
seemingly set aside for them. There was nothing upon which a human could sit,
or even lean; all three were resigned to this, and adopted a relaxed stance
they could maintain indefinitely. Golden-Glint was speaking again; they caught
the glitter of something held by two of the alien's tentacles. It was a small
sheet of ice that Golden-Glint held in front of its concave illuminator while
"reading" from it with its large eye, occasionally glancing up to look at the
humans or the attentive audience. The humans watched fascinated, as the upper
edge of the sheet apparently melted, and was absorbed by the tentacle holding
it from above, while the speech was being read. Golden-Glint finally
concluded.
       "We know you will enjoy hearing our Orchestra and Chorus from the
Center of Musical Studies. They shall perform for you now."
       Amazed, the humans realized that a large segment of the surrounding
crowds was arranged in orderly rows; each individual holding a small sheet of
rock between two tentacles. Some of the others held curious objects which were
revealed to be musical instruments; varieties of chimes could be seen, and all
sorts of drums. There were also strange shapes mounted with taut strands,
which were plucked or bowed. All three humans wished suddenly that David were
with them. The rest of the musicians constituted a large chorus, and the music
which burst forth from this alien combination was wonderfully deep and
compelling to Deirdre.




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       "Fond I am of the low bass tones," she murmured to the others through
their private imp link, "but I never before heard a song where the highest
note in it was middle C!" She listened with delight; for the first time she
forgot her professional determination to distance herself emotionally from
this alien life-form. Richard and George were studying the various instruments
intently, memorizing as many different structures as they could see, to relate
later to David, and hoping that the video monitor cameras in their helmets had
enough resolution to capture the details of construction.
       "That chime is surely icicle-based, and the drum-frame is either ice or
some sort of rock," remarked George through their link. "But what is the
drum-head made of? From the pattern, it looks like snake skin or fish skin,
but it's too large for that."
       Similarly Richard was trying to analyze the uniform sheets every
musician held. "They must be thin slices of rock, that's exactly what they
look like, and they're covered with tiny squiggles. Can it be they're reading
from them?"
       Richard enjoyed the performance, although he was not as absorbed in it
as Deirdre; rather, he was hoping that the concert would be brief, so that
some of the many questions occurring to him could be asked. George was
thinking the same, and when the music ceased he started to speak, only to
stop, a little embarrassed, as Deirdre applauded enthusiastically, with her
gloved hands. The men copied her gesture then, and the icerug orchestra
visibly rippled, whether from amusement or curiosity it was impossible to
tell. At any rate, it gave George a moment to rephrase his sentences more
formally.
       "That is truly splendid music. There are those among us who also make
music; their instruments, and the sounds they make, are vastly different from
what we have just heard. It illustrates to us how much we can learn, and are
eager to learn, from you. We thank you for the pleasure of your music. Rather
than interrupt any further with the activities of your day, might we perhaps
speak with just a few individuals -- scientists or craftsmen -- who would be
willing to explain to us something of the objects that we are seeing?"
       There was no evidence of displeasure in the response of the alien.
Deirdre abruptly recalled herself to the reality; human values and reactions
had no place among these creatures. While the concert resumed behind them,
Golden-Glint escorted the humans from the hall, through an adjacent tunnel and
into a much smaller room. Keeping a mental map, Richard surmised that the
walls of this under-ice cathedral were many meters thick, and that while they
were actually in the first room outside the hall, the rock-lined ice walls
were so thick that little of the booming music penetrated here. George noticed
this also, and recalling the physical throbbing of the alien drums, speculated
with interest on the acoustics of the vaulted ceilings. Deirdre was meanwhile
trying to sort out the tangle of colored strands over which they were walking.
There seemed to be fewer of them here than in the main tunnel entrance.
       As they entered the small side room at the end of the tunnel,
Golden-Glint said, "Here you shall meet with a few of our scientists, those
who had time to spare to talk with you."
       Once again the humans noticed that the aliens had no expectation of
anything of much interest coming to them from these interviews; the icerugs
were willing to discuss themselves, apparently finding that reason enough to
talk. Separately, each human made a quick mental inventory of what they had
brought with them in the way of "trade goods", hoping to arouse a little
curiosity in the icerugs. George waved a questioning hand at a small stack of
music plates.
       "It is puzzling to us even what sort of material these things are made.
When you ... erm ... Sir Presider, were greeting us so eloquently, the sheet
you held appeared to be dissolving as you spoke."
       "Of course," agreed the alien. "It was not an important speech, so I
simply wrote a few notes upon a page of ice I generated from my own fluids.
Then I reabsorbed it. Water ice makes a very satisfactory material for such




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short-term use -- strong, readily available, clean, easily inscribed upon, and
instantly disposable. Things which must be used many times, like those music
plates, are written on thin sheets of stone." The casual phrase startled the
human ears.
       "_How_ do you write in stone?" asked Richard. "Have you metals?" The
Presider fluidly waved a peacock-colored tentacle in the direction of the
small cluster of icerug nodes waiting for them, the red ribbons hanging from
its neck band fluttering in response to the motion.
       "That, and other questions you may have, will be answered by our
distinguished scientists from the Center of Scientific Studies. May I
introduce the illustrious and eminent scientists, Eclipse, Bright-Eye, and
Dark-Star, all venerable experts in their respective fields. You will now
please excuse me, I have other duties to attend to." The Presider glided
rapidly away in a flutter of red ribbons, and the alien identified as Eclipse
spoke, its "voice" several tones higher than that of its leader. Eclipse's
skin was a soft beryl in color, and the node was wearing a cape of what looked
like white linen cloth, finely woven and fancifully embroidered with designs
in different-colored threads.
       "Writing on stone is no more difficult than forming the stone into
useful shapes in the first place. It is simply a matter of body chemistry,
although it takes a great deal more time, dissolving stone rather than ice.
Writing -- here, I shall show you -- goes quite quickly indeed."
       Eclipse, obviously named for the semicircular segment of dark gray in
the rim of its yellow iris, glided to what looked like a bookcase that had
been carved into the solid wall of the room and picked up one of the stone
tablets stacked there on one of the shelves. Then, with a swiftly extended
tentacle, the alien added a few characters to the squiggles that closely
filled the sheet of rock.
       "I merely exude a small amount of..." there was a pause as the
translation program in their suits conferred with Josephine through the
commsats overhead to get the proper translation through context of the
conversation. "...acid that dissolves the rock, and then reabsorb the
resulting solution." There was a pause as the tentacle used for the writing
pulled back from the rock sheet, shrank down, and pulsated a few times, while
the eye of the node rotated to look down at the tentacle.
       "Mmmmm. This rock is quite tasty." Eclipse then rotated its eye back
again until it was looking at the humans, the concave light on its head
following the motion of the eye, and continued. "A similar process, using fine
threads of flesh, is used by the stone masons to cut rectangular blocks of
rock from the bedrock beneath for use in constructing our buildings, and for
use by the platemakers who slice writing plates from those blocks for
record-keeping purposes."
       George moved closer so he could see what Eclipse was doing. He could
barely discern the tiny, intricate designs, and he watched, amazed, as
Eclipse's tentacle tip moved across a bare portion of the stone, leaving a
string of finely engraved symbols behind.
       "The characters are so tiny!" said George, impressed. "Wouldn't take
much acid to engrave them."
       "The large size of their eyes means they can see quite small features,
George," Deirdre reminded him quietly through their imp link. "Their vision is
far superior to ours. I wonder -- Cinnamon had me bring along one of her
posters to give to the icerugs -- shows humans without suits. Think you it
would be interesting to share at this time?"
       "That's why we included the poster on this foray," replied George.
"Eclipse and the others are supposed to be various kinds of scientists. Let's
see if any of them are interested in human physiology."
       Deirdre drew the poster in its tube from her chestpack, and unrolled
the slender cylinder before the alien's eye. It was an innocent scene,
romantically pastoral in the Maxfield Parrish tradition. It showed a young man
and woman strolling through an exotic meadow holding hands, wearing no




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spacesuits and indeed, very little else. The icerug scientists gathered close
with the first suddenness the humans had noticed from them, and tentacles
reached out to touch the paper, feeling dexterously along the edges and
smoothly over the flat surface.
       "This is a most unusual substance," boomed Eclipse. The picture is
mildly interesting, although the colors used are strange -- but what is this
picture plate made of? Can you return it to the shape of the small container?"
       "Indeed, yes," said Deirdre, demonstrating. The room throbbed with the
low tones of several icerugs speaking at once, and an air of excitement grew.
The probing tentacles were still careful with the poster, but Deirdre thought
it wise to show them the frailty of the new substance. "Look you, it is light
and easy to write upon with many tools, but it will tear." She slowly ripped a
small corner from the bottom, and extended it to Eclipse. "Yes, it is much
more fragile than rock or ice. But it is larger and thinner and lighter than
anything we know -- large maps and charts can be made upon it.
       "Is it an element only obtainable from your world?" asked Eclipse,
holding the fragment of paper up before its large yellow eye in a
beryl-colored tentacle.
       Deirdre searched her mind for the basics of paper manufacture, while
George puzzled that the picture itself was of such little interest to these
creatures.
       "Paper is made of small fibers. They can be practically any sort of
fiber, such as the fibers that make up the threads used to weave your cloaks.
If you have plant fibers, like those in seaweed, you can make paper -- it is
simply a process of making a mesh frame, filling it with a thin layer of pulp
... slurry..." She hesitated as her imp warned her that the translation
program did not include those words, and Deirdre stopped, seeing the
difficulty. With the marking pen she used for labeling sample bags, she
sketched on the back of the poster a simple box frame with a screen stretched
across it, and above it, a number of layers of criss-crossed threads.
       "Paper's so easy," murmured Richard. "I'm surprised they've not got it
already, especially since they make thread to weave cloth."
       "You need a slush of threads and water to make paper," said Deirdre
briefly over their private imp link. "Difficult to imagine here, isn't it, how
to form a slurry at below freezing temperatures?" Still, she persevered.
Showing Eclipse the diagram, she started to explain it.
       "You start by mixing fine fibers in a container of liquid water. You
use a device like this, which passes water, but holds onto the fibers, to
extract the fibers from the water to form a thin mat. You press the water out
of the mat and dry it with heat. It must be dry, not frozen..."
       It was enough. The advanced intelligence of the alien had already
sorted several possibilities. Eclipse raised its beryl tentacle which was
still holding the torn-off bit of paper.
       "This will help, when I have looked at it under a microscope. I shall
go now, and with my assistants shall work on trying to duplicate this ...
paper." Hearing the human word, spoken in the deep bass voice of the alien,
startled Deirdre. She turned to George, who was attempting to give Dark-Star a
description of how his braided safety rope was made.
       George had cut off a section of the rope and unbraided as strand of the
superstrong polymer monofilament line. Dark-Star's tentacles instantly reached
to touch, and flex, and tug on the strong line, while questions came faster
than George could respond.
       "It is a single long thread, made by extrusion..." his translation
program complained, and he tried to simplify his explanation. "A heat-softened
compound of the right chemicals is forced through a hole of fine diameter,
into a cooling bath, where it hardens into a long thread. Sometimes the
compound used is a sticky substance that is forced through the hole into a
chemical solution that causes it to change into a hard substance..." George
was dismayed to realize that that was about the limit of his knowledge of
monofilament lines. There was a moment's delay, before he remembered




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Josephine's inexhaustible references and tapped into them. Unfortunately, they
were all too technical to be of much help in his explanation, designed as they
were for the use of the Christmas Bush. However, a few understandable phrases
-- along with another quick sketch by Deirdre of a rather basic extrusion
machine -- seemed adequate for Dark-Star.
       "Coelashark bones and fins, from which we make glues -- they have a
chemical structure that might be adapted to this purpose. And compounds from
seaweed -- they are many and varied -- we still find new uses for them.
Perhaps you would want to see where we work with them?"
       As George, Dark-Star, and several other icerugs moved out of the room,
Richard noticed that with their withdrawal, the light in the room diminished
considerably. Glancing about him, Richard saw that, apart from the glowing
spots on the heads of the creatures themselves, no light was available. Of
course, since the concave spots shifted around on the spherical head to
illuminate the direction that the single eye was looking, there was always
enough light for each icerug. Almost as though following his thoughts, the
icerug referred to as Bright-Eye bent its large eye with its light blue iris
slightly to Richard.
       "As you can see, this room becomes dim without a large group of us
present."
       Bright-Eye itself was lighter in color than its peers -- a rather soft
aquamarine, and the swirling woven cloak with the intricate designs was the
same shade as its velvety body. "Is your own vision augmented by such light
that we cannot see it? Or perhaps you can see without light?"
       Richard decided not to admit any human weakness, simply as a
precaution; however, he reached for the solar-rechargeable permalight hanging
from his belt to show Bright-Eye that humans also had a means of illumination
-- although it was artificial rather than natural.
       Meanwhile, Deirdre rolled up Cinnamon's poster and stowed it in her
chestpack. If the icerugs were not interested in having the picture, Cinnamon
would certainly want it back. She understood Richard's reticence, and was not
so critical as she might have been about his decision to display advanced
earth technology in the form of the permalight. She watched silently as he
played the light about the room, illuminating the farthest corners. The bright
white light beaming from the flashlight was much more powerful and projecting
than the weak blue bioluminescence of the glowing cavities formed in the
icerug bodies. Bright-Eye and the remaining icerugs drew closer, to handle the
little torch, turning it off and on as children might.
       "Is this a part of your head, which you can separate and carry?"
Richard forbore to answer the question directly, but began to dismantle the
instrument. "It is a machine, that we make from various metals and chemical
compounds. See, the bulb here contains a fine filament, made of tungsten
metal. When electricity passes through it..."
       "That word was not translated."
       The two humans paused, initially dismayed. Deirdre was now concerned
that they were interfering too much with the alien culture's development. If
the icerugs knew nothing about electricity, perhaps too much had already been
shown to them. Richard, however, was undaunted and began considering how the
icerugs might possibly make a device similar to a flashlight, for they
certainly didn't need to know all about electricity to do so. Without glass
for a bulb to hold a vacuum, however, it looked impossible. Still, a long
sliver from a nickel-iron asteroid with a high melting point and a reasonable
resistance might glow a bright Barnard red color in the reducing atmosphere of
Zulu for some time, if fed by a carbon-iron battery. As Richard related his
ideas to Bright-Eye, the alien's superior intelligence ranged widely,
considering what it knew of the materials available to it. As it cogitated,
its eye wandered higher and higher until it was looking straight up in the air
in deep thought, the top portion of its spherical head glowing in a circular
halo around its aquamarine eye stalk.
       "You say fine fibers of metal are needed to carry this electricity from




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one place to another. Perhaps gold or mercury would be easiest to form into
these ... wires. And the generation of energy in something called a battery,
using sheets of metal dipped in water containing salt or acid ... if indeed
this electricity exists, I should be most interested in experimenting with it.
A curious fact we have long pondered, regarding metals, is that when we hold
two dissimilar ones at the same time, our tentacles experience an extremely
sharp and bitter taste."
       As clearly as possible, the humans speculated aloud on various
combinations and experiments that might prove fruitful, while the alien's mind
absorbed everything and said little. Finally, Bright-Eye spoke.
       "We must go to the laboratory, and plan a logical series of trials.
Would you care to come along?" Both humans assented eagerly, and set off
behind the quickly traveling alien, relaying to Josephine their progress so
George would know where they had gone.
       Bright-Eye moved swiftly down a wide, stone-arched tunnel, along the
flat ice floor covered with the skein of icerug threads. The alien seemed
disinclined to talk as it moved, and both humans were grateful, as they were
moving at a pace which would have made conversation difficult. When they
turned into yet another tunnel, this one quite simply hewn out of polished
ice, they sped up yet again. The humans saw that the floor of this tunnel now
contained only one wide band of aquamarine -- evidently this was Bright-Eye's
own territory, and they were now running at such speed that stepping on the
velvety ribbon of flesh was unavoidable. Richard puffed out an apology, but
the icerug emitted only a sound which their translator interpreted as, "It
means nothing." The alien slowed its speed, then, as though it had observed
the effort the humans were making in order to keep up while walking on the
slippery flesh. They had traveled nearly a half kilometer, along this deep
solitary tunnel, lit only with the glow from Bright-Eye, when Deirdre
stumbled, and muttered something about "moving sidewalks". Richard too found
it suddenly difficult to keep his feet, as the colored band on which he was
walking seemed to twist and jerk.
       Neither person was alarmed; both assumed this jerky motion of the
icerug path was yet another manifestation of icerug physiology. Bright-Eye,
however, had stopped dead, and the glow from its midsection increased to
illuminate the entire tunnel, while its node sank down into its supporting
stalk.
       "Icequake!" boomed the deep voice of the alien, in obvious panic, its
eye rolling around in all directions as it scanned the tunnel walls. Then they
all heard the ominous creaking, screaming, crackling sounds of frozen
substances under tremendous pressures. Chunks of ice spalled from the walls
and ceiling.
       "The tunnel is collapsing upon us!" Booming incoherently, the icerug
seemed to melt before their eyes, shrinking down on its pedestal in a
desperate effort to protect its head and eye from being crushed.
       "Get down!" yelled Richard, as the top of the tunnel started to push
down on the top of his head. Bright-Eye was now lying flat upon its own
carpeted path, its eye stalk contracted until its eye was resting beside its
larger globular head. The tough sixed-lobed nictitating membrane of the eye
was closed tightly shut over the vulnerable eyeball. The ice itself was
echoing, in grotesque parody, the groaning sounds of the terrified icerug.
       Richard had heard those sounds from ice before, from icebergs and
glaciers, as they deformed and stretched, before succumbing to the
irresistible forces that shaped them. What chance had puny humanity against
such elemental power? Deirdre was alarmed, he saw, but she had no real inkling
of the tremendous danger they were in. The humans, first stooping, and then
kneeling in the slowly contracting ice tunnel, were forced to the floor along
with the icerug by the slowly collapsing ceiling.
       "Deirdre! Make an arch!" gasped Richard, crawling towards the
vulnerable eye and head of the alien and curving his body over them. Deirdre
slithered over to cover the icerug's eye, and interlinking one arm and one leg




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with Richard's, added her strength to his, endeavoring to use their combined
muscles and bones in a probably futile attempt to resist the deadly,
increasing contraction of the ice.
       "Increase suit pressure!" shouted Deirdre to her suit imp, and Richard
understood. Instantly, both people demanded pressure increases within their
carefully engineered suits, and soon -- yawning violently to alleviate ears
popping with pain -- they were answered with many atmospheres of internal suit
pressure. The tough glassy-foil suits stiffened, swelling until the elbow
joints were locked and rigid. The pressure from the ice above grew. Foxx's
small body trembled and chittered against Deirdre's throat; however, at a soft
command, the animal was still.
       The entire head of Bright-Eye was now glowing in fright, and in the
weird blue bioluminescent glow, Deirdre was amazed to see her gloved hands
slowly sinking into the ice. She knew that even with the stiffened sleeves of
the suit helping to keep her elbow joints from bending, the bones in her
wrists and forearms weren't strong enough to do that. Once her arms had
penetrated into the ice above her elbows, however, the ice froze about the
suit material, adding support. The same thing was happening to Richard. They
were both sinking into the ice. But instead of her torso crushing down on the
vulnerable eye of the icerug they were trying to shield, Bright-Eye's eye and
head sections seemed to sink into the ice too, until finally Deirdre's chest
was supported by the icy floor of the tunnel, while the Bright-Eye's eye was
safe in a cavity in the ice below her. Deirdre was now completely encased in
ice and could no longer even move her helmet to look around.
       At this point the distressed sounds of moving ice ceased, and the three
felt all motion within the now-shrunken tunnel stop. The sudden silence
registered in Richard's mind, and he felt a surge of hope; they were still
alive, although in such perilous circumstances he could hardly comprehend
them. Trapped, cut off from everyone, and surrounded by unyielding ice meters
thick -- they had little chance of escape.
       Less knowledgeable about the severity of their situation, Deirdre
attempted to relax her quivering muscles and assess their predicament.
       "Right, Richard, make an arch, you said, and that we've done. A fine,
sturdy one, too! How long will it take to dig us out, d'you think?"
       "Assuming they find us," said Richard, trying to sound calm.
       "Only a small segment of the tunnel has collapsed," said the booming
voice of Bright-Eye, slightly muffled by the close proximity of the ice close
around them. The voice of the alien was now steady and sure, and devoid of
panic. "I will have us out shortly."
       The humans's view of their surroundings vanished in a blur of
aquamarine, as Bright-Eye enveloped their inflated suits with dissolving
chemicals from its own body. Then, in the same way that it had melted away the
ice under the humans's stiffened hands and feet, and from under its own head
and eye to form safe cavities in the ice, the alien set to work dissolving the
constricting ice around them, melting it away with amazing speed, and
depositing the resultant water into the ocean below through its distant waste
tunnel. It was less than an hour later when the humans again stood upright,
their suits restored to normal pressure, with Bright-Eye standing tall beside
them, poised on its pedestal on its ribbon of aquamarine.
       "I owe you my life," it said. "I owe you flesh. My students owe you
flesh. My Center owes you flesh. My nation owes you flesh." Deirdre was
slightly appalled at this, wishing that her suit translator could find another
word than "flesh". Deirdre picked up a word that the translation program had
used. "Students?" As all three creatures proceeded slowly along the tunnel,
feeling almost a comradeship after their shared danger, Bright-Eye explained.
       "I and my laboratory are part of the Center of Scientific Studies. I
seek new ways to use the natural materials we have available, and new
combinations and uses for the products which we make ourselves. I have young
icerugs about me, to learn what I can teach them, and they of course have
ideas of their own. They help support me with their flesh, and the rest of my




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need for flesh is provided by the Center of Scientific Studies, from what they
collect routinely from their portion of the assessments levied by the
Governing Council. My students are many, just now. For your acts of preserving
the life of their teacher they will be willing to provide you with some of
their flesh whenever you wish it."
       Richard and Deirdre exchanged a look, but could think of nothing to
say. Fortunately, the widening tunnel they were traveling along soon opened
into a spacious room, lined with shelves of reading plates and filled with
strange equipment. The functions of some of them were instantly recognizable
from their shapes, while others were so strange that neither human would have
hazarded a guess at its purpose.
       "A grand analytical balance, with a double-pivot knife-edge suspension
system," said Deirdre, pointing to a double-pan scale, complete with stacks of
graduated weights lined up before it. "Very accurate, that'll be."
       Bright-Eye's booming tones called a sort of greeting to the several
icerugs in the laboratory, each busy with its own eye directed at some task.
They collected about the newcomers, and at the conclusion of Bright-Eye's
introduction of the two humans, and a narrative of the recent rescue by them,
each of the students declared its debt of flesh. The apprehensive humans were
relieved to discover that this was apparently simply an acknowledged debt that
could be called in at any time; no alien actually presented them with a
portion of itself. Bright-Eye was eager to have its students see and
understand the flashlights of the humans. Both humans produced their
permalights and turned them on. They noticed that the icerugs turned to avoid
the light directly coming into their own eye.
       "Their eyes are more sensitive than ours, and well I know I don't like
one of these shining right in my own eyes, indeed," murmured Deirdre. After
that, both humans were careful to direct the powerful beams onto the floor, or
the work at hand, rather than the aliens themselves. Demonstration of the tool
led to explanation and analysis. The quick intelligences of the aliens soon
led them to discussion of how they could construct such a device with icerug
materials. Various substances were brought, manipulated, and discarded.
       Richard found that the icerug laboratory did have an oven of sorts,
well insulated from the freezing cold room by blocks of volcanic tuff and
heated by endothermic chemical reactions. It could reach a few hundred
degrees, high enough to carbonize seaweed, bone, and flesh, but not high
enough to melt any metal except mercury.
       "With sheets of carbon made from seaweed and nickel-iron sheets from an
asteroid, and a little concentrated ocean water or dilute acid, like you use
to dissolve rock, we can make a battery," said Richard. "Then all we have to
do is try different carbonized threads and nickel-iron slivers until we find
the right length and thickness to make a good, long-lasting incandescent
filament."
       It didn't surprise Richard that a carbonized thread of seaweed fiber
turned out to be the best filament. Until tungsten filaments came along, that
had been Edison's conclusion too. Edison had found that the most practical and
least expensive filament for an incandescent lamp was a piece of tough bamboo
fiber baked until it was black.
       Richard was going to reconfigure one "hand" of his suit imp to act as a
combination voltmeter and ammeter, but soon found that was unnecessary. Just
as the early pioneers in electricity had learned to do, the icerugs soon found
they could "feel" the amount of voltage generated by a battery by the strength
of the "taste" produced in the tips of their tentacles when they put them
across the battery terminals. At Deirdre's insistence, Richard didn't access
Josephine's electrochemical tables to suggest different elements for the
battery, but let the icerugs experiment for themselves. With surprising speed,
the icerugs soon fitted together a crude but working battery-powered light of
their own, and then set immediately to improve the power and life of the
battery, using the tiny glowing filament itself as a rough indicator of the
strength of the electrical current flow. Fortunately, they could see well into




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the infrared, and so could observe significant changes in the heat radiation
emitted from a filament that looked completely black to the eyes of the
humans.
       While the students worked away at their tasks, Deirdre studied intently
the workings of an intricate instrument near her, made almost entirely of ice,
within a framework of carefully shaped and polished stone. The beauty of it
reminded her of sculpture, but she knew, almost instinctively, that it must be
a form of microscope. One of the students, seeing her interest, quietly
indicated the tiny, but finely shaped discs of ice which served as lenses, and
the large condensing lenses that focused the concave light from the observer's
body onto the sample being observed, and with a thrill of delight she
recognized that a peculiar looking piece of gleaming bone was a focussing
knob.
       Meanwhile, Richard and Bright-Eye completed assembly of yet another
trial flashlight, and one of the younger aliens reached a tentacle to connect
it to the now refined source of battery power. With what the humans felt to be
satisfaction and pleasure, the icerugs contemplated their glowing handiwork
raptly. However, almost immediately, they began its disassembly, booming
quietly between themselves.
       Their suit imps at this point chimed simultaneously, and Richard and
Deirdre glanced at each other. It was a simple time signal, indicating they
should begin the trek back to rejoin the _Dragonfly_, which would be flying in
shortly. With surprise, each noted the other was worn with fatigue; mutual
concern therefore made it easier to speak to Bright-Eye of their intention to
depart. The alien left its students at once, to lead them swiftly back along
the tunnels with their ever-increasing bundles of varicolored strands, then up
to the surface via an exit tunnel not too far from the Grand Portal. Here in
the city the ice was smooth and polished underfoot, and the two humans were
soon walking briskly through the narrow ice corridors between blue-green
icerug bodies towards George's waving arm in the distance at the landing
field. In the sky above, the _Dragonfly_ could be seen descending from the sky
as Barnard started to rise over the horizon.
       "Let's get a move on," called George through their imp link. "The
flouwen have already been picked up by the _Dragonfly_ and are ready to be
taken back to the lander so they can get out of their suits and freshen up."
       "Sounds good to me," said Richard, breaking into a ground-covering
lope.
--------
         *CHAPTER 09 -- RAINING*
       The _Dragonfly_ returned to the _Victoria_ and went through the usual
routine; the humans climbed the ninety rungs of the Jacob's ladder to the
airlock door, while the flouwen rode up on the winch elevator. From the
airlock, the flouwen were sucked back into their tank, to empty their waste
vacuoles into Josephine's efficient sewage treatment system that could cope
with anything but heavy metals, and to refresh every cell with clean,
freezing-cold ammonia water.
       #K-k-k-keeeek-k-k-k# exclaimed Little Purple with pleasure, as he
placed his purple-colored body about the jet coming from a nozzle in the top
of the tank, and expanded himself out into a purple balloon. Filled almost to
bursting, he slowly let the refreshing liquid percolate through his
thinned-down body.
       *My turn!* complained Little Red, trying to push a red pseudopod
between the neck of the purple balloon and the jet nozzle. Little Purple
continued to expand until the ballooning sides of his body touched the
cylindrical wall of the habitat on all sides. Then, closing off the intake
hole, in order to trap the body-full of clean fluid inside, he finally moved
down to the center of the tank and let Little Red have the jet. Meanwhile, the
patiently waiting Little White went to the habitat taste-screen, to put onto
Josephine's extensive memory his recollection of all the flouwen had observed
during their exploration trip.




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       Little White wasn't the only one providing input to Josephine. Many of
the humans -- those not taking showers or eating -- were also busy at
touch-screens. Some were adding comments to the video pictures taken by their
helmet monitors and automatically transmitted back though the commsat links.
Others were relating experiences and thoughts inadequately captured on either
video or audio, while others were making recommendations for the next
excursion.
       The three who had visited the city center, George, Deirdre, and
Richard, carefully edited and annotated their experiences. They, of course,
knew that their comments were simultaneously available to the imps of the rest
of the crew, and comment and speculation about their reports became general.
Later, Deirdre took David aside to tell him in more detail of the alien
concert.
       He questioned her; "So all the instruments were percussion, or
variations of stringed instruments?"
       Deirdre thought. "That's right enough," she agreed. "Such big drums
I've never seen, and deeper notes than I could be sure I was hearing, perhaps
just feeling with my body. And all sorts of stringed shapes, with the strings
being plucked, and hit, and played with various bows. Chimes there were too,
long hollow cylinders of ice, and arrays of resonating disk-like ice shapes
like cymbals, but played with a soft mallet like a gong, and a marvelous sort
of xylophone, with long bars of solid ice over hollow resonating chambers."
       "But no wind instruments, not so much as a whistle?"
       "No," said Deirdre. "And look you David, how could there be if the
creatures do not breathe? They have no lungs to store air, so their mouths are
used only for eating."
       "Pity, though," said David absently, and Deirdre looked at him sharply.
       "Hold, David. Their music is wonderful, and contents them, I've no
doubt. Would you be giving them a synthesizer, or some such daft thing?" David
grinned wickedly into the burning green eyes at the thought of an icerug
confronted with the keyboard of one of his highly complex sono-video
synthesizers.
       "Since they can't blow with their mouths..." mused David. "Then any
kind of wind instrument is out -- even bagpipes." The image of an icerug in a
kilt playing a bagpipe jumped into both their minds, and a wry smile dimpled
the corner of Deirdre's mouth to match David's wide grin at the thought. "But
not _all_ wind instruments. Did you say that their chimes used long hollow
cylinders of ice?"
       "Yes," replied Deirdre, a little concerned. "You'll not be meddling,
will you now, David?"
       "Of course not!" David assured her as he left. He went to a console and
pulled up the video images taken by the helmet cameras during the concert. He
found the frame that he was looking for and had Josephine carefully measure
one of the instruments. Then he sought out George and spoke eagerly to him.
       "Shirley and Arielle have designed a survey routine for obtaining a
good population density map of the entire inner pole geyser ring. I've set up
a computer routine with Joe to carry out that procedure. On the next outing,
instead of monitoring Joe, I'd like to go with you to the city to see this
orchestra. The music you transmitted was full of peculiarly interesting
sounds, and I'd like to know exactly how they were produced."
       "I don't see why not -- if Arielle, Shirley, and Joe are sure they
don't need you aboard the _Dragonfly_," agreed George. He paused to recall
what had been planned for the next few Zulu days. "Let's see ... we plan to
return to Windward in about twenty hours, just before the next Zuni
conjunction. The conjunction tide will be assisted by the Barnard tide, so it
should be larger than normal, and Richard wants to see the geyser reaction
close-hand. We'll remain there about seven hours -- until the tide turns and
the geyser subsides, so Arielle can bring the plane in to retrieve us without
danger of the wings icing up. That seven hours should give you plenty of time
to learn about their musical instruments."




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       "_And twenty hours will give me time to have the Christmas Branch make
something to take along,_" thought David as he turned to leave.
       Richard and Deirdre, after a friendly dinner with the rest of the crew
in the view-port lounge on _Victoria_, spent half of the intervening twenty
hours in deep sleep in their bunks aboard _Dragonfly_. Bodies that had been
stressed beyond normal by the icequake needed rest. Richard gratefully shut
out all distraction with white noise generated by his imp, while Deirdre had
always had the gift of sinking into untroubled slumber within seconds of
wishing to do so. Foxx drowsed while her mistress slept, but was eager and
active the instant she awoke and headed purposefully for the galley.
       Sometime later, Arielle, on watch in the pilot's seat on _Dragonfly_,
lifted her head to sniff sharply. Since the weather was good, and the airplane
was resting safely on the ground, she had no hesitation in leaving her post
abruptly in pursuit of the tantalizing aroma. When she got to the galley, she
found she had to stand in line.
       Deirdre's round brown loaves of Irish soda bread, stuffed with
pseudo-currants, were all ready to cut. When Deirdre was in the mood to make
omelets as well, meaning when she was as hungry as she was now, it was simply
a question of how many toppings one cared to add to the creamy scrambled
algae-egg base -- tiny bits of real ham, two kinds of grated algae-cheese, and
chopped green onions, tomatoes, peppers, and mushrooms from the hydroponics
deck on _Prometheus_. Steam rose from the fresh wedges of hot and fragrant
bread, and the omelets came just seconds apart from the two hot skillets
Deirdre alternated, skillfully, on the small stove.
       "S'wonderful, Deirdre," said George rather thickly through a big bite
of bread and algae-butter.
       "Sets you up for the day," acknowledged Deirdre, taking a generous bite
of her own cooking.
       Replete, George outlined the upcoming day's plans. George had been
promised a visit with the Presider to one of the intermediate level meetings,
to see how this extraordinary civilization was governed. Deirdre would go with
David to visit the musicians, while Richard hoped to meet with Pink-Orb, the
icerug astronomer and expert on tidal phenomena, to observe and measure the
geyser eruptions at close range.
       "From what I've heard so far, this is the most leisurely government
that ever existed," remarked George. "Seems to be just meetings. Some of them
vertical in the chain of command, and some of them horizontal between adjacent
areas at the same level. The Presider spoke of doing nothing but attending one
meeting after another, but never said anything about any action being taken."
       There were dissenting noises from several voices, and Richard summed
them up: "Oh, I don't know, sounds pretty normal to me."
       The four explorers were soon busily arranging the contents of their
chestpacks, belt pouches, and suit pockets. Richard and Deirdre carefully
checked every item they had carried the day before, to be sure that there had
been no damage done by the icequake. Aware that Foxx would be confined in her
suit for some hours, Deirdre sent the little animal flying about the cabin,
exercising small muscles so that they would be content to stay still, then
directed it to its litter box in the storage area of Deirdre's bunk. As the
russet body shot back from the bunk area onto Deirdre's shoulder, it sailed
past Shirley in the weak gravity, and she made a half-hearted grab for the
tiny animal -- missing.
       "Doesn't that get to be a nuisance, having to pack extra water and all,
to take her along?" she asked.
       "Not to me," was the cool reply. Arielle watched the small animal's
acrobatics rather wistfully; she had seen Deirdre asleep, with the soft fur
draped limply over her throat. No wonder she could slumber so deeply, with
that hair-trigger guardian so close. David's chestpack was bulging unwontedly,
and Richard watched, curious, as yet another peculiar object was stuffed in.
       "Is that a saw I see, David?" he said.
       "Never know when it mightn't be useful," David replied. Deirdre's ears




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pricked up. David had some project in mind, but was not divulging it -- now
why was that? She mulled the thought briefly, and gave it up. Too many other
things to think about, and her own hours among the icerugs were too precious
to her to waste in thinking of her fellow humans.
       The last things loaded were the three flouwen in their drysuits. Thomas
and Cinnamon winched them down from the airlock on _Victoria_ and helped them
into the airlock on _Dragonfly_, where they would stay until they reached the
shores of Manannan Lake. They had explored the smaller lake earlier, and had
found an underwater connection between the two. Today they would repeat their
surveys in the larger lake, while at the same time observing the geyser action
from underwater.
       "Make sure you stay well away from that geyser when it starts
spouting!" warned Cinnamon as she shut the outer airlock door on the three
flouwen. "You might get hurt."
       *Geysers can't hurt me!* bragged Little Red. *_Nothing_ can hurt me!*
       ^You were torn in two once,^ Little White warned. ^Next time you could
be in many pieces.^
       #Pieces so small you couldn't put yourself together again,# added
Little Purple.
       Instead of retorting, Little Red, for once, was silent, perhaps
thinking of the long period when two large pieces of himself had remained
separated back on Rocheworld, each piece thinking he was the only
Roaring*Hot*Vermillion. Then the humans had come, and had enabled his two
pieces to join up again into a single whole personality, with two divergent
memories of that long period of isolation from himself.
       Once the three flouwen were on board, Arielle smoothly launched the
_Dragonfly_ from the icy surface, and headed for the icerug metropolis. It
didn't take long for her to find a bare spot on the distant shore, far from
Windward City, where the flouwen could enter Manannan Lake easily. Even
_Babble_, lowered down from the cargo hull underneath the _Dragonfly_, had no
problem entering the water from the low ice shelf. The flouwen slipped into
the water during the waning hours of daylight, and the seven and a half hour
"night" on Zulu begun, well lit by the large half-moon Gargantua hanging
permanently in the sky above.
       The airplane took off and Arielle, again avoiding the swirling clouds
with masterly precision, flew the plane with its long and slender wings toward
the icerug city.
       "Look for a plum-colored carpet right about there along the shore
front," said Richard, pointing with his finger at the map showing on the
touch-screen. Arielle noticed the green splotch on her navigation display and
the plane tilted slightly as she changed its heading.
       "There it is!" said David, who had picked out the slightly more
purplish-blue-green plum shade from all the rest of the blue-green carpets.
       "Going down! Get ready to hop!" said Arielle. As she spoke, the plane
dropped with the smoothness of an elevator, to hover a half-meter above the
surface. George, David, Deirdre, and Richard jumped out onto the ice and
walked to the edge of the plum-colored carpet.
       "Strange color, is this," mused Deirdre. "Should be more blue-green for
the best sunlight absorption. The reddish color might be due to a recessive
gene."
       Pink-Orb's node soon appeared, gliding swiftly straight for them.
"Greetings! Greetings! Greetings! No doubt you have come to this spot to
observe the approaching eruption of the great geyser-god Manannan. My
mathematical models have predicted that the tide will be higher than normal,
so the resulting geyser eruption will be well worth the seeing. In fact, I
have been allocated this area on this side of the lake so that I may
accurately measure the height of each eruption." Pink-Orb held up a device
made of pieces of shaped, polished, and engraved slivers of fine stone, with
lenses and mirrors on it.
       "A quadrant!" exclaimed Richard. "Like a sextant, but covering ninety




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degrees instead of sixty."
       "How can you be so sure?" asked Deirdre. "It may look like a quadrant,
but it could be anything -- even a musical instrument -- for all you know."
       "Form ever follows function," said Richard, pulling his own sextant out
of his chestpack. The iris in Pink-Orb's eye widened as it saw the metal
device, and soon the two scientists were comparing the similarities of their
two devices.
       "How do you use it?" asked Richard.
       "When a geyser eruption starts, I place the telescope in front of my
eye, and adjust the angle-arm on the quarter-circle until the image of the top
of the geyser is on the fine line inside the telescope, while at the same time
observing on the same line, either the horizon with this mirror in this
position. Or, if the horizon is not visible, the center of the bubble with the
mirror in this position. After the sighting is complete, I can read the angle
from this engraved scale on the quarter-circle. Knowing the angle, and the
distance to the base of the geyser, I can use angle tablets to calculate the
height of the geyser."
       "Quarter-circle and angle-arm are obviously their terms for the
sextant's arc and index arm, and the device even has a bubble level to create
an artificial horizon. It's definitely a quadrant, Deirdre," concluded
Richard.
       Deirdre was satisfied.
       "What do you use for the liquid in the bubble level?" asked Richard.
       "A light oil with a very low freezing temperature," replied Pink-Orb.
"We get it from one of the internal organs of the coelasharks."
       _"Coela-liver oil,"_ thought George.
       "I too have come to observe, and measure the approaching eruption with
my sextant," said Richard. "And while the others will probably watch the
eruption when it occurs later on tonight, they also have other tasks."
       "We had better get moving," said George, heading for the Grand Portal
of the Great Meeting Hall, just visible a kilometer away around the lake.
David and Deirdre followed, leaving Richard with Pink-Orb.
       "You mentioned mathematical models," said Richard to Pink-Orb. "Does
that mean you can predict the conjunction times of the various moons, and the
height of the tides?"
       "Very accurately," replied Pink-Orb. "My model includes the orbital
parameters of all the major moons of Gargantua and their tidal effects on Ice.
It also includes an elastic model of the rocky core of Ice so that I can
separate the core tides and their phase delays from the ocean tides. It also
includes a model of the geyser itself, which has its own response delays and
resonances. This particular eruption will be larger than normal, since the
Sun-God is in the same part of the sky as the Near-God and their tides will
reinforce each other."
       "That will be some time from now," remarked Richard. "Around midnight."
       "Yes, but there are no clouds in the sky now, so I shall use the time
to measuring the positions of the minor moon-gods that are visible. With
enough measurements, the errors average out, enabling a more precise
calculation of their true orbits to put into my mathematical model. But I
can't do it with this instrument. Much too small and inaccurate. Would you
like to see my telescope?"
       "Certainly!" replied Richard with alacrity.
       "Step on my carpet and I will take you there," said Pink-Orb. "It is
near the center of my area."
       Richard stepped on the plum carpet, and instinctively assumed a
slightly bent-knee surfer's stance, as he felt himself lifted and borne off on
a wave, while Pink-Orb's node glided along beside him. He could easily see the
figures of George, David, and Deirdre trudging along the far side of Pink-Orb
on their way into the city, but no sign of any telescope.
       "I don't see any telescope. Do you?" he muttered over their private
suit-to-suit imp link.




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       "Be patient, and learn," Deirdre cautioned him over the link. "And
remember not to be interfering -- no suggesting ways to make it bigger or
better."
       "I'll try," promised Richard, trying to maintain his balance on the
slippery surfaced wave. After they had gone a hundred meters on Pink-Orb's
elongated isosceles-triangle carpet, they came to a strangely depressed
region, perfectly circular and about thirty meters in diameter, with a pointed
bulge in the middle, as though there were a short pole sticking up from below
the surface.
       "Here is my observatory," said Pink-Orb with pride as they glided up to
the edge of the depression and stopped. "Let me uncover it for you." As
Richard watched in astonishment, the carpet covering the depressed area opened
and withdrew, exposing an open mesh of ropes that covered a deep hemispherical
pit. In the center of the pit was a gigantic open-work telescope supported by
a massive mount. The support for the rope canopy rose from the top of the
mount. As he watched, the flesh around the periphery of the pit pulled the
rope canopy to one side to allow the telescope beneath a clear view of the
skies.
       "Wow!" exclaimed Richard as he took in the size of the telescope. "What
a monster! The main mirror is nearly two meters in diameter and the focal
length must be twenty meters or so."
       The voice of Josephine came in over Richard's imp. "It is similar to
the large telescopes Sir William Herschel used to make in the 1700s. But
significantly larger than any Herschel attempted. No doubt the lower gravity
of Zulu compared to Earth makes it possible."
       Pink-Orb started to describe the various features of the telescope.
"The mirror is made of mercury, warmed until it was liquid, then allowed to
freeze while under constant rotation. By keeping the telescope shaded when not
in use, it stays cold enough to keep the mercury frozen."
       "That would give you a perfect parabola," admired Richard. "Just what
you need for a good telescope. Much better than grinding lenses, like Herschel
did. That only gives you a spherical surface, which then needs to be
laboriously figured into a parabola. I see it's on an azimuth-altitude mount."
       "Yes," replied Pink-Orb. "I use this telescope for accurate position
measurements of the moon-gods with respect to the background stars. I have
another telescope nearby on a polar mount for use during longer periods of
observation, when searching for transient weather features on the major
moon-gods."
       "How do you rotate it in azimuth?" asked Richard. "That mount must
weigh a couple of tons!"
       "In this manner," said the node of Pink-Orb. Far below, portions of its
body rose up off the bottom of the pit and pushed against some posts built
into the base of the telescope. The massive mount started to turn slowly. "It
floats on a thin film of oil."
       Pink-Orb began to go down a spiral ramp around the inside of the pit,
and Richard found himself following the node down the spiral while standing on
a level platform made of plum-colored velvet. "We have some hours yet before
the conjunction. Let me show you the azimuth and altitude rulings. They are
the finest ever made on Ice."
         ****
As George, David, and Deirdre approached the Grand Portal, they met the
Presider, in its elaborate ribboned cloak and skirt, advancing to meet them
across its peacock-colored carpet. With ceremonial dignity, the Presider
welcomed George, and was still talking as the two of them started off to the
first "meeting." It was a regional meeting of the one hundred or so Local
Association Leaders of the Inner North North-West portion of the nation. The
meetings were led by the Convener of that region, while the Presider usually
attended as an observer.
       The sounds of musical instruments led David and Deirdre through the
Grand Portal and into an anteroom that looked like a storage and repair area




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for musical instruments, with many tools and devices for holding, shaping, and
assembling various musical instruments. Off in large side tunnels were storage
areas with different drums, harps, chimes, and strange resonating devices. In
one corner was what looked like "useful junk"; scraps of patterned drum skin,
hollow cylinders of ice chipped at the ends, cracked "boards" of cross-plied,
compressed, and dried seaweed that served as the icerugs equivalent of wood,
chipped beams of polished stone, and many coils of gut and fiber string,
slightly frayed in spots.
       There were two icerugs in the anteroom, apparently tuning the musical
instrument between them. Their large eyes turned to look at them. The taller
node lifted a monocle of ice with its tentacle of cyan, through which the wide
band around its iris shone like silver. The smaller icerug's eye was an almost
colorless light-blue, in contrast to its carpet covering which was a vivid
electric blue-green.
       The cyan-colored node spoke first, in the characteristic booming voice
of the icerugs.
       "I am named Silver-Rim, and this is Clear-Eye. You, the human called
Deirdre, were here before. You ... applauded ... our music by striking the
ends of your appendages together to make a sharp noise. It was a strange thing
to see, and new to us. I understand that it was meant to be a complimentary
gesture; therefore we accept it."
       Deirdre noted, with interest, that there was no implication in these
words of either humility or gratitude; an accurate delineation of these aliens
should include that fact. David's eyes had already fastened upon the huge,
fantastically carved stone frame before him, with its thick, regularly spaced
strings fitted so close together that human fingers would have fumbled over
them.
       "Greetings," he said, mindful of George's instructions. "I am named
David. I was told of your fine performances yesterday, and wanted to see, and
hear for myself, your splendid instruments. That is a truly beautiful
instrument, and a most unusual sort of harp. I imagine you obtain tones of
extreme depth from such a ... fine instrument." David felt unsure of himself
as he struggled to spout the fulsome phrases the aliens seemed to expect.
Fortunately, Deirdre took over.
       "Careful words they like, David, but not blarney!" To the icerugs she
spoke directly: "David is interested in music, and makes it for his own
pleasure and ours. May we ask a demonstration of some of your instruments?"
       Clear-Eye moved behind the giant harp without a word, and reached two
tentacles towards the rope-like strings. With strength and speed, the
appendages plucked half a dozen of the central strands, which visibly quivered
as they filled the ears with a deeply throbbing chord. Amazed, David bent
nearer, studying the strings which more nearly resembled cables. His fingers
itched to touch them, but he forbore to do so without an invitation, which was
not forthcoming either then or later.
       "I've never heard such a bass note, from a string -- sounds more like a
drum. May I ask what these strings are made of?"
       "These thickest ones in this ... size one harp, are made from the gut
of a coelashark. It is the largest harp in our orchestra." The computer
translation of the instrument's name was clumsy, thought David, but probably
as accurate as was possible in the circumstances. Making noises of genuine
admiration, he moved along the wall to the next instrument, a tall and
extremely narrow sort of drum. Without being asked, Clear-Eye thumped its
surface with a tentacle balled up at the end into a very efficient mallet, and
the resultant boom created pleasant reverberations in the human interiors.
       "Wow!" was their mutual reaction, and the icerug craftsmen took them
into the tunnels to show them more of the instruments stored there, playing
each of them briefly. Deirdre was struck by the artistry of construction, and
looked closely to verify her opinion that each was unique -- a one-off
creation. The surfaces, of natural materials, were polished to a high sheen,
but retained the grain, patterns, and whorls of stone, skin, and dried




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seaweed.
       David, after hearing so many variations of sound in the lower
registers, asked curiously, "Do you sometimes use other ranges in your music?
Those in the soprano?" He stopped when his imp said that the word was not
easily translatable, and remembering these creatures's skill with mathematics,
repeated the question, substituting vibrational frequencies for musical terms.
"Those notes which involve vibrations of one thousand cycles per second or
higher?" This, the computer could easily convert into vibrations per icerug
time units.
       In answer, Silver-Rim reached for a very small harp, like the others,
gleaming and unique. The tentacles stroked it lightly, and tones of about the
middle range jangled pleasantly.
       "We can make notes higher in pitch than these, although some of those
listening to the music are unable to sense them. The smaller of the ice-tube
chimes contribute a good high note, when it is wanted." The alien tapped on
the shortest one of a circle of long tubes of ice hanging at regularly spaced
intervals around a central pedestal. The tubular bell gave off a ringing note.
       "It provides an accent to our singing, but of course our own voices are
mostly in the range below..." There was a pause as Josephine converted the
response into human units. "...two hundred fifty cycles per second."
       "And middle C is 262 cycles," mused David. He turned to look at
Deirdre. "You should sing for them, Deirdre! Let them hear some of your
soprano trills," he said without thinking. A green glare shot through the
opposite helmet.
       "No, I should not," she said flatly.
       Hastily, David turned to the two aliens.
       "I understand that you do not use wind to make music of any sort.
Because we can produce winds with our mouths, we have long been turning breath
into varying notes, using our voices, or mechanical devices such as whistles
and pipes and..."
       Deirdre interrupted, "Those words are not going to translate, David,
what are you thinking of?"
       David began to remove from his chestpack the odd assortment of objects
he had brought along, and laid them out upon a nearby work surface. He walked
over to the "useful junk" area.
       "May I use some of these materials?" he asked before touching them.
       "Certainly," replied Clear-Eye. "They are not materials that we would
use to construct concert instruments, but they are useful for repair."
       David picked up three of the chipped hollow ice cylinders that had once
been tubular bells. He gave a soft whistle of relief when the outer diameter
of one of the chipped cylinders just fit into the larger end of the conical
device which he had brought along. His measurement of the video images of the
chime cylinders had been correct.
       "Is it a new technology you are introducing?" asked Deirdre sternly.
       "Just a whistle," replied David. "If my head wasn't inside a helmet, I
would blow into it and show you. See, here at the narrow end is where I would
blow, and here on the side is the notch that causes the interruption of
airflow which makes the vibration, and this is where the sound comes out.
Certainly a whistle is not high technology. The only difference between this
and a regular whistle is its size and this sliding valve for cutting off the
air."
       "If you can't blow it, and the icerugs can't blow it, then why are you
showing it to them?" asked Deirdre suspiciously.
       "There's more than one way to blow a whistle," replied David. "And
besides, it's not going to be a whistle." Ignoring Deirdre, he picked up the
saw he had brought along and cut the chipped ends off the hollow ice
cylinders, using a tape measure to make their lengths exactly correct, while
differing in length. He used the tiny lasers in his suit imp to fuse the ice
cylinders into the larger end of the three whistle-like devices the Christmas
Bush back on _Victoria_ had constructed for him.




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       Then, he picked up some dried seaweed "plywood" boards, sawed them into
shape, and assembled them into a box. Using the hand-awl and circular file
tools on his Swiss Army Mech-All, he cut three holes into the top, into which
the smaller end of the conical whistles fit tightly. The three tubes now stood
upright out of the box, one short, one medium and one tall.
       "It's an organ!" said Deirdre, fascinated.
       "Not yet," replied David. "It needs a source of wind for the wind
chest, and they don't have electrically powered rotary blowers here on Zulu,
so we'll improvise a bellows instead." He reached back into his chestpack and
pulled out a sheet of all-purpose tough plastic. "This stuff is flexible and
impervious to air. I imagine coelashark skin would work even better."
       Deirdre watched, as curious as the aliens, as David skillfully cut,
shaped, and folded the pieces of plastic and glued them between two triangular
pieces of seaweed board, one with a hole in it. He closed the hole in the top
board with an intake valve flap made of thicker plastic, and fit the exit
nozzle of the bellows tightly into a hole in the side of the wind chest below
the three pipes.
       First making sure the sliding valves under the three pipes were closed,
he separated the two boards of the bellows on their hinge. The air rushed in
through the large intake hole and the flap valve closed to his satisfaction.
He pressed gently on the handles and was relieved when he felt back pressure,
indicating that the bellows, wind chest, and valves were all air tight.
       Mentally crossing his fingers, he opened all three sliding valves under
the pipes, and pressed down hard on the bellows. Deirdre winced at the discord
that sounded from the three pipes, while the two aliens moved back sharply on
their carpets.
       "Close, but so wrong! I was trying for a C major chord. I should have
done them one at a time!"
       Although the aliens had been surprised, they immediately returned,
bending over the ugly contrivance. Silver-Rim's tentacles reached out, then
stopped.
       "You may touch it," said David generously. The humans watched in
silence, as the alien tentacles prodded the flexible plastic on the bellows,
felt delicately within the valves, and then closed the valves on two of the
pipes and pushed firmly on the bellows. The sound which emerged was not
pretty, but was at least a single, more or less coherent tone. Clear-Eye and
Silver-Rim began a careful examination, pushing the bellows frequently to
produce sound. Amazed, David saw that they had almost instantly learned to
produce the same force upon the bag each time; their tentacles apparently were
more sensitive to pressure than fingertips.
       Having tuned tubular ice chimes, they realized that the tones of this
musical instrument also depended upon the length of the tubes, and used their
tentacles to melt away and add ice to the ends of the tubes until they had
tuned the device to a harmonic chord.
       Then David put one gloved hand over the open end of one of the pipes
and motioned for Clear-Eye to push down on the bellows again. As the alien did
so, the pipe emitted a tone that was an octave lower in pitch. The bodies of
the two aliens emitted a "rowf" noise -- whether in surprise or pleasure
Deirdre never found out.
       "A stopped pipe produces a sound that is an octave lower in pitch than
an open pipe of the same speaking length," explained David as he stepped back
to let the icerugs repeat his experiment themselves.
       Once the icerug craftsmen had satisfied themselves that they understood
the construction of the valve and whistle mechanism, they left the device
David had made, went to their storeroom, and selecting some very long hollow
ice tubes, began to make, out of ice, a whistle and valve for each one.
       David bent closer to see, and Clear-Eye obligingly extended its
handiwork towards him. With dexterity and skill, the alien was indeed shaping
the ice as easily as an earthly potter worked with clay. Meanwhile, Silver-Rim
had been identically busy, producing a shorter pipe.




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       "It looks like they'll have no problem making pipes, but what concerns
me a little is the bellows-bag," he said, looking along the shelves and in the
junk area. "To make an organ large enough to be used in the Grand Meeting Hall
would require a gigantic bellows. Coelashark skins might be too expensive to
use."
       Clear-Eye pulled loose the bellows from the wind chest and extended it
to David, while at the same time Silver-Rim removed the three pipes.
       "This has been most interesting," said Silver-Rim. "Your demonstration
is clearly understood. Using air in this way might not have occurred to us for
a long time, and we shall want to try many things with these sustainable new
tones. This flexible substance of yours we return, as perhaps it is as
valuable to you as coelashark skin is to us. Something so simple as a ...
bellows to move air, we shall, of course, construct out of a more readily
available material."
       "What sort of material?" asked David.
       In answer, Silver-Rim pointed to Clear-Eye. "Observe."
       The human's gaze slid down the considerable length of the alien, to
rest upon the thickened area of electric blue carpet that had formed to one
side of its pedestal. With growing understanding, they saw a bulging fold of
the stuff take shape, and turn into a large and flexible pocket -- a wind
chest made out of living icerug flesh like the air bag of a bag pipe. The ends
of the five pipes, three made by David and two by the aliens, fitted into this
living bellows-bag with instant facility. The icerug expanded its own flesh to
take in a large quantity of air, and then compressed the pocket, while opening
the sliding valves under each pipe with caution, and the clear notes of the
ice-pipes sounded again in a perfect noble chord. Deirdre smiled with pure
pleasure.
       "Well done," she said quietly. "I cannot fault you, David. The use of
air is all you truly had to offer, here, and they'll be doing much with that."
       "We shall indeed," agreed the listening icerugs, who moved off into the
depths of their storerooms.
       The humans, reminded by Josephine of the impending eruption, turned and
left the room, although David looked back just once, longingly, at the huge
cable-strung harp. Outside, in the increasing light from Gargantua, they
rejoined George and Richard at the edge of Pink-Orb's carpet. Pink-Orb was
explaining what would happen.
       "As you see, it is approaching the middle of the night. The Sun-God is
behind Ice and the Night-God is full in the sky. We cannot see it, but the
Near-God is also over the outer hemisphere of Ice and lining up in the sky
with the Sun-God. You can see its black shadow moving slowly across the face
of the Night-God, approaching the center. You will soon see another shadow."
       As they watched, a black spot appeared on the right side of Gargantua.
It was nearly three times as large as the slowly moving shadow of the Near-God
moon, Zuni, and moving twice as fast.
       "That is the shadow of Ice," said Pink-Orb. "The moon-god we are on.
When the shadow of Ice and the shadow of the Near-God meet near the center of
the Night-God, the tide will be at its peak. But even before that time, there
will be geyser activity as the tidal pull of the Near-God and the Sun-God
stretch the ground below the ocean bottom." Pink-Orb stopped speaking and
raised its quadrant to measure the height of the water column, while Richard
imitated the motion with his own sextant.
       Roaring with a life of its own, the restless waters rising in the
distance surged upwards, bubbling and falling back only for an instant before
rising ever higher. Incalculable volumes of water rose in a powerful
upward-thrusting tower, thick vapors swirling around as it climbed swiftly.
Fringes of water fell from its sides, as most of the rising column was hurled
towards the sky in a thundering torrent which the eyes, both human and alien,
followed in awe as it rose above them. Still higher and higher it gushed. The
top temporarily disappeared into the clouds, then reappeared above them,
heading for space. Around them the sleet-like rains from the falling spray




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began, drenching the icerugs and deepening their colors. In the dim red light
of Gargantua, the falling downpour glowed like rubies before splashing onto
the frozen ice or the spongy surface of the icerug.
       "Uff!" The sudden cry from Pink-Orb startled the humans.
       Deirdre and the others had been totally mesmerized by the gigantic
waterspout, and looked around in bewilderment.
       "What happened?" demanded George. Pink-Orb's reply was reassuringly
elated.
       "A coelashark has landed on me! It is quite a large one, so I shall
bring it here to explore it for ripe vermicysts, and you may see it." David
watched the node expectantly, but the others, already accustomed to the
strange mobility of the icerug's surface, turned to gaze out over the distant
stretches of the carpet. Far away, a plum-colored mound arose in the vast
carpet, and moved towards them like a small and specialized wave, bearing a
legged fish upon its crest that was as large as a human.
       "I'd not fancied they could be so large!" exclaimed Deirdre. "This is a
particularly prime one, I am glad to see," said Pink-Orb. "Some coelasharks
are ejected by every large eruption, and although this was only a
moderate-sized outpouring, I was fortunate. More will fall at the occasion of
the maximum high tide, when both the Near-God and the Far-God are lined up
with the Sun-God."
       The humans were transfixed; George was trying to imagine a larger
geyser than the one they had just witnessed; David was staring at the weird,
motionless specimen of sea-life before him; Richard was grappling with the
idea of a rain of coelasharks; and Deirdre was studying every detail of the
huge fish, puzzled why its mouth was still twitching.
       "Is it truly dead?" asked Deirdre.
       "Yes," said Pink-Orb. "The fall always kills them, but fortunately
their strong jawbones and skull protect the delicious vermicysts in their
cheeks. They are an irresistible delicacy, although possibly not attractive to
you." Deftly and with surprising strength, two of Pink-Orb's tentacles forced
open the wide mouth of the coelashark, exposing rows of extremely
sharp-looking teeth. Both cheeks of the inside of the coelashark's mouth were
inflamed and swollen.
       "Looks like it bit its cheek," said Richard.
       "The inside of the cheeks of the coelashark head that Little White
brought back were smooth and white," said Deirdre. "These cheeks look like
they have something like a cold sore infection or a boil about to come to a
head," said Deirdre.
       "The swelling is so bad I bet it couldn't even chew," Richard added.
       With two tentacles holding the jaw open, Pink-Orb's other two tentacles
pressed on the inflamed cheek tissue, which broke open with a gush of fluid,
revealing a translucent oval-shaped object.
       "Ah! A delicious vermicyst. Here, you may look at it while I get the
other one." Pink-Orb handed the cyst to Deirdre to hold while it reached back
in the coelashark's mouth to pry loose the other one from the opposite cheek.
The humans handled the flat little cushion carefully, although it was
apparently constructed of a tough, semitransparent membrane.
       "Somewhat like 'mermaid's purses' -- egg cases of rays or dogfish,"
said Deirdre. "Except there are no tendrils at the corners. Look you --
through it -- against the light..." She held the cyst up, and shone her
permalight behind it. They could see what looked like tiny tadpole-like worms
within, wiggling furiously. Deirdre, with some sotto-voce commands to her
chestpack computer, zoomed her helmet video camera in on the strange treasure
until she had captured a high resolution image of the tiny creatures inside
the cyst. She wanted very much to keep the cyst and its worms for later
analysis, but the icerug was obviously waiting for her to give it back.
       "What are those little creatures inside the cyst?" asked Deirdre. The
icerug paused, with the vermicyst raised to it's mouth.
       "We have no knowledge of what the contents of the vermicyst actually




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are," said Pink-Orb. "We do know that they are so wonderfully good to eat that
they are usually consumed on the spot -- as this one will be." So saying, the
icerug's mouth opened, exposing small but extremely efficient-looking teeth.
The vermicyst was popped inside, over the teeth, and swallowed whole, without
chewing, like a human eating an oyster. Pink-Orb soon finished savoring the
tidbit, and was looking at the remaining vermicyst.
       "I should enjoy eating the other one, but I dare not. Although superbly
delicious, vermicysts are so rich in their nature that consuming more than one
frequently produces ... illness. I shall be able to trade this one, while it
is still fresh, for a set of reference plates of mathematical integrals. And
the rest of the coelashark I shall transport to the butcher for storage in my
food locker. Since the conjunction period is over, I shall now return to the
Center of Scientific Studies to report my latest findings regarding the
accuracy of my calculations in predicting the dimensions of this eruption. The
others at the Center will also be discussing their work, and of course, the
Convener of the Center always has a great deal to say, and says it at great
length, unlike my own brevity. There will be another large eruption, similar
in size to this one, in not quite two days. It will occur just before
midnight. Will you be returning to view it?"
       "Two Zulu days," replied Richard, thinking it over. "That's about
thirty hours. Yes. I'll certainly be here. See you a few hours before the
conjunction."
       The node moved off, with its precious delicacy secure in an elegant
pouch suspended from its neckband, while a plum-colored wave bore the dead
coelashark swiftly in another direction, but not before Deirdre had obtained
permission from Pink-Orb to take some samples using a biopsy punch. Off in the
distance, the humans could see the _Dragonfly_, flying in to take them from
the ice shelf. Their next stop would be the other shore, to pick up the
flouwen. Then they all would head back to _Victoria_ for a well deserved rest
and a decent meal instead of suit snacks.
--------
         *CHAPTER 10 -- FLUSHING*
       Returning to _Victoria_, the exploration crew were met by Cinnamon,
Sam, and Thomas, who already had lowered the winch in preparation for hauling
the flouwen aloft to the airlock. The flouwen were bubbling over in their
eagerness to report on what they had seen on their trip to the seamount vent
beds.
       "The coelashark was _walking_?" Cinnamon and Deirdre were startled by
Little Red's words, as he began to pour them out even before reaching the
comfort of the habitat. Little White continued while the red flouwen was
sucked out of his suit.
       ^Pull of water getting stronger and stronger -- we work hard to stay
and watch. There was very large coelashark, next to its vent bed. When geyser
started spouting, coelashark sink!^
       #That's right!# Little Purple took up the excited account. #It gave off
bubbles and sank to bottom. Then it drop sharp rock, pick up heavy rock, and
walk on leg-fins.#
       "Maybe picking up the rock helps it to fight against the current,"
suggested Cinnamon. "So that it's not swept up by the geyser."
       ^But,^ argued Little White, ^Why did it leave vent bed and go _toward_
geyser?^
       "What!" exclaimed both humans.
       *Yes!* shouted Little Red through their imps from inside the habitat.
*We saw it! Holding on to heavy rock, moving slow, but toward geyser!*
       #We did not follow it far,# said Little Purple. #Current too strong for
us. It did not come back.#
       ^Another coelashark, smaller, took over vent,^ finished Little White.
       Cinnamon and Deirdre continued to question the flouwen closely about
the strange, apparently suicidal advance of the large coelashark towards the
geyser, but learned nothing further. They sat together in the lounge,




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speculating.
       "Sounds like it deflated a swim bladder, that bubbling business,"
suggested Cinnamon.
       "And then resorted to another means of locomotion," puzzled Deirdre.
"Slower, but safer -- more controlled. Except that it persisted in heading
towards danger!" The two fell silent as they tried to puzzle out the meaning
of this strange behavior.
       Deirdre, still thinking, stretched long legs out to prop her boots up
on the ledge under the large view port in the lounge. Through the window she
could see a large storm in the distance, coming in from the leading pole. The
_Dragonfly_ would be grounded until it passed. Outside the window, forty
meters below down on the ice, the _Dragonfly_ had all its lights on. Arielle
could be seen in the cockpit window, taking Joe through a preventive
maintenance check list, while outside the airplane, Shirley and Richard were
screwing hold-down anchors into the ice and tieing _Dragonfly_ to them with
strong duralloy cables.
       It felt good to Deirdre to be out of the confining exploration suit,
and both she and Foxx were relaxing muscles weary with long tension. Katrina
entered the lounge with her morning-shift coffee, and Cinnamon described to
her the strange coelashark behavior. She, too found it inexplicable, and they
had again fallen silent when George came up the passway and headed
purposefully for the galley. He paused when he saw them, and looked at them
oddly.
       "Well, Deirdre looks as tired as I feel, but I must admit, it's a real
pleasure to see people sitting and not saying anything!"
       "We're not particularly gabby!" protested Katrina. "Usually," she then
qualified.
       "Didn't mean to say you three talk all the time," agreed George. "But
the icerugs do! I never heard such a crew. It's a perfectly good way to run a
country -- I was really impressed with their logic, and the discussions were
all calm -- but my God! they never shut up! Talk! Talk! Talk!"
       "What was it? A debate or something?" asked Cinnamon. "No," said
George, dropping into the reading chair by the viewport window. "It's
apparently just how they run things. Any little problem that arises is talked
over until everyone agrees. Today, it was all about assigning some territory
which became available when an icerug died. Everyone around the area had
plenty to say, and they all listened to every word, and then others were
brought in, and then the whole matter was put off for a time to allow everyone
to think about it for a while!"
       "Well, but new territory, that sounds pretty important to me -- proper
to get full agreement on it," argued Katrina.
       "Yes," laughed George. "But it turned out this discussion has been
going on for something like a hundred days, long before we got here! And
they're now just about almost ready to begin to think about maybe coming to a
decision ... anytime now!"
       Cinnamon chuckled, but her interest had been caught by the earlier
fact.
       "The icerug died? How?" she asked curiously.
       "They mentioned that lightning had struck the node," said George. "From
the way they spoke of it, I gathered that it's quite a rare occurrence, since
they normally go down into their tunnels when a storm approaches. But they
seem to accept death as inevitable, especially when a node becomes very old.
Also there are other accidents that can happen."
       "Like an icequake," Deirdre reminded him.
       "Like an icequake," George agreed. "There is also the possibility of
starvation. A good part of the meeting was taken up by a report by an icerug
that seems to be an ambassador of sorts, called a slender talker. It reported
on the status of a community immediately to the north that is in dire straits.
Their geyser failed some time ago, and the icerugs there are dying of
malnutrition. What intrigued me is that there was no expression of sympathy or




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compassion in the discussion of the icerugs at the meeting -- only a desire to
keep the others at a distance. There was even a vague reference to the
possibility that there might be what sounded to me like some sort of a
conflict or war. They didn't explain, or dwell on it long enough for me to get
much idea of what they were talking about -- just a word in passing, talking
about things that happened long ago, or might possibly happen in the distant
future ... listen to me," he said in disgust. "It's catching, I'm becoming as
talky as an icerug."
       Cinnamon politely denied that, and asked if the icerugs had a hierarchy
of any sort, or did everyone just speak in turn? George felt that the latter
was the case, and began a description of the speeches. Deirdre quietly slipped
from the lounge; she was ravenously hungry, and she knew the galley was well
stocked with an assortment of seafood. Within a very short time she had put
together a large and creamy seafood stew, thick with chunks of 'ponics-fish
fillets and tender bivalve meat from the clam-muscle tissue growth, Blue
Oyster Culture. Cinnamon had cloned the tissue sample from a Pismo Beach clam,
and had puzzled Nels with her choice for the name. He'd groaned, but accepted
the pun when she played him some of the old songs of the Blue Oyster Cult, a
1980s rock group. The sauce was fragrant with fruity white wine from James's
chemical synthesizer and herbs from Cinnamon's spice bed on _Prometheus_. It
was the sort of dish best made for a group, and along with Deirdre's fresh hot
biscuits it was profoundly appreciated. Sam, in particular, enjoyed it.
       "You know, I never tasted seafood until I left the ranch when I was
twenty-one, but when I did -- never could get enough of it," he said, helping
himself to thirds.
       Arielle swallowed quickly, to say, "This not the real thing, Sam, you
should have taste Canadian lobster! Not bad, though," she added, reaching for
another biscuit. Deirdre smiled to herself. As usual, there would be no
leftovers to worry about. After such a hearty meal, sleep came even more
quickly to the four explorers who had been out in their suits. They were
asleep in their large bunks on _Dragonfly_ long before the others had
completed their routines. Shirley and Arielle, who had enjoyed the easy duty
inside the _Dragonfly_, checked over the suits stored on _Dragonfly_ with Joe
and the suit imps, ensuring that every subsystem was checked, and that the
suit fabric was intact and the glassy foil had not been pierced by a
micrometeorite or scratched by a sharp rock. As always, Shirley took this
particular task seriously. Richard's suit was the final one to be examined,
and as she spread it out for inspection, a faint aroma of sweat caught her
nose.
       Arielle's own nose wrinkled slightly: "Richard work hard today, I
guess," she commented. Shirley shrugged, but as she and the Christmas Branch
restored the suit to its customary pristine condition, she became increasingly
quiet. Then she yawned aloud, and said, "Well, that's enough for me for today!
See you in the morning, Arielle."
       Arielle murmured something about waiting for her clothes to dry, but
grinned wickedly as she watched the tall blonde walk casually up the corridor
of the _Dragonfly_ to the crew sleeping quarters and pull the privacy curtain
open. Shirley turned to look back as she closed the curtain and caught the
grin. She stared coolly, and quickly stepped within. Arielle snickered, and
turned to check on the status of the microwave clothes dryer. She would wait
until her pajamas were dry and hot before going to bed. Her thin body was
always cold at the temperatures the rest of the crew found comfortable. The
dryer finally chimed and she pulled out the pink bunny suit, complete with
elastic cuffs and booties. It was warm and soft, and she clutched it close as
she listened to the noises of the ship. She was waiting to hear Shirley start
her shower, so she would know it was safe to part the privacy curtain. Instead
of the shower, however, she heard sleepily murmured half-objections from
Richard, before the Sound-Bar door on his bunk closed down and shut them off.
         ****
At breakfast the next morning, Richard and Shirley behaved towards each other




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with careful friendliness, but even such a temporary liaison resulted in the
heightened awareness of each other which periodically affected the humans.
Their differences in appearance, their emotions, their own desires suddenly
seemed to become noticeable again, after long days of dormancy.
       The passing storm was increasing in intensity, but during a lull, the
four members of the crew who slept on _Victoria_ put on their suits and joined
the six on _Dragonfly_ for a communal luncheon, leaving the flouwen and
Josephine in charge of the lander. They hurried through blowing snow and
rising winds as the cloud-darkened day grew pitch black with the arrival of
the noontime eclipse. When they entered the airplane, they could hear the hull
humming from the vibrations of the tie-down cables. Once they were all
together inside, it was like being trapped in a snowstorm at a ski lodge
during the holiday season -- all the comforts one could want and no work to
do.
       For David, of course, the reaction was to create a sono-video
composition on the computer console; some of it wild and stormy, some of it
calm and soothing.
       "I call it 'Ice Storm'," said David. "It's based on the weather
conditions outside. Let me play this first section for you."
       Soon, a group gathered around David's console to watch the
computer-generated video scenes, while listening to the music through
imp-earphones. The showpiece began with a stark scene of slick ice stretching
to the horizon, reflecting a black star-studded sky. It wasn't set on the
inner pole of Zulu, since there was no Gargantua in the sky. The music which
accompanied the slow panning motion over the stark landscape was equally
stark, with eerie auroral choruses, staccato icy crackles, and tinkling
stellar bells. A storm then loomed over the horizon, accompanied by deep
threatening chords and shrieking banshee wails which grew louder and louder as
the screen filled with images of driving snowflakes, first small, then larger
and larger until a single snowflake image covered the whole screen as it
rushed past the viewer at high speed. The snow turned into hail and the rattle
of the striking ice pellets grew so loud that they drowned out the howling
wind.... The screen turned black and the music stopped.
       "That's all I've done so far," said David. "Give me another hour or two
and I'll have the next part done."
       Deirdre liked David's show, but it had the unexpected effect of making
someone who was normally cool almost cranky. Thus, when Sam's hints for the
prospects of some of Deirdre's famous fresh hot waffles were accompanied by a
warm and tender smile, Deirdre not only glared, she growled, and Sam retreated
hastily.
       David's exciting music reawakened in Thomas and Katrina the urge to
dance; this was an exercise they both enjoyed on _Prometheus_, where there was
plenty of room, and where the lack of gravity made it simple to carry out
dramatic dance variations. They had Joe play some dance music through their
imps and began dancing while the others tried to get out of their way. It was
difficult to move freely in the confines of the _Dragonfly_, however, and they
had to be content with a few brief jigs and polkas up and down the narrow
corridor, trying to avoid bumping into the console chairs as they twirled
between them. It was fun, for both of them, but only for a few minutes, and
Katrina sighed, envious yet again of Arielle's dainty grace. George sighed
also; this forced day of rest already seemed long. He fervently hoped that the
aroused tensions discernible around him would dissolve by the time of
tomorrow's excursions. And, gradually, in their own ways and times, they did.
Cinnamon tuned out David's complex and sometimes disturbing compositions by
retiring behind the Sound-Bar door of one of the bunks to listen again to her
own favorites through her imp earphones, humming, and Deirdre vented her rare
upset in a satisfying argument with Richard on the wisdom of introducing new
ideas, however innocuous, to the icerugs. By the dawn of the next Zulu day,
the humans were physically rested and mentally restless; all were eagerly
contemplating the morrow's chances for discovery, but the storm was still




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raging outside.
       After dinner, the crew divided, with those assigned to _Victoria_
following a safety line through the driving snow as they made their way back.
The extra room in each vehicle felt luxurious, now, and the regular routines
of study, report-writing, and analysis came as welcome and pleasant work.
These were not people much accustomed to indolence.
       Finally, the storm ceased. A full Earth day had passed, nearly two Zuni
days, and it was time for the second Barnard-assisted Zuni conjunction tide.
Barnard's nearly four meter tide would be in a different phase with respect to
the eight meter conjunction tide, but the maximum tidal height should be well
above eleven meters, as it was on the previous Zuni conjunction.
       Quickly they prepared to lift off again in the _Dragonfly_. Cinnamon
replaced George on the _Dragonfly_ crew, George having decided to visit the
regional Convener and learn about the icerug's form of government from that
viewpoint.
       After dropping off the flouwen and Cinnamon at the entry point on
Manannan Lake where _Babble_ was waiting for them, and David and Deirdre at
the entrance to the Grand Portal, Arielle flew the airplane to Pink-Orb's
territory, and used the VTOL fans to hover over the snow-drift-covered
plum-carpeted area -- but Pink-Orb was not in sight. Richard stepped out of
the airlock onto the carpet, knowing that the Pink-Orb node, wherever it was
underneath the acre of flesh, would instantly know he was there. The carpet,
however, felt strangely flaccid under his feet.
       Richard waited, but instead of Pink-Orb's node coming to him, he found
himself being carried along the carpet by a plum wave, although much more
slowly than before. The traveling wave took him down a tunnel, and after many
turns, each turn carrying him deeper, he was deposited in a small room.
Pink-Orb's node was there, its eye dull and listless, its pedestal bloated,
and its body node barely giving off enough light to see by.
       "I apologize for not coming to greet you," said Pink-Orb in a
deep-pitched, sickly growl. "But I could not."
       "What's the matter?" asked Richard, concerned.
       "I'm sick," said Pink-Orb. "I guess I'm getting too old to handle even
a single vermicyst. Now ... I have been warned by the researchers at the
Center for Literature Studies that you humans have a taboo about speaking of
bodily waste functions. In fact, your formal language contains no word that
actually describes the true purpose of the room where you go to carry out
those functions. All the many words that you do use for that room are
euphemisms. Since you and I are scientists, however, I presume I can safely
ignore that taboo?" Pink-Orb paused, waiting for an objection from Richard,
then continued on. "I have what you humans call diarrhea."
       "Oh!" said Richard, smiling. "And this is your water closet."
       "More like an outhouse in operation," replied Pink-Orb. "For I must
supply the water out of my own body." A ripple passed through its bloated
pedestal and the pedestal deflated as Richard heard a gush of water. "I am on
top of a tunnel melted down through hundreds of meters of ice, which reaches
down to the ocean under the ice," continued Pink-Orb. "It is lined with that
portion of my body which serves the function of extracting nutrients and
essential bodily fluids, while disposing of wastes and excess water."
       "Sort of like our gut," said Richard.
       "Exactly," said Pink-Orb. It gave another exhausted groan and Richard
heard another flush of water.
       "I was going to suggest that you and I watch the upcoming geyser period
together..." said Richard.
       "Some other time," said Pink-Orb. "There will be some equally large
tides in about forty-five days. We can watch then."
       "I understand. I'll return at that time," said Richard. "Now how do I
get out of here?" But before he could turn, a plum wave formed and carried him
off up the sloping tunnel. Behind him he heard another groan, followed by the
sound of rushing water.




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       The first of the geyser eruptions was starting as Richard came to the
surface. After riding to the edge of Pink-Orb's carpet and walking out onto
the ice shelf, he set his feet firmly on the ice, turned on his position
transponder so the commsats could record his exact latitude, longitude, and
altitude to less than a centimeter as the ice under him rose and fell with the
tide, and raised his sextant to catch the height of the top of the geyser.
         ****
Hurrying down the Grand Portal tunnel behind David, Deirdre passed an entrance
to a large side chamber. She noticed a multitude of icerug threads leading
into it and interpreted their meaning; a group of icerugs had gathered within.
Curious, she took a quick look into the chamber and stopped, transfixed. One
end of the large room was covered, from floor to ceiling, with a gleaming,
glistening array of pipes of ice, all different lengths, solidly frozen
together into a gigantic sheet. Her eyes wandered along the topmost edges of
this amazing creation, where the end caps were carved into sparkling diamonds,
and then down the swooping lengths to the base, where the notched "mouths" cut
in the sides of the pipes were embellished with geometric carvings.
       Underneath the multiple bank of pipes, enclosing the foot of each pipe,
was a billowing cushion made of the velvety carpet of an icerug, in the cyan
shade of blue-green that Deirdre recognized as that of the icerug Silver-Rim,
lifting and billowing and quivering as though it breathed. She was so intent
on this marvel that she didn't notice the throng of icerug nodes standing
quietly around her on either side of the door, until the blue body-light of
one of them caught her attention and she turned to see them. She then saw the
node of Silver-Rim, standing quietly to one side of the organ, its eye
concentrated on the stone plate it held in front of it. The cyan carpet
inflated, then the portion of the carpet under the longest pipe twitched to
let the air flow in.
       At the first sound from the pipe, Deirdre forgot all about the icerugs
about her; she didn't even notice David coming into the anteroom to stand
beside her. For the sound was a note, a tone so deep, she thought it might be
the floor throbbing beneath her. It went on and on, steady and soft, and then,
as the pulsating beat continued, more and more tones joined in one by one, low
but rising, forming chords which changed and then swelled again, the notes
still rising through a song like a thousand human voices and still upward to
an ethereal chorus as if the aurora had been turned into sound. Then,
descending, the chords changed, shifting and blending, now softening to a
single pure note, now enlarging to a multi-tongued chord that reverberated in
every body. The hair on Deirdre's neck was erect, and Foxx quivered on her
shoulder, as the incredible voice of that mighty organ echoed in the vault and
filled every niche with beauty. Motionless, humans and aliens stood entranced
until, with a final melodic whisper, the instrument was silent.
         ****
In the waters below the ice shelf, the flouwen were busy. In their previous
survey of the vent fields around Manannan geyser, they had made a cautious
long range survey of the entire area using sonar. Now that they had a map, and
knew what types of lifeforms existed in different regions of the lake, they
began collecting samples of the smaller fauna and flora, sealing them up in
plastic bags, and taking them to Cinnamon, who inspected them briefly and put
them away in insulated carrying boxes, while the flouwen went back for more.
It was soon obvious that the lifeforms found beneath the thick ice under
Windward City were significantly different from those found beneath the ice of
the empty shore.
       #Many holes in ice,# Little Purple was explaining to Cinnamon. #Out of
holes flows much water, rich in tastes.#
       "Those might be the waste vents of the icerugs," said Cinnamon.
       *Taste like Creepy@Stink!* complained Little Red.
       ^But Creepy@Stink is good to eat,^ reminded Little White. ^There are
many things -- seaweed, sponges, fishes -- that are found only around vents.
They like vent water.^




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       "Please get samples of the water from around the vents," Cinnamon
requested the flouwen. "There may be tiny things in the water that can only be
seen under a microscope."
       *Back soon!* said Little Red, as the three flouwen took another
quantity of sample bags and swam off, moving gracefully despite their
constricting drysuits. They came to the edge of the ice shelf and swam under
it. The light from Gargantua faded away into blackness -- but that didn't
bother the flouwen. The sharp sonic pings from their bodies illuminated the
sea around them and the ice above them with a searchlight of sound.
       #That vent over there very active,# remarked Little Purple as he shot
off a focused beam of sound in the direction of the jet to draw attention to
it.
       ^It is emitting again -- very heavily,^ remarked Little White.
       *Something come from vent!* exclaimed Little Red, picking up speed and
sending focused chirp after chirp into the water, as he closed in on his
target. A quick swoop of the sample bag and the prey was captured. The other
two flouwen came to examine the prize with their sonar pings.
       *Tiny!* complained Little Red. *Not worth catching!*
       #Very tiny,# agreed Little Purple. #But different from other things.
Looks like tiny worm.#
       ^The human Cinnamon asked us to look for small things,^ Little White
reminded them. ^We shall take it back.^
         ****
Katrina and Deirdre bent over the sample bag, one of the many lying out on
their improvised examining table at the base of _Victoria_ while Richard,
Cinnamon, and Sam were winching the flouwen back up into the airlock. The tiny
inhabitant of the bag was still moving, although not as vigorously as when
Little White had first given it to Cinnamon. The ocean water within the bag
was starting to freeze in the frigid air, and both humans were anxious to
learn all they could from the minute life-form before it expired in this
hostile environment.
       "Very similar, it is, to the worms in the vermicyst that I obtained
enlarged video images of," said Deirdre thoughtfully.
       "We can take similar-sized pictures of this fellow and compare them,"
said Katrina. "Look, it's nearly motionless with cold, let's get it into an
insulated container until we've got some good pictures."
       The small biologist bounced up the Jacob's ladder carrying the
insulated box, while Deirdre collected the rest of their gear and followed
more slowly. Her thoughts were busy, exploring possible life-cycles,
untrammeled by convention. Learning of the bizarre and complex interaction on
earth between certain insects, flowers, lizards, and trees had long ago made
Deirdre aware that an individual creature could have an unbelievably
roundabout dependence on other creatures.
       "I talked some more with the flouwen," reported Cinnamon as she helped
Deirdre out of her suit. "Trying to pin down exactly where they caught the
vent worm. They remember exactly where they were at the time, and they and
Josephine pinpointed it with respect to underwater surface features. The
active waste vent was right under the area of ice occupied by Pink-Orb."
       In the small but efficiently organized lab space aboard the _Victoria_,
the three biologists used an optical microscope to look at the worm found near
Pink-Orb's waste vent.
       "It's a single-celled creature," said Katrina, as she adjusted the
focus on the microscope. "Has the typical double-knobbed cell structure of all
the creatures on Zulu, except that one knob has specialized into a large tail
so it can swim about."
       "There is a distinctive banding structure on the tail," said Cinnamon.
"That should help in the comparison."
       "Now to pull up the enlarged video image Deirdre got of the worm in the
vermicyst," said Katrina. Soon the two images were side by side on the screen.
       "The banding structure is the same on both worms," said Cinnamon.




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       "So," said Katrina, pointing to the two enlarged images on the console
screen. "Pink-Orb ate the vermicyst worms in this video image, and later the
worm in this microscope image -- with the _same_ banding pattern -- shows up
near Pink-Orb's waste vent. If not a certainty, it's a reasonable conjecture
that this vent worm passed through Pink-Orb's interior."
       "It's hard to tell because of the poor resolution of the video image,
but the head of the vent worm looks a little larger," remarked Deirdre, not
quite sure.
       Katrina, however, was positive. "I think that's just an optical
illusion because of the liquid in the cyst. There is no question about the
banding pattern though. They are identical.
       That vent worm came from the cyst Pink-Orb took from the dead
coelashark."
       "With dire results for Pink-Orb," Cinnamon added wryly.
       "Oh, now, wait you there," cautioned Deirdre. "They've known for long
that the vermicysts are not good for them -- remember?"
       Cinnamon nodded. "That's right, Pink-Orb said it couldn't resist eating
the one, although it was so ... rich," she recalled. "But what I'm really
curious about, is its presence in the coelashark. The flouwen watched a
_mature_ coelashark walk deliberately toward the geyser." Her emphasis on the
word made the others think.
       "And the icerug said the mature ones were the ones infected with
cysts," said Katrina thoughtfully.
       "Hmm," mused Deirdre. "So small a scrap of life. But it might -- just
possibly -- have real power."
       "What?" Katrina looked up quickly. "What power are you talking about?"
       "The vermicyst came from the swollen cheek of a coelashark that had
very likely committed suicide by letting itself be drawn into the geyser. The
vermicyst had a lifeform within, which survived a fall which killed the
coelashark outright. Protected by the cyst and the coelashark's body, that
lifeform did not immediately freeze to death in the cold air out on the
surface. It was quickly found by an icerug, prized loose because of its
exquisite flavor, and immediately swallowed, but not chewed, thus quickly
finding its way into the warm body of an icerug -- perhaps to be digested --
perhaps not. Next, Richard reports that those icerugs that swallow vermicysts
have a tendency to diarrhea. And now this small specimen was found --
according to Little White -- near the waste vent of an icerug, a vent showing
unusual activity. How now if this worm were a deadly parasite which infected a
coelashark, drove it to suicide, enticed an icerug to consume it, and then
forced the icerug to discharge it through its waste vent -- unharmed -- so it
could infect another coelashark?"
       This was an unusually long speech for Deirdre, but its import was what
startled the others.
       There was silence.
       "I don't know," said Katrina firmly, "But I feel the icerugs should be
informed. Perhaps, if they don't eat any more of them, the infection cycle
will be interrupted. George says there's the equivalent of a Surgeon General
in the city, the Convener of the Center for Medical Studies. The Medical
Convener, at least, should be told about all this."
       "Truly I disagree," said Deirdre. "It's interfering, again!"
       "But only with a small bit of information about their own world," said
Cinnamon reasonably. "And you're not ordering, or insisting -- you're just
passing along an observation we've made, of a connection between coelashark
deaths and icerug illness. And, tell you what, Deirdre," she added suddenly,
"_You_ be the one to tell the icerugs! That way, you can word it as carefully
as you like!"
       Deirdre considered. She had never tried to be an ambassador, having
little respect for those who manipulated people with words. But she cared
intensely about learning all she could of this strange world, and surely,
talking with the Convener of the Medical Center might reveal facts which the




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aliens took for granted. And, besides, this mission certainly was better
entrusted to someone as reticent as herself, rather than a well-meaning,
kindhearted Katrina. She stood up, and started for the passway leading up to
the control center on the flight deck of _Victoria_.
       "A word with George, first," she said. "And if he agrees with us, it's
me off to have a word with the Doctor. But just a wee one, mind you!"
       George concurred with the biologists's decision, and on their next
visit to Windward City Deirdre marched briskly between the icerugs, following
George's directions to find the Convener of the Center of Medical Studies. She
deviated from the path only long enough to take another quick look at the
imposing ice-organ, silent now in the large anteroom. The pipes looked
strange, hanging down from the wall with their bottoms open to the air, with
no wind chest or complicated air valves and sliding stop arrangements
underneath. All of that apparatus on a key organ was replaced by a single
icerug body that "blew" air with its body into each organ pipe when and as
required. The thought of how quickly these alien intelligences had grasped
David's crude model and extrapolated this sophisticated wonder impressed upon
Deirdre, yet again, the necessity of dealing with the highly intelligent
icerugs with great care.
       Accordingly, when she found the Convener at the Center for Medical
Studies, she proceeded slowly, talking in general terms of admiration while
she looked the creature over thoroughly. The node of this icerug was of
substantial size, and the orb of its large eye was of a cool green which
struck both human and alien as familiar. It was a shock to Deirdre to see an
eye so similar to her own in color, but she rallied quickly, noting with
scientific detachment that the icerug's illuminating region glinted softly on
the short, flared cloak it wore, of an almost copper hue that hung down over
the ultramarine pedestal. As the formal greetings continued, Deirdre stared
thoughtfully upward into Green-Eye's countenance and decided to approach her
subject with a question.
       "As you and your fellows are aware of the mishaps which can occur after
ingesting the chance-found vermicysts, why is it that the practice persists?"
       "Severe diarrhea, you mean," said the Convener matter-of-factly. "Yes,
that is the customary result. It can be extremely debilitating, particularly
in older members of society, and can lead to complications, although these are
fortunately rare. But to return to your question; it is impossible to describe
the flavor of something to one who has never partaken of it, but I can assure
you that once tried, it is irresistible indeed. In fact, the curious part of
the experience is that ordinarily, one cyst is sufficient; few feel compelled
to eat both of the delicious objects."
       "The observations of our friends the flouwen lead us to believe that
there might be a connection between the apparently suicidal behavior of the
coelasharks and those same wee worms which arrive, alive, here on the
surface," said Deirdre carefully. "It might possibly be a wise precaution to
refrain from consuming the morsels altogether, until such time as more is
known."
       "That is a logical suggestion, especially since the effects of eating a
vermicyst are often unpleasant -- and one I have considered recommending
myself," responded Green-Eye. "However, it is difficult for me to urge
abstinence upon my patients when I cannot practice it myself."
       Deirdre wondered, briefly, if the vermicysts were addictive, in the
earthly sense of the word, but further talk revealed that no icerug
deliberately set out to find a vermicyst; it was simply welcomed as a rare
treat.
       "I suppose, over time, the vermicyst has gradually acquired and
perfected its unique flavor," she speculated aloud. "As part of its own
evolution." There was no immediate reply after the suit imp had translated the
last word using its glassy-foil speaker and Deirdre looked up, surprised at
the lack of response.
       "The translation your talking machine used for that last word was a




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short phrase that is completely meaningless to me," said the tall icerug. "The
phrase was 'favorable modifications occurring during successive
reproductions'. Each of those words means something to me, but the phrase as a
whole is meaningless. What is ... evolution?" The human word sounded ominous
when spoken in an icerug's deep tones.
       Alarms went off in Deirdre's racing mind. Had she blundered into a
taboo subject? Warily, she chose her words. "Evolution, to the scientists of
our world, is a theory that the changes which occur from generation to
generation in a species are due to modifications which are favorable to
reproduction of that species." She felt a trifle helpless, hoping that
Josephine's translation would not be taken ill. Instead, the alien seemed
still unsure of what she had said.
       "Theories, of course, we use," said Green-Eye. "They follow hypothesis
and experimentation. And modifications are performed every time one improves a
tool or artifact. But -- generation? And, the meaning of the translation given
to the word reproduction does not seem to imply the making of an object
identical to another, but instead the formation of a copy of an object by the
original object itself. Can you elucidate further?"
       Still feeling her way cautiously, Deirdre decided to begin with
simplistic, general life-forms, and avoid the dangers possibly inherent in
discussing the icerugs's own sex-life. Accordingly, she began with the lowest
form of Zulu life she could recall that could be seen under an icerug optical
microscope. It was a single-celled algae which lived in the ice near the
shores of the warm lake where the ice was not as cold as it was elsewhere on
the moon. When present in sufficient numbers, it colored the ice blue-green.
She was heartened when the quick intelligence before her seemed to understand.
       "We have occasionally observed such things." The icerug's description
indeed seemed to be the same and Deirdre proceeded confidently.
       "Now, when this wee creature is mature, and is ready to create replicas
of itself..."
       "How can it do such a thing? Why should it?" In apparently genuine
bafflement, the icerug began to ask questions so basic that Deirdre
floundered, and stopped to reflect. A few more questions brought forth the
information that all observations of the algae had been on frozen specimens,
brought in from the dangerous ice shelves to the safety of the icerug
laboratories, which, of course, were kept at below freezing temperatures to
keep the ice lenses in the microscopes from melting. The reason for examining
the algae had primarily been to determine why the ice turned green, and once
that had been determined, no attempt had been made to culture the tiny
lifeforms, so the icerugs had never seen them replicate.
       Deirdre now wished, rather desperately, that she hadn't brought the
matter of evolution and reproduction up, but she was too honest to try to
avoid an explanation. Slowly, she explained the essential processes of
procreation, and the amazed icerug learned for the first time of life's varied
methods of reproduction. Deirdre started with the budding of simple cells, and
progressed in as orderly a manner as she could through the complications of
evolution, describing the value of sex and its mixing of genes. Frequently,
she was forced to back-track, to explain terms to the alien; "cloning"
presented little difficulty, but "buds" and "shoots" and differing "sexes"
did, and she was limp after an hour's talk.
       Fortunately, the icerug's native intelligence far surpassed hers, and
it was able to absorb data and arrive at its own conclusions instantaneously.
Deirdre was immensely relieved to see that nothing of what she had said
appeared to disturb Green-Eye's sensibilities; the alien was simply curious
and interested. She decided to explore, tentatively.
       "Would you be willing to tell me, Green-Eye, if one of the processes we
have been discussing is the manner in which young icerugs come to exist? I
have not observed differing sexes among you, but I am ignorant of your world,
and wish only to learn more. Please tell me if that is a question I may not
ask."




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       "Why not?" was the calm reply. "No, all you have said is most
interesting, but we icerugs do not utilize any such means of ... reproducing
... ourselves that you have mentioned." The new word was used with a note of
satisfaction. "Young icerugs come to us from the far plains of ice outside our
nation. A few of them are unacceptable to us and are consumed, but when one is
pleasing to one of us, the rest have no difficulty in accommodating to its
presence, and it is welcomed and raised among us."
       "And, the ones consumed, they resemble normal icerugs in all respects
save taste?" Deirdre had observed cannibalism in far too many species to be
upset by it, and it seemed unimportant to this alien.
       "Yes. I have not actually seen any younglings myself, as I left my
outer association for higher studies at an early age and have been here ever
since. I and my fellows at the Center for Medical Studies have long since
settled into our roots here. The discovery of younglings, far out on the
plains, is reported through the fine network of conveners on the periphery of
our nation."
       A thought struck Deirdre: "And do those out on the periphery of the
nation come across other animals or plants or living beings?" The startling
reply was quick and firm:
       "No. There are many different plants and animals in the ocean, but
there are no other living creatures on the ice except coverers-of-the-ice."
       This was something which Deirdre had to pause to think about. Certainly
the humans had seen no other plants or animals, no birds, insects, even
grasses or mosses. The icerugs had been given no opportunity to observe
reproduction and evolution -- except, of course, among themselves. Although
there was a great variety of life around the volcanic vents beneath the sea
and under the ice near the icerug waste vents, as related by the flouwen,
there were obviously beyond the ken of these terrestrial creatures, who only
saw dead and rapidly freezing specimens of animals and plants thrown out by
the geyser. Even their imaginations would be limited, having never seen
another form of active life but themselves.
       Staring up into the green orb, so disconcertingly like her own, Deirdre
finally dared to ask the basic question:
       "Can you speak, then, of how and where the young icerugs come from?"
She held her breath, and then listened with growing dismay, as the alien spoke
in its usual calm rumble.
       "Careful and lengthy observation of the known facts has preceded the
general acceptance of the Theory of Void-Filling Spontaneous Creation for the
appearance of younglings. Never, in all our long history, has a single
youngling appeared within the city. Never, in all our long history, has a
single youngling appeared even far out in the country where the ice is covered
with the bodies of those that collect sunlight to produce flesh. They appear,
if ever, _only_ in the distant ice plains, where no coverers-of-the-ice live,
and where there is a total void of life. From careful experimentation in our
laboratories at the Center for Scientific Studies, using pumps to evacuate
thick-walled containers, we observe that, when a void exists, something rushes
in to fill it. Complete emptiness is unnatural. Nature abhors such voids.
Therefore, on those empty ice plains, nature spontaneously erupts,
occasionally, and creates a new coverer-of-the-ice, a youngling. Unlike the
eruptions of our geyser, we have so far not been able to predict such events
accurately, but there is no doubt they occur, because the younglings appear."
       "Codswallop!" thought Deirdre. But she knew there was a time when
spontaneous generation had been a widely accepted theory on earth, and spoke
gently. "And has no one ventured forth upon those ice plains to see, to
explore any other possibility of creation? Perhaps a bit of budding, from some
traveling icerug?"
       "No. There is no need for such a futile journey to be made, when the
reports of our distant leaders and conveners are so accurate, and also so
similar to each other. From what you have said, other, lower, creatures might
come to exist by different methods -- such as this sex method you spoke of.




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But for icerugs ... I am sure our Theory of Spontaneous Generation is correct
in every respect. It has been held by my teachers before me, and never once
failed."
       To Deirdre, listening intently, there was just a hint of self-doubt in
the final words, but she dismissed the thought. She knew that the icerugs must
reproduce in some more prosaic manner, but without any genuine information on
the subject, it was better dropped. However, Green-Eye had apparently absorbed
Deirdre's explanations of reproduction and successive generations so rapidly
that now the alien had thought of more questions to ask. In particular, it was
curious about the flouwen, and Deirdre carefully explained, as vividly as she
could, the swirling dance of amalgamation between three or more individual
flouwen which resulted in a young flouwen -- a combination of budding and
sexual union. Even as she was speaking, she was struck by the incredible
differences between flouwen and icerugs; yet, according to the similarities of
the genetic patterns on their cells that Katrina had obtained, they were, in
some manner, related. She puzzled over that, deep in thought, as she walked
back and met the _Dragonfly_ again.
       Thankfully climbing out of her exploration suit, she immediately went
to find Cinnamon and Katrina, to relate the whole of her interview, with all
the questions it had created. As she spoke, the eyes of the other two widened,
but she hurried on.
       "So then, when it was asking about why it was better to have a wide
choice of genes, and I was telling about survival of the fittest..."
       "Deirdre!" gasped Cinnamon. "_You_ told it all that? All that totally
new, foreign, unexpected information?"
       "What were you thinking of?" cried Katrina. Deirdre was thunderstruck,
and collapsed onto the sofa.
       "I can't believe, now, it was me doing all that talking. Me,
interfering, pouring out, unasked -- not that any of it was untrue, mind! but
no, I should never..." she gulped, genuinely distressed.
       "Ah, well," sighed Cinnamon. "You didn't actually tell it that it's
theory was rubbish, did you? And, maybe, now that it has heard a few facts, it
will start to find out the truth on its own."
       "I cannot know whether to hope that happens or not," said Deirdre
miserably. "It was unforgivable -- but it was wonderful interesting!" She
brightened, unable to refrain from sharing with the other biologists the
strange facts she had learned. Together they speculated on the truth of what
it was that happened out on those empty plains of ice that produced young
icerugs, but they could only wonder.
--------
         *CHAPTER 11 -- CIRCUMNAVIGATING*
       "We've been here at the inner pole for a month," announced George one
day at dinner. "A month of Earth days and fifty Zulu days. It's time we looked
at some of the rest of this world."
       "But there's still so much to learn here," protested Katrina. "I have
an appointment to visit Smooth-Brown's classes tomorrow to be the
show-and-tell object while it teaches the young icerugs about humans. I hope
at the same time to learn more about how they teach their young."
       "We're going to have to leave _some_ things for the follow-on missions
to do," answered George. "After all, our job is to explore and find, not stay
and investigate. We've still got more moons around Gargantua to visit -- Zuni
in particular. But right now I want to visit more than just one icerug city.
Besides, you can still keep your appointment -- you're scheduled to be one of
the four on _Victoria_, while the rest of us go off in _Dragonfly_." He turned
to look at Shirley. "I'd like to leave tomorrow if possible. What needs to be
done to make the _Dragonfly_ ready for a three-week journey away from
_Victoria_?"
       "It already carries enough frozen food for ninety days, but that's for
the six humans," replied Shirley. "We'll need to stow aboard food for the
flouwen, check out the plumbing arrangements that allow the airlock to be




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turned into a temporary flouwen habitat, and load up some consumables tanks
with ammonia water. But, that shouldn't take more than a day. Give me a work
crew of four and I'll have it done in half a day." She looked around for
volunteers, but everyone seemed to be avoiding her eyes.
       "Arielle and Deirdre should be starting their sleep shifts so they will
be fresh when we take off," said George. "Richard, Cinnamon, and I are
assigned to the _Dragonfly_, so we are obvious candidates for the work crew."
He looked around the lounge and Sam raised his hand.
       "The rocks and ice around here can wait another day."
       "Let's get going, then," said Shirley, handing her tray to the galley
imp and starting down the passway to the engineering deck below. She stopped
to look back at George. "I may need you to move the _Dragonfly_ a little
closer to _Victoria_. The transfer hose for the ammonia water may be too
short."
       It was only ten hours later when the various tasks had been
accomplished, and _Dragonfly_ was ready to go as a fully self-supporting
vehicle. The exploration crew which was to go off on the long journey in the
airplane -- George, Arielle, Cinnamon, Richard, Deirdre, Shirley, and the
three flouwen -- were all on board. The humans had switched to a rotating
shift schedule so that _Dragonfly_ was operational around the clock. Shirley
and Cinnamon were now on sleep shift, while George and Arielle flew the plane,
and Richard and Deirdre operated the science and engineering consoles.
       "I want to visit one of the other icerug communities around the inner
pole," said George. "Since we can't visit them all, we should make our choice
carefully."
       "Here is the population density map of the inner pole region," said
Deirdre, bringing the map up on her console touch-screen. George copied her
screen onto his co-pilot console. Deirdre touched various spots on the screen
as she continued talking, and as she did so, a green splotch showed up there
on George's screen.
       "There's Manannan Geyser Lake next to Windward City," Deirdre started,
"Where we are now. It lies between the inner pole and the leading pole.
Manannan is the biggest geyser, but Sam and Richard are sure that has nothing
to do with its position. There are eight other active geysers, each about the
same distance from the inner pole as Manannan."
       "That's because the tidal strains on the crust are a maximum at that
distance from the inner pole," interjected Richard.
       Deirdre touched an icon on the perimeter of the touch-screen to
increase the color intensity, and the blue-green colors of icerug bodies
leaped into prominence. "Around each geyser is an icerug city, while between
the cities lies empty ice." She pointed to a lake where the hues of the
surrounding icerug bodies seemed dim.
       "There used to be a tenth geyser, now inactive, although pictures taken
during the passage of the flyby probe fifty-five years ago show that it was
quite active in the past. Cinnamon, Katrina, and I felt it's that city we're
wanting to visit. There seems to be falling off in both numbers and color
strength. And, there's signs that the size of the community has gone down
while others around it are still thriving. We suspect it may be because the
geyser has died away. The icerugs there seem to be trying to compensate by
spreading out thin, to increase their photosynthesis intake, but they may need
whatever it is the geyser gives them to prosper."
       "Sounds like a good choice," said George, looking at the map. "At least
it will be different from Windward City."
       Arielle copied the map onto her screen, looked at it with a practiced
eye and grunted. "Be there in hour."
       Since the first stop was only an hour away, the flouwen, resting
quietly in the airlock, stayed in the drysuits which they had donned to make
the transfer from _Victoria_.
       *Boring!* complained Little Red as he looked through the porthole in
the inside airlock door at the interior of the _Dragonfly_. The red flouwen




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was getting quite expert at interpreting the visual images that were focused
onto his red flesh behind the large lenses built into his helmet, but he could
see little through the small porthole window except the suit lockers on the
other side of the engineering section. Occasionally, the Christmas Branch
would pass by, its colorful laser diodes sparkling brightly, busy on one task
or another. He watched as the computer motile put some human clothing into a
hole in the wall and shut the little round door. Little Red wondered idly if
that was a hole to dispose of waste, like the hole that James and Josephine
had taught the flouwen to use in their habitat tanks on board _Prometheus_ and
_Victoria_. Little Red then felt a sinking and rocking motion, similar to what
he would feel when a large wave went overhead in his home ocean.
       ^We are lifting off,^ said Little White, looking through the porthole
in the outside airlock door.
       *Feels good!* exclaimed Little Red with satisfaction, as he adjusted
easily to the rhythm.
       They soon arrived at the city immediately north of Windward City, with
its nearby geyser lake quiescent and choked with ice floes.
       "Land us on the ice shelf near the center of the city, Arielle," said
George.
       "No danger of wings icing up this time," she replied, banking the
_Dragonfly_ in a large circle. Shirley and Cinnamon were still sleeping
soundly, although Shirley -- ever sensitive to the sounds of the machine she
had helped design -- shifted uneasily in her sleep as the flying hiss of the
_Dragonfly_ changed to a hovering hum, and then finally to the quieter noise
of a plane sitting on the ground, engines running.
       After Arielle had landed, she stayed at the controls while Richard,
George, and Deirdre helped the flouwen out of the airlock and into the lake,
their communicator _Babble_ paddling along behind them.
       "The major things you three are to look for are _differences_," George
reminded the flouwen through the radio-sonar communication link that _Babble_
supplied. The flouwen had illuminated the ocean below them with sound as they
had entered the water, and the sonar returns were starting to come back in.
       *Nothing _but_ differences!* remarked Little Red.
       #No motion ... anywhere!# added Little Purple.
       ^There seems to be no life forms of any kind anywhere nearby,^ reported
Little White in more informative detail. ^Any motion of any animal, or even
moving seaweed fronds, would be easily seen by us because of its doppler
shift. Everything has been eaten.^ The translation stopped, and Joe's voice
came over the imp link.
       "The words Little White used were; 'Everything has been eaten.' But
since there is no word for death in the flouwen language, I presume from the
context they should be translated 'Everything is dead'." George, aware that
the nearly indestructible bodies of the flouwen were essentially immortal, so
they had no concept of death, once again was forced to face his own mortality.
       ^There is nothing here,^ said Little White. ^We will go elsewhere.^
       *Something move! Far off! I go see!* said Little Red.
       #I go see too!# called Little Purple.
       "Be back in five hours!" George called through his imp, the paddle
treads on either side of _Babble_ moving into high gear as the communications
amphibian attempted to keep up with the flouwen, now swimming at high speed.
       The three humans headed inland toward the center of the city. For
safety reasons, and to supply a high quality radio relay link for _Babble_ and
the suited humans outside, Arielle took _Dragonfly_ aloft and hovered over the
city on the VTOL fans.
       As the humans looked around at the city center, they could see several
ornate above-ground structures which indicated some important buildings were
below under the ice, but many of the structures seemed to be in disrepair.
Between them and the lake front were a number of icerug bodies of various
colors of pale blue-green. As the humans approached the icerugs, their suit
imps climbed out, each holding a circular piece of glassy-foil to produce the




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low bass notes of the icerug language. An ornately dressed icerug node with a
distinctly oval eye moved forward across its malachite-colored carpet to greet
them. As the node grew closer, Deirdre could see that its cape, although
elaborate, was torn and shabby. The icerug looked carefully at each of them in
turn, its oval eyeball rotating as it did so.
       "Welcome, wonderful beings that fly from star to star, and world to
world, and moon to moon, on beams of light. I am Oval-Eye, Prime Speaker of
Northward City, and I welcome you to our proud but deeply distressed
community. We have heard much about you and your machines through our slender
talker who connects to the slender talker of Windward City. When I heard and
saw your flying machine approach our city, I summoned all the available
Speakers, so that they can meet with you and carry the news of our discussions
to all in our nation."
       The Prime Speaker and other members of the greeting party moved
together toward the cluster of buildings and started underground, George
checking the status of the commsat links as they moved under the ice. Soon
they came to the Northward City equivalent of the great meeting hall. There
were a number of icerugs there, but nowhere near as many as attended the
meetings in Windward City. Their finery too was sparse and worn-looking. After
introducing the humans to the assembled Speakers, the Prime Speaker questioned
the visitors.
       "Some say you must have magic, to be able to fly through the air and
between worlds. Have you magic enough to wake our god, Panapan? The great
geyser has been asleep for far too long. Our city is suffering greatly."
George glanced quickly at Richard, who shook his head fractionally and added a
comment through their private imp link.
       "Once a geyser like this gets clogged up and quits, not even a nuclear
bomb will get it going again in the same place. At best it would resurface
kilometers away -- which wouldn't help this city much. I'm afraid they're
doomed."
       "We have no magic," replied George to Oval-Eye through the translator
imp. "We do know how to build machines to travel through air and space, but
they are not magic. Some day you will be able to build similar machines, I am
sure. I am afraid, however, there is nothing we can do to help you reawaken
your geyser."
       "Is it vital to you, then?" asked Deirdre, trying to think of a way
around the icerug's plight. "You use the good of the sunlight, that we know;
surely you can make new flesh thereby."
       "Those coverers-of-the-ice which are on the outskirts of the city do
just that," conceded a nearby icerug, who coloring was almost as pale as
slate. It had been introduced as Pale-Gray, the Speaker of the Medical Guild,
and the light gray eye which gave it its name regarded them steadily.
       "They try very hard to keep us here in the center of the city fed with
shipments of new flesh, but it is not sufficient. And a peculiar fact is that
the flesh they send is increasingly poor in quality. It lacks flavor, and is
singularly unsatisfying."
       "Sounds like a mineral deficiency," said Deirdre quietly over their imp
link. "A fruit tree, on earth, can seem to do well, given sunshine and water.
But if the soil is lacking certain minerals, it's fruit is so poor as to be
worthless. The geyser, bringing up all the richness of the sea, must provide
these creatures with vital elements."
       She then turned to address the Prime Speaker. "And how are the
youngling icerugs faring under these conditions?"
       The Prime Speaker paused, "We in the center of the city do not ever see
youngling, they only appear at the outskirts of the city." Its oval eye
rotated as it looked away from the humans to address the assembled Speakers.
       "What news have any of you from your local group Pedestalers about
newfound younglings? Are they suffering from the poor quality food also?"
       After lengthy discussions it was learned that no new younglings had
been found out on the ice for many cycles -- since shortly after the geyser




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had died. This news was of some surprise to the assembled Speakers -- who were
far distant both physically and organizationally from the icerugs out on the
frontiers -- but then, they were normally concerned with more important
matters.
       The news didn't surprise Deirdre. Although she didn't yet know how
icerugs reproduced, it was understandable that poorly fed icerugs would have
difficulty producing viable children. She did wonder, however, why the news
was of so little interest to the council. A near zero birth rate would be of
great concern to any Earth government.
       It now struck the humans that the hall was unusually dimly lit,
although all of the icerugs were using their lights. The walls of the building
were as richly carved as those of Windward City. At the extreme temperatures
they stood in, there was little change to be effected by lack of attention.
But the floor, which in the other nation was kept polished to a highly
reflective surface, was here uneven and dull; these icerugs apparently had
lost quite a bit of their customary energy, and they simply laid their trails
as they needed them, without smoothing the surface as they picked them up
again. The gloom of the building was reflected in the gloom of the reports
from the various Speakers. Icerugs in the inner city were, for the first time
in their experience, feeling the effects of cold. Their energy was
increasingly devoted to keeping from freezing.
       "My Crafts Guild members and I have no strength to manufacture goods to
sell," said a tall icerug the color of sea water on a cloudy day. "This means
we have nothing to trade for flesh from the country. We are gradually
diminishing and there is nothing we can do to stop it. We must _do_
something!" There was an instant chorus of assent, which was a shock to the
humans. In the comfortable debates they had witnessed before, no two icerugs
ever spoke at once or raised their voices.
       "And we know what we must do, don't we," growled a very old-looking
icerug. "It has been done before, when circumstances were desperate. And
they're desperate now. Desperate enough for war!"
       The Prime Speaker spoke more calmly. "None of us -- even you -- Elder
Green-Orb, can recall war. What I have read of it tells me that there are
tremendous losses on both sides of a war. Even if we won, many of us would
die."
       "What difference if we die in battle or of slow starvation?" asked the
tall sea-colored Speaker of the Crafts Guild. "My neighbors on both sides have
died already. They were older than I, but certainly not ill. Their tunnels and
workshops are there for the taking, but none of us have any use for them. We
are shrinking steadily, while those well-fed creatures in Windward City are
growing larger every day. They _must_ send us their surplus -- they have flesh
and coelashark meat to spare!"
       "If they refuse to feed us their excess, we'll make a feast of the
loathsome beasts themselves," muttered the Elder. "I'd enjoy nothing more than
twisting the eye off their Presider myself and eating it, before starting in
on the rest, dead or alive." The humans listened with growing dismay as the
rest of the reports continued, with no word of improvement or hope. Each
successive Speaker, indeed, ended its report with some mention of a bitter
determination to wrest supplies from the wealthier city. Suddenly Green-Orb,
who had been watching the humans steadily, interrupted the complaints with a
question.
       "How valuable are you, travelers, to the icerugs of Windward City?
Perhaps we could trade your ... safety, for an ample supply of coelashark
meat." The prospect of being held hostage stunned George, and Richard tensed
himself warily.
       Deirdre had not lost her detachment, however, and said coldly, "We have
no value to either you nor any other icerug. Our species of being is so alien
to yours, we are worthless, as you are to us." Inside her helmet, Foxx sat
stiffly erect, and reacting to the tension she felt in her mistress, her
sibilant hiss curled around and through the woman's words. The Prime Speaker




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intervened with calming words, and began what gave the promise of being a more
traditional, lengthy icerug speech, full of vague generalities. No one glanced
at the humans as they slowly moved towards the entrance, and the speech was
still going on when they left. Deirdre, always sensitive to mood, felt
uneasily that the speech would come to an abrupt end as soon as the humans
were out of hearing; if indeed violence was to be considered, and she was very
much afraid it was, the icerugs would not want these alien humans to hear
anything of their plans. The snow crunching beneath their boots was the only
sound as the crew walked through the dwindling city past triangular living
areas only half-filled with pale icerug flesh, and between deserted buildings
and tunnel entrances without life or activity visible.
       George, Deirdre, and Richard climbed back into the airlock on
_Dragonfly_ and stayed there while Arielle made the short trip across the lake
to where they had put the flouwen in the water. Cinnamon's voice spoke through
their imps. "Joe has collected some preliminary reports from the flouwen
through the comm link. And they're not cheerful ones. Let me play back some of
them for you." The crew listened to the grim account.
       ^All volcanic vents quiet. No living things left but coelasharks.^ That
was Little White's steady voice.
       *But coelasharks doing fine!* enthused Little Red. *They _huge_!*
       Little White continued with its report. ^No hot water from vents to
keep coelasharks away. They eat everything around vent. Nothing left but
rocks, and big coelasharks chew them too, looking for food inside.^
       It was soon obvious that the cessation of hot water activity from the
volcanic vents had exposed all the vulnerable plants and small animals to the
full fury of the coelasharks, who had left nothing uneaten. The surviving
coelasharks were now hungry, battle-scarred, and larger and meaner than ever.
       #Here come two coelasharks, yelling,# came a later report from Little
Purple. #Talking@Sticks listen for you. I tell what they do.# The imp on
Little Purple's suit passed on the underwater sounds and Little Purple's
narration. The listening humans could then picture the events which followed,
both by the flouwen's brief words and the coelashark's screams. The two
coelasharks under observation by the flouwen were desperately hungry, and
feinted at each other with their sharp-pointed rocks.
       "Great bag of guts, I'll poke out your _other_ eye!"
       "Not while I've got teeth left to tear you apart, you cringing coward!"
       Human eyes might have missed the rapid motions, but the flouwen's sonar
sensed the sudden closing with great precision.
       #One lost most of tail. Stuff coming out of hole in other one's belly.#
       Little Purple was interrupted by a shout from Little Red. *Here comes
trouble!*
       The humans heard great screams of rage and pain, and Little Purple
described, with commendable detachment, several more of the veteran
coelasharks who had kept this skirmish under careful scrutiny and now saw
their chance. With brute savagery they ripped and tore the flesh of the two
wounded battlers. In seconds, the last scrap of their bodies had been gulped
down, and the number of surviving coelasharks was reduced by two.
       #Soon only one coelashark be left. Then what?#
       "You'd better come back now," Cinnamon called to them. "We're coming to
pick you up."
          ****
By the time the _Dragonfly_ landed, the flouwen were already waiting for them,
while _Babble_ could be seen making its way back over the surface of the
water, its progress hindered by the ice floes choking the slowly cooling lake.
       As Cinnamon and Deirdre helped the flouwen out of the water and into
the airlock, they asked the flouwen further questions.
       "Were there any coelashark young?" asked Deirdre.
       *No!* replied Little Red with certainty. *All eaten!*
       "Were there any signs of mating behavior?" asked Cinnamon. "Sometimes
desperate circumstances trigger sexual activity."




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       ^No unusual activity,^ replied Little White.
       #Only activity of coelashark seems to be eating,# added Little Purple.
#Everything. Especially each other.#
       "I cannot see the sense in it," declared Deirdre.
       "Evolutionary sense, you mean," agreed Cinnamon. "These creatures just
get older and larger, eating each other up. No breeding, no young. It's a dead
end for them."
       "And they don't think of leaving," wondered Deirdre. "Nor trying to
swim away to a better spot."
       "From what the flouwen said earlier," remembered Cinnamon. "They have
just enough intelligence to have a language, but not enough to put it to any
good use. Maybe it's time they became extinct."
       "Seems a bit hard -- not that I'm caring, of course," Deirdre added
quickly. "Only, they're still floppin' out on the ice and dying over at
Windward City. And that seems pointless too." They were glad to abandon the
topic while they helped the clumsy flouwen into the airlock, then passed
through themselves, leaving the airlock to the flouwen to use as their habitat
tank.
       "That was a depressing visit," said Richard as he removed his suit. "I
wish we could do something for those people; they are really suffering."
       "It's not people they are, it's icerugs, I'll be reminding you," said
Deirdre firmly. "And how is it you know that they are suffering? Plants, which
is, scientifically speaking, what they are, cannot register pain."
       Once George was free of his helmet, he used his imp to talk to Arielle
up in the cockpit.
       "Since we're already on the north side of the inward pole, Arielle,
let's head for the north pole."
       "North pole next stop," replied Arielle, and the _Dragonfly_ lifted
into the air on its VTOL fans and soon the sounds coming through the hull
changed from a feathery hum to a high-pitched whistle as the nuclear jet cut
in.
       George came forward to talk with Arielle and Shirley. Shirley was at
the science console, setting up a mapping program for the science imaging
instruments on the scan platforms looking out of the bulbous side windows on
the airplane.
       "From what Joe can make out from the maps taken from orbit, there is
nothing between here and the north pole but ice," said Shirley without looking
up. She punched some little used icons around the side of the touch-screen.
"But now that we know what the life-forms look like, I'll insert some
'interest operators' into the monitor program to look for 'interesting' groups
of pixels."
       "Good idea," said George. "You never know. There might be the warm
water equivalent of an oasis somewhere out on this desert of snow." Swiveling
past Shirley's chair, he came up to the flight deck and slid into the co-pilot
seat. Automatically, as soon as he touched the seat, his pilot's training made
him scan the skies thoroughly all around.
       "What's the ETA?" he asked.
       "Since less than four thousand kilometers, we be able to do it in four
hours," replied Arielle. "But I flying low and slow. We not be back this way
again, so I optimize cruise for best mapping data, not best speed. Eclipse
coming up soon, too. I'll put us in circle for those ninety minutes so we
don't have gap in the map." She touched her screen, and a copy of her flight
plan appeared on George's console. "We get to north pole in about twelve hours
unless we hit weather."
       "How does the weather look, Joe?" George asked his imp.
       "Clear for the next eighteen hours," came the reply.
       "Then, if it's OK with you, Arielle, I'll hit the sack and take over
when I wake up," said George.
       "Fine," replied Arielle with a cheerful smile. "Not tired. Most of the
time above Northward City, I put Joe on autopilot and watched old movies."




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       "And ate!" snorted Shirley. "If I ate _that_ much I wouldn't even fit
in a flouwen drysuit, much less my regular one."
       "Speaking of flouwen suits," said George. "If it's going to be that
long before we need the airlock again, perhaps we could let them out of their
suits." He turned to his imp. "Cinnamon? Could you please set up the habitat
for the flouwen?"
       "Sure, George," came the reply. "I'm sure they'll appreciate the
freedom."
       "I'll be getting some of their food to put in the airlock," said
Deirdre from inside the privacy curtains. "Richard is hogging the shower
again."
       "Good thing Joe has plenty of heat from the nuclear reactor for making
hot water," muttered George, feeling the itchy places on his skin underneath
the creases of his underalls. It would feel good to squirt them hard with the
shower's fine spray.
       Deirdre went forward and opened a freezer compartment in the food
locker opposite the galley. She picked out three bags. One contained long
green-blue fronds, another lumps of orange-colored jelly-like flesh, and the
third what looked like large dark purple slugs.
       "Fine variety," she decided, after looking at the labels. "Slender
grass for salad, filet of rogue for the main course, and creepy stinks for
dessert." She took them back and opened the inner airlock door. The strong
odor of ammonia was in the air despite Joe's efforts to keep the air in the
airlock fresh.
       *I come in and help fly airplane!* announced Little Red, trying to push
his way into the main cabin.
       "Later. It's time for your swim now!" announced Cinnamon brightly,
trying to block the way of the large drysuited alien.
       "A swim and lunch!" added Deirdre, adding her pushes to that of
Cinnamon, while holding up the food bags. Distracted by the sight of the food,
Little Red allowed himself to be pushed back into the airlock, and the two
women shut the door and locked it.
       "Start habitat cycle, Joe," said Cinnamon through her imp.
       Joe, having used its Christmas Branch earlier to make the necessary
changes in its plumbing and valve connections, emptied the air out of the
airlock, being careful to save the oxygen and ammonia, while dumping the
nitrogen and carbon dioxide outside. Simultaneously, it pumped in icy ammonia
water from the consumables tanks that normally held air for use by the crew on
airless planets. The minute the water started to flow, the flouwen unzipped
their drysuits, flowed out of them onto the floor, and began to play in the
jet, while the suit imps hauled the drysuits up into nets hanging from the
ceiling. Joe also signaled the flouwen that the drain connection had been
opened, and the flouwen took advantage of the opportunity to empty their waste
vacuoles before starting their meal.
       *Creepy@Stink too hard!* complained Little Red.
       ^You must be more patient, subset of Roaring*Hot*Vermillion,^ chastised
Little White. ^Let it thaw first. Here, have some Thin@Grass to eat while you
wait.^
       #K-k-k-k-eeeeeee-k-k-k,# said Little Purple, ignoring the food for now,
while enjoying the cooling freshness of the jet.
       Their antics were watched by Cinnamon and Deirdre peeking through the
airlock window.
       "Little Purple likes showers as much as Richard does," said Deirdre.
She heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, and moved quickly through
the privacy curtain and into the bathroom, catching a glimpse of a hairy leg
with four toes just disappearing into a commodious upper bunk as she did so.
The bunks on _Dragonfly_ were big enough to sit up and get dressed in, which
made life easier for all concerned, since the main corridor between the
engineering section in the back and the science section near the front went
right through the crew quarters and there was lots of traffic back and forth




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through the privacy curtains.
       As the _Dragonfly_ flew north, Barnard rose early and traveled through
the sky to Gargantua, which had moved from its spot overhead toward the
southern horizon. Barnard then disappeared behind Gargantua in its normal
noonday eclipse. When the eclipse darkness arrived, Arielle put the plane into
a wide circular holding pattern, and let Joe hold it there while she got a
quick snack and took a one-hour nap. Shirley activated the infrared imagers in
the two science scan platforms that looked out the bulbous "eye" ports on
either side of the nose, but found no hot spots in the darkness that might
indicate an oasis in the lifeless ice below.
       After the eclipse, Arielle resumed their northward course, and the
daylight, instead of ending three hours after the eclipse, stretched on and
on, as Barnard neared the horizon, but never set. George awoke and took over
as they approached the north pole. As he sat down and automatically scanned
the sky, he had to squint his eyes slightly against the red sun hanging just a
few degrees above the horizon.
       "Here we are in the land of the midnight sun," he said. "The scenery is
about as barren and uninteresting as the scenery at the Earth's north pole."
       "Or the north pole of Ganymede," remarked Richard. "But you're looking
at it with the wrong eyes. To me it's very interesting. Below that crust is
millions of years of climatic history, compressed into layers of ice
containing trapped air bubbles and dust particles and various isotopes that
can tell us what has happened to this moon in the distant past. I want a
sample..." his finger pointed at the touch-screen. "...from right here."
       "The north pole," replied George, looking at the green blob on his
navigation display. "Of course. We should be there in half an hour." He spoke
to his imp, "Deirdre?"
       "Deirdre is now on sleep shift," replied Joe. "Shall I connect you with
Cinnamon?"
       "Please," replied George, and when the connection had been made, he
added. "Richard will be needing to use the airlock in about an hour. Please
get the flouwen back into their drysuits and the airlock emptied out."
       "Right," came Cinnamon's reply back through his imp. "But Little Red
will be wanting to help you fly the airplane."
       "That's OK," replied George. "I'll put him in the co-pilot seat and let
him operate the display -- but I'll deactivate the controls -- that'll keep
him occupied and out of the way."
       George landed the airplane at the north pole without incident.
       "What's the weather prediction, Joe?"
       "James predicts a few mild snowstorms, but no high winds for at least
two days."
       "Great!" exclaimed Richard. "I should be able to get at least a
kilometer deep core in that time."
       "Where are you going to put a kilometer long ice core?" exclaimed
Cinnamon.
       "In Joe's memory," replied Richard, heading for the airlock.
       After they landed, everyone not asleep put on suits to go outside.
George helped Richard haul the electrically powered coring machine out from
the storage hold underneath the airplane, while Shirley pulled out a power
cable connected to the _Dragonfly_'s electrical power system. Before he
started the machine, Richard explained how it worked to Cinnamon.
       "It's not really an ice coring machine that cuts out a core and brings
it to the surface to be analyzed. It's more like a mole with an analysis
machine built into it. This millimeter-sized cylindrical cutter in the very
nose cuts a core and passes it back through a sophisticated analyzer that
continuously measures the ice's density and opto-electrical properties, then
melts the core to extract the air and dust, and analyzes those. The data
collected is then passed back up the power cable. I start it out by using a
coring tool to make a hole for the mole to start in." He demonstrated using a
sharp edged cylindrical tool that quickly cut a half-meter deep hole in the




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packed snow. "I then put the mole in the hole -- it's a snug fit -- and these
screw treads along the side push it forward, while these sharp rotating teeth
in front cut up the ice, pass the chunks up through these channels, and out
the rear. If it encounters a rock, it backs up -- you can see that there are
cutters in the rear too -- starts another hole at an angle, and works its way
around the obstacle and continues on down, sending back data as it goes. The
real trick was getting ten kilometers of power and data cable in this storage
canister at the end. It's all done optically through a very low loss optical
fibre and high efficiency electro-optical and opto-electric converters." He
started the mole up, and it soon was out of sight.
       "What happens when it gets to the bottom?" asked Cinnamon.
       "I can either leave it there, or have it climb out, either back up the
hole it made on the way down, which is the fastest way, or upward through
pristine ice to get a confirming set of data. I won't decide which option
until I see how fast it is penetrating through this ice, or George or the
weatherman warns me that my time is running out."
       Once the mole was on its way down, and Shirley and her helpers had
anchored the _Dragonfly_ down with ice anchors, there was little else to do
except watch Barnard circle around the sky, eight degrees above the horizon.
When the noon-time eclipse occurred, with Barnard going behind Gargantua, cut
in half by the horizon, the crew went back into the plane, and the flouwen
habitat was restored.
       Later, Deirdre found herself idly staring out the cockpit windows at
the darkening sky, swirling with another snowstorm. All of the humans were apt
to do this; the sight was mesmerizing. The snowflakes changed shape with the
force of the wind, ranging from clusters held together by sleet, to fine, tiny
particles like diamond dust, now drifting into huge mounds, now swirling in
miniature cyclones, now blowing horizontally. Trying to imagine how cold it
would feel on her skin, Deirdre shivered, and turned away from the bleak
landscape. Although _Dragonfly_ was comfortably warm inside, Deirdre's long
reverie out the window had left her feeling chilled, and she headed
purposefully for the galley. Pausing only to get a cup of hot tea, she put Joe
to work on some puff pastry. The computer was capable of producing a fine,
thin sheet that, in the hot oven, burst into delicate layers of crispness.
Deftly, Deirdre wrapped the unbaked pastry around a rich filling of chunks of
real meat from Chicken Little, fragrant mushrooms, and crisp bits of onion,
moistened with a clear sauce redolent of wine from James's chemical
synthesizers. The aroma of the little triangles, baking to a rich brown,
brought the crew in plenty of time to savor them hot, with a bit of freshly
mixed mustard. Deirdre called the little pies "bridies", and the crew loved
them. They were improved even further by their contrast to the forbidding
landscape outside.
       The ice at the north pole must have been fairly clean of
micrometeorites, because the mole never encountered one. The only excitement
came after two Zulu days, when, four kilometers down, the mole broke through
into the ocean under the ice. Fortunately, it was able to back up in time, and
after turning the mole around, Richard had it climb back up, taking more data
on the way.
       After the period of relative inactivity, the crew was eager to go. The
mole was resupplied with a new power cable package and stored under the hull,
the anchors were lifted and stowed away, and Arielle was in the pilot's seat.
As it had been continuously since they had arrived, it was still light
outside.
       "Where next?" asked Arielle, turning to look at George in the co-pilot
seat.
       "The leading pole," said George. "That's were all the atmosphere and
water molecules that the geysers threw into space fall back again onto Zulu.
We want to get samples at as high an altitude as we can fly."
       "_Dragonfly_ can go all the way into space on its jets," Arielle
reminded him.




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       "We want to save the monopropellant for real emergencies," replied
George. "Like the ascent module on _Victoria_ not working. Just fly us there
at a good mapping altitude, and when we get close, we'll take it as high as it
will go on the atmospheric bypass jets."
       Arielle lifted the _Dragonfly_, Shirley started the mapping routine,
and George pulled up the northern hemisphere weather map obtained from the
statite _Colin_ hovering above, and shifted it to cover the region from the
north pole to the leading pole. The map was full of strong, tightly coiled
cloud features.
       "We're in for a stormy experience," he said with obvious concern.
       "Maybe we should try another pole first," suggested Shirley. "Perhaps
the weather around the inner pole will be better later."
       "The weather around the inner pole is always bad," replied George.
"Because of all the infalling air and water vapor at the leading pole, it's a
region of constant high pressure, high humidity, and relative warmth -- the
kinetic energy of the infalling molecules heats up the air. As the warm high
pressure air mass spreads out onto the rest of the planet, it cools,
precipitation starts, and storms are bred. It's a continuous process -- one
storm front after another. Waiting won't do any good, so we might as well go
now."
       It was a terribly bumpy flight. Everyone stayed belted in either a seat
or a bunk, and the flouwen had an occasional breaking wave in their habitat
tank. Shirley complained that they were losing mapping data, but a number of
times Arielle had to climb above the clouds because there was no way around
them at lower altitudes. Finally, they approached the leading pole region and
the air became calmer. The sky was clear overhead, and Gargantua was on the
horizon, cut in half by the skyline. Barnard had just set and the visible half
of Gargantua was fully illuminated. It was a picture of quiet calm.
       "We're in the permanent center of the storm," remarked George, now in
the pilot seat. He took the plane up as high as he could coax it to go, until
the controls became mushy. He wished Arielle were not on her sleep shift,
because she could have got a few more hundred meters out of the plane.
       "Deploy atmospheric sampler scoops," he commanded Joe, and the plane
wiggled slightly in protest and drifted lower in altitude as its aerodynamic
properties were changed.
       "The composition looks pretty much as you predicted," reported Richard
from the science console, as he watched the data build up on his screen.
       "Except I now have real numbers to put into my atmospheric model,"
replied George. "I presume you want an ice core sample?"
       "Of course," replied Richard.
       "Then down we go," said George, turning the _Dragonfly_ into a slowly
descending spiral. As he descended, the illuminated portion of the
half-hemisphere of Gargantua visible above the horizon became thinner and the
night grew darker, as Barnard circled around during the night. Finally
Gargantua was no longer a source of light, but instead was a large gray-black
blank spot on the eastern horizon of the star-studded sky. There was no light
except that from the stars and the distant quarter moon of Zouave. George
thought for a while about landing on the ice using his wing lights, but
decided discretion was the better choice and put _Dragonfly_ into a circular
holding pattern until the sun rose. Sunrise was forty minutes late, as Barnard
finally rose from behind Gargantua. The eclipse, which occurred at noon-day on
the inner pole, occurred at daybreak here at the leading pole.
       After four days at the leading pole, a frustrated Richard finally had
to give up with only a few kilometers of core data taken because of multiple
encounters with stones. It didn't take a very large micrometeorite to clog up
a millimeter-sized coring tube.
       "The seasonal ice layers are extremely thin here," remarked Richard as
he looked at the data. "In some cases, large sequences that we saw in the
north pole data are missing, as if there had been no deposit during that
period, or the surface was evaporated away at a later time."




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       "It _is_ warmer here than anywhere else on the planet," George reminded
him.
       "But why are there so many rocks?" Shirley asked. "We didn't run into
any in the north pole core."
       "It _is_ the leading pole," remarked Cinnamon. "Naturally you would
expect more debris to fall in on this hemisphere."
       "That's part of it," said Richard. "But I suspect the real reason is
that while lots of snow and meteorites fall down onto the surface over time,
the snow evaporates away, while the rocks don't, so pretty soon you have built
up a high density of rocks. I give up. Let's go somewhere else more
profitable."
       "And where there is something for the rest of us to do other than watch
Richard's moles dig holes in the ice," muttered Shirley.
       "The next stop is the inner pole," replied George. "The orbital survey
cameras have identified a number of icerug colonies there, so we should all
have plenty to see -- including the flouwen."
       They headed westward, passing bumpily again through the storm belt
around the inner pole. The further west they went, the lower Gargantua sank on
the horizon. They finally left it behind, and as a result when nighttime came,
it became pitch black, but Arielle kept the plane boring through the darkness.
       "The icerugs at the outer pole shall be living a different schedule to
the inner pole icerugs," mused Deirdre. "They'll have to shut down completely
at night, while the ones at the inner pole just slowed down, since they still
could see, though their energy intake was lowered."
       "That would be one of the things we'll have to ask them about,"
remarked Cinnamon.
         ****
They didn't get to ask them anything. Arielle had slowly, and carefully, and
quietly, landed the _Dragonfly_ on the outskirts of a prosperous looking
icerug city. A greeting party of George, Cinnamon, and Deirdre had exited the
airlock -- George deciding that including the flouwen on this first meeting
would be too confusing. Each member of the greeting party had their suit imp
outside on their shoulder, holding a large speaker cone of glassy-foil in
their glittering fingers, ready to boom out the icerug words as the humans
spoke. The humans had marched up to a vertex where three of the icerug carpets
met and waited. George looked up at the sky to see that _Prometheus_ was
hovering above them. The crew on the spaceship would be watching the meeting
through the video cameras in the helmets of the exploration party. The three
icerugs first looked at them from a distance, then together they ventured up
enough nerve to bring their nodes to the edge of their carpets. One of them
gave a lengthy speech, but instead of an automatic translation of the speech,
there was only silence from their imps.
       "I am unable to translate," Joe finally had to admit.
       "Do you mean to say you can't understand a word?" asked George. "Did
you ask James to help you out?"
       "It is comparable to asking someone to translate Swahili after having
been trained to translate Japanese," came James's voice over their imps.
       "These outer pole icerugs are as distant and isolated from the inner
pole icerugs as are Africa and Japan," remarked Deirdre. "It is not surprising
there are major differences in language."
       "If you start talking while pointing at people and things, I can start
building up a new vocabulary," suggested Joe.
       "I'm afraid we don't have time for that," said George regretfully.
       "The reason we were able to communicate with the other icerugs so
quickly is that _Splish_ and James had spent the necessary time beforehand
learning the language," Cinnamon reminded him. "What we need is another
_Splish_."
       "We have one -- _Babble_," remarked Deirdre.
       "That's a good point, Deirdre," said George, thinking. "We are going to
have to leave the visiting of these outer pole icerugs to the follow-on




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mission, but we can make their life easier by leaving _Babble_ behind to
maintain contact so James and these icerugs can learn to speak to each other."
       "We'll be wanting first to use _Babble_ with the flouwen in the ocean,"
reminded Deirdre. "Although we cannot ask these icerugs for samples of
themselves, the flouwen can surely get bits of the plants and animals around
the volcanic vents here. At least we'll learn if there are differences between
the inner and outer pole underwater ecosystems."
       So; after a baffling exchange of sounds, the humans and icerugs parted.
       As expected, the flouwen found the ocean similar to the ocean around
the Manannan geyser, and returned with many bags of samples. The flouwen were
willing to tackle a coelashark, but George forbade it.
       "Richard will want to measure the next big tide and geyser action
anyway. That is bound to eject some coelasharks, and all we have to do is get
to one of those thrown out on the ice before the icerugs do."
       Back on the _Dragonfly_, Richard checked with the tidal tables for
Zulu. "The next good-sized tide will be in three Zulu days. It will occur at
high noon here on the outer pole. Zuni will eclipse Barnard, and their two
tides will add up."
       "And three days should give you enough time to take another ice core
sample," said George with a sigh. "Too bad you need the _Dragonfly_ power
supply. It would be nice to use the time to fly around and get mapping data of
the rest of the geysers around the inner pole."
       "It'll give me time to modify _Babble_," said Shirley. "I'll want to
add a video camera and a touch-screen so James and the crew on _Prometheus_
can do more than just talk with these icerugs." She walked down the corridor
toward the engineering section in the back. "I'll also need to leave it some
spare parts so it can fix itself."
         ****
As before, when a geyser eruption was expected, everyone wanted to watch.
Sleep shifts were juggled and nudged, and preparations made. Deirdre shared
Arielle's opinion that a good show was made even better by ample refreshments,
and expertly blended various tasty ingredients into spreads for the crisp and
wholesome but bland crackers that James seemed proud of. She also assembled
several spicy sauces, perfect for dipping small hot crunchy portions of "crab"
cakes and "sausages". Four of the crew wedged themselves comfortably into the
cockpit area and the jumpseats behind to watch the beginning of the eruption,
while Deirdre and Richard went outside; Richard to measure its height, and
Deirdre in silent determination to miss nothing, if she could help it. Shirley
had activated the radar in the nose dome of the airplane to scan the geyser
during the eruption.
       "If a big object like a coelashark gets ejected, we should be able to
track its trajectory with the radar and calculate its approximate landing
point. If it's far enough outside the icerug city, then it's fair game for
us."
       All of them were in position well in time. Foxx sat quietly on her
mistress' shoulder; Deirdre enjoyed having her small presence to talk to. Now,
as the distant waters began to rise up, the woman was too breathless to speak
at all. The sky above was clear, and it was strange not to see the giant bulk
of Gargantua taking up a large part of the heavens. Barnard rose higher,
rapidly catching up with the fingernail moon of Zuni high overhead. The dark
orb of Zuni was four times bigger than the distant sun.
       The rising column of water seemed to take on a life of its own. Almost
did it seem like some strange god, pulsing with vitality as it thrust upward.
No wonder the icerugs regarded it with awe. Higher and higher the giant
waterspout climbed, glinting and sparkling redly in the light from Barnard,
and as it froze into droplets at the summit, the turbulent upward rising winds
driven by the geyser began to catch the vital moisture and fling it outwards
in all directions. Barnard finally caught up with the now dark Zuni at the
zenith, and disappeared behind it. In the two and a half minutes of total
darkness that resulted, the geyser reached its full height of fury, the




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distant rumbling, gushing sound overwhelming them, the frozen snow beneath
their feet shaking with the mighty roar. Barnard came out from behind Zuni to
illuminate the peak of the rising column of water, now reaching through the
upper atmosphere and out into space. Richard was intent, periodically
measuring the height of the geyser top with his sextant and calling out the
results to his imp for later analysis, while Deirdre had simply watched, and
now had to blink away tears of gratitude for the privilege of beholding this
wonder. Not until the waters had subsided, as swiftly as they had risen, was
she able to move, and return to the ship.
       "That was great! I'm really pleased. I was able to get a good set of
data this time. Quite a show, hunh?" Deirdre could only nod, once, before
hurrying off, and Richard shrugged. "Just can't impress that girl," he
thought.
       As Richard and Deirdre cycled through the airlock, they were surprised
that no one, not even Shirley, was there to help them out of their suits.
Helmets in hand, they went forward. Everyone was gathered around the
communications console, which showed the worried-looking face of Katrina.
       "Something strange is happening here," she said. "When Thomas looked
out the viewport window during his mid-shift meal at midnight, he saw that the
nearby icerugs are gone!"
       "Gone!" repeated George, concerned. "That _is_ strange. I don't like
it. I think perhaps it would be best if we came straight back and rejoined
forces, then find out what is going on."
         ****
"My coring mole is on its repeat journey," said Richard. "We don't need to
stay here for my sake. We can cut it and go -- I've got more."
       "Then let's head back to base," said George, starting for the cockpit.
       "Shucks," said Cinnamon. "I was really hoping to find a whole
coelashark to dissect -- hopefully one with some vermicysts in it."
       "It'll have to wait," said George, gruffly.
--------
         *CHAPTER 12 -- WARRING*
       As the _Dragonfly_ sped back towards the _Victoria_, Deirdre discovered
to her own surprise that she was eager to meet again with the icerugs of
Windward City. Carefully avoiding the thought of any sentiment, she was hoping
that the icerugs would have made some progress in figuring out their own life
cycle, and that she could learn something about it. She still regretted her
own "interferin'", as she privately regarded her explanation of evolution to
the icerug; however, if she had aroused the creature's curiosity, it might
perhaps prove fruitful.
       George radioed to _Victoria_ as they neared.
       "Glad you're nearly here," said Katrina. "Thomas and Sam have been out
looking around. They didn't learn much, but there must be some kind of serious
trouble here, and without the _Dragonfly_ we can't go find out what it is."
       "What kind of trouble?" asked George.
       "That's just it, we don't know," said Katrina, her concern clear in the
transmitted words. "All the adult icerugs have left the area around us,
abandoning the young ones and leaving them to shift on their own. Even the
local teacher, Smooth-Brown has left. But there's been no sign of any
disasters, major eruptions outside the normal tidal cycle, or storms." The
crew aboard the _Dragonfly_ were silent, considering this information. Arielle
turned to George.
       "Fly by city center on way?"
       "Good idea," agreed George. "Probably can't tell much from the air, but
it can't hurt." The slender plane turned gently to the right, and headed for
the center of the icerug city. The human eyes stared eagerly down at the bleak
landscape below, and as the first icerugs came into view, there were
exclamations of surprise. Instead of the large, triangularly-shaped blue-green
carpeted fields covering the ground, great sections of the ice now lay
uncovered. On the northern side of the city they could see some icerug




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carpets, but they were arranged in long strips to form a kilometers-long
tapered blue-green band of icerug flesh, with the wide ends of the carpets
based in fields around the city, and the narrow ends close together and all
pointing off into the distance toward the north. Far out on the horizon to the
north of the end of the tapered band, another darkened blue-green band was
visible, and without a word, Arielle turned the little craft in that
direction. As they neared the strange formation, they began to see what it
was.
       "More icerugs! In those peculiar strips!" David's far-sighted eyes
picked out the elongated pointed shapes of the icerug bodies.
       "The carpets are like spears," said Deirdre. "I know they're not
spears, but the shape of them is spear-like. And they're all pointed at the
city." Arielle swung the _Dragonfly_ in a wide arc above the line of tightly
grouped icerugs, and then headed back to _Victoria_ directly.
       "As soon as we drop off the flouwen, we'll head right back to the city
and find out what's going on," commanded George. "Maybe this is an icerug
ceremony of some kind."
       Back at _Victoria_, the flouwen returned to their habitat tank. The
humans, however, were anxious to learn what was happening and soon were back
in the air. Arielle floated the plane gently down on the ice shelf near the
center of the city.
       "We'll plan on a short visit this time, Arielle," said George. "I'd
prefer that you not go all the way back to _Victoria_. Keep circling nearby,
unless you hear from me. We might want to leave sooner than we've done
before." Arielle grinned.
       "Make quick go-away?" she asked.
       "I think it's 'getaway' you mean, but yes, that's the idea." As the
little plane hovered, the humans jumped to the surface, their boots kicking up
a fine dust of frozen snow. They marched quickly, without talking,
increasingly concerned at the sight of the changes around them. No icerug
nodes stood talking, or moving about their own affairs in the normally busy
environs of the city center. In the distance, through the blur of gently
falling thick snowflakes, they could see occasional bright flashes of light,
and hear loud icerug voices. Puzzled and alarmed, they hurried on, and rounded
an icy wall, to confront an open area of ice which served the aliens as a
central forum. Five icerug nodes were fighting furiously, and while three of
the nodes were attached as usual to a track of carpet which led off to their
body in some distant field, the other two nodes had no extended carpet, only a
wide skirt of velvety flesh around the thick pedestal. The three normal nodes,
hampered in their movements by their trailing carpets, were stabbing and
slashing at the two more mobile nodes with crude halberds, poles of dried
seaweed stalks topped with combination spike and axe heads of sharp stone. The
outnumbered pair had stone knives in each tentacle and darted around and over
the carpets of the others with lightning quickness, slashing at their
opponent's heads and eyes as they whirled past. They were all bellowing, and
the speed and ferocity of the two strange nodes almost seemed to equalize the
battle. One of the halberd wielders finally worked its way around behind the
conflict, and struck savagely at the knife-wielding tentacles, severing a
number of them in a series of short, powerful chops. The two carpetless nodes,
now nearly helpless, still fought to wrestle their opponents with unbridled
fury, even trying to bite their foes with their tiny mouths. There was no
attempt to surrender or plead for mercy or even to flee, which the more mobile
nodes could easily have done. It was obvious, though, that the mobile nodes
were rapidly becoming exhausted. With roars of triumph, the three carpeted
icerugs surrounded them, and stabbed and chopped viciously with their pole
axes until their foes were only scattered chunks of flesh upon the scratched
and gouged surface of the formerly polished ice. As the victors straightened,
Richard saw with amazement that one of them was his companion of a few weeks
ago, Pink-Orb. He spoke to it, amazed.
       "I can't believe what I saw! What is going on here? Who were those




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icerugs without carpets?" The three aliens approached slowly, and Katrina
exclaimed.
       "They're hurt!"
       Deirdre and Richard recognized the other two then, but only just.
Silver-Rim's great shiny eye was dimmed, and apparently cooked to a coagulated
white on one side, while Eclipse had lost the ends of three tentacles. As the
humans looked, they could see the strange fluid-like skin of the icerugs begin
to clot over their oozing slash wounds. The clots were soon covered with a
fresh surface of velvety skin covering, leaving lumps where wounds had been.
       "Greetings, Richard." Pink-Orb's voice was weak, and it apparently hurt
to vibrate the wounded tissues of its clot-dotted head portion, but the alien
spoke as coolly as ever to the humans, nothing of the savage fighter showing
in its manner. "Those creatures we have killed were some of the advance
warriors of our enemy. We are at war." The flat statement silenced the humans
briefly.
       "War with who? Icerugs like those two -- were?" George glanced at the
remains and looked away. Pink-Orb exchanged a brief sentence or two with its
companions, who moved off together at high speed, heading towards the distant
sounds and lights. Pink-Orb addressed George, without the customary icerug
verbosity.
       "War with invaders. Their own geyser, far to the north, has failed. The
first we knew of their approach was when an advance party of carpetless
warriors erupted from a tunnel they had made, deep within the ice and
penetrating below our city center. They attacked instantly, and killed our
Presider and many others. By now, the others of us fighting below the surface
have killed or driven back the carpeted icerug nodes that carried these
carpetless ones through the tunnel. But there are still many of them loose in
the city."
       "You really had no warning?" asked George.
       "None. We knew they were starving because their geyser had stopped, and
we suspected that they might some day come to drive us away from Manannan, but
we did not have any warning of this attack until they were among us. The
tunnel avoided all our own construction below the city with great care. It was
a dreadful day. Many of us have been wounded, some very seriously, in the
fighting. Two things have aided us; the invaders must travel a long distance,
and the carpetless ones have little endurance. They must constantly eat to
keep up their strength. Also, we were fortunate that the Convener of the
Center of Historical Studies kept a museum of ancient weapons. They may be
old, but the edge of a venerable axe is still good! And, of course the
Convener has the history plates that tell us all about those weapons, so we
are rapidly making more."
       George was aghast; "You are making _more_ weapons?"
       "Certainly." The reply was grimly cold. "The invaders arrived armed
only with crude stone knives and spears, and fire poles -- long staffs with a
ball of blazing pitch at the end to sear an eyeball. Our history plates tell
us how to make poison gas to flood the invader's tunnel and kill all those
there, machines that throw flame to a great distance to singe the carpets of
an invading army coming over the surface, and flash bombs to blind the foe.
When blinded, the enemy are even more vulnerable, and we shall overwhelm them
utterly. I must go to search out more of the advance party." Pink-Orb glided
away without another word.
       "We must stop them! We must get them to talk, negotiate, use reason!"
Katrina was incoherent with dismay.
       "I can't believe such civilized creatures really mean to destroy each
other so totally," said George. "Pink-Orb must have been exaggerating. Let's
go further along this way. But until we know more, we'd best stay out of the
way as well as we can."
       Richard spoke quietly: "I didn't hear, in anything Pink-Orb said, the
slightest desire for peace."
       Deirdre nodded. "It's most careful observation we must be making, just




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now. And most scientific detachment, Katrina. This is no time to interfere!"
The little group raced as silently as possible towards the sounds ahead, and
climbed up on a convenient ice wall to survey the action below.
       It was another battle of the carpeted icerugs with a group of
carpetless invaders, not a large one, but of such ferocity the humans could
only watch in horror. Pink-Orb had rejoined its associates, and the three were
part of an uneven line advancing, with small, flashing bombs exploding before
them. The invading icerugs, which were undistinguishable from the defenders to
a human eye except for their lack of carpet, resisted bitterly.
       Two opposing nodes fell upon each other's upraised whirling blades, and
then separated, desperately wounded. With a final burst of energy, one hurled
another flash bomb at its opponent, and got it full in the eye. The screams of
both were ghastly, and the advancing victor, whom the humans recognized as
Silver-Rim, closed brutally with its victim, slashing and stabbing. Katrina
whimpered as the blinded icerug retaliated wildly, attacking still, until the
ruthless blows of Silver-Rim killed it and chopped it into quivering chunks.
Deirdre fought to remain calm.
       "You'll be noticing, Richard, there is no call for mercy, and none
given?" she said.
       Richard spoke with some difficulty. "Yes, I see that. The blinded
icerug made no motion of surrender." The battle continued, and George was
shocked to observe that it was all aggression; there was no move to assist a
fallen comrade, rather a total commitment to destroying the enemy. And the
enemy, at least in this particular savage encounter, was annihilated to the
last specimen. The victorious defenders stood, absolutely alone, upon the
field, and then began slowly to collect their dead and wounded in silence. The
gentle snow continued to fall upon the slaughtered, and the humans roused
themselves, deeply disturbed by what they had witnessed.
       George was especially bothered. "When humans fight wars, they hate the
enemy soldier and all he stands for, but once he's injured and no longer a
threat, it's international law that he be treated well. He is, after all, a
fellow human."
       "But these are not humans," Deirdre reminded him. "And they should not
be judged according to humans standards. Besides, although we may not ken what
it be, there is probably a reason for their behavior."
       "Besides," objected George. "What's going on doesn't make sense from
either a political or military point of view."
       "What do you mean by that?" asked Richard.
       "As we have seen from the air," replied George. "There is plenty of
room around Manannan geyser for more icerugs. Windward City occupies the best
location, on the downwind side, but the vacant parts of the shore aren't that
bad. From a political point of view, it would have been wiser for the Presider
of Windward City to let the Northward City icerugs occupy part of the unused
lake shore, than to let things escalate into a total war with heavy
casualties. From the military point of view, the invader's tactics are wrong.
What they want is the fallout from the geyser, so they need territory --
territory under the geyser. They should have crept onto the unused lakefront
territory, set up a perimeter defense, and waited, growing stronger all the
time, daring the Windward City icerugs to attack. Instead, they launched a
full-scale attack at the center of the city, complete with the icerug
equivalent of berserkers, with the primary intention of killing as many of the
Windward City icerugs as possible, no matter what the cost in casualties. It
is almost as though both sides were unable to comprehend the concept of
sharing."
       "Perhaps that concept is alien to them," said Deirdre coolly. "Humans
are highly social, with cultures designed around sharing. Although the icerug
communities may look like social organizations, they are not human, and you
should not expect them to function similarly."
       George began relating, for Josephine's benefit, his impressions of the
battle they had witnessed, to go along with the video images that their helmet




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cameras had recorded, as the humans headed back to meet Arielle. The listening
crew were appalled at what he had to say, and Cinnamon queried him in
disbelief.
       "You mean these gentle creatures, who make such lovely music, who have
been so polite to us, who live in such beauty of their own creation -- they
actually slaughtered each other without mercy?"
       "With absolute savagery," answered George somberly. "Without hesitating
a second. There was no thought behind what I saw, it was just butchery."
       "I thought this was a real civilization, Cinnamon," Katrina transmitted
sadly. "But I'm afraid I was wrong."
       "I was too," admitted George. "I fell into the old anthropomorphism
thing, finding parallels with humankind at every step. That was a mistake.
These creatures have no humanity in them."
       "That's right," said Richard definitely. "They are purely and simply --
alien." They had reached the landing site now, and the _Dragonfly_ was
hovering silently.
       "_True,_ damn it!"
       The barked words sounded like a gun-blast, and the crew spun around to
stare in amazement at Deirdre. She stood apart, angrier than she had ever been
before. Her words were scorching, and no one there had ever imagined the
lilting voice was capable of such venom and fire.
       "_Alien_, ye've said it, and _I've_ said it, and it's a fine word that.
An honest word, and it doesn't mean less than human, or more than human, it
means _different_ to human! And ye should thank whatever gods your small minds
pray to that they're _not_ human! Think you it's a thing to be proud of,
indeed? These ignorant creatures know nothing of torture, have you seen that?
They dinna torture, nor enslave, nor harm any living thing, not for reasons of
race, or greed, or lust, nor all the reasons any self-respecting human
dictator can -- _and has_ -- found expedient! They dinna kill nor maim nor
imprison minds or bodies in the blessed name of religion, which _all_ human
religions have found expedient! Nor do they do any of those things for the
foul reason so many humans do -- because their wicked souls _enjoy_ inflicting
pain on other people, on enslaved animals, on small things that have no words!
I have tried, _most_ of you have tried to keep from thinking of the icerugs as
intelligent, unemotional, but funny-looking _people_, and we have all failed!
We are _wrong_! And full well ye know it! They are not, nor shall they _ever_
be human, and may the Universe forgive us for coming here and meddling and
then, _damn_ it to hell! _condemning_ them for their behavior! _Shame_ be on
your human heads!
       The fiery green glare suddenly sparkled and softened, as Deirdre's eyes
filled with tears. She pushed through the little crew of stunned people, and
hurried into the airlock. Nobody had anything to say. Richard followed
quickly, removed his suit and headed thoughtfully for the shower. He saw that
Deirdre had the same intention, and was coming towards him wrapped in a towel.
They both stopped, and then Richard stepped back, with a brief nod, and got
out of her way. Deirdre smiled and walked silently into the shower, closing
the door firmly behind her.
--------
         *CHAPTER 13 -- DIVING*
       As the war continued, the humans stayed aboard _Victoria_.
       "I feel strongly that we must not interfere," said George. "And I can't
see us just strolling about, observing and commenting, but taking no part in
the action."
       "And you'd be in the way," added Deirdre drily. "Might even be a bit
... painful, perchance." George said nothing. The crew's safety was his prime
responsibility, and he took it seriously. For several days, as they stayed
aboard their two vehicles and studied of the data and samples they had
collected, the crew could hear occasional battle noises, which had now grown
to loud explosions. They never became accustomed to them, and everyone winced
at the sounds. On the fourth day, silence fell, and lasted. Shirley sent a




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query to _Splish_, which had remained immobile on the ice shelf lake front
near the city.
       "The icerugs in my field of observation are no longer fighting. They
are moving slowly and are filling up their respective territories. There are
no more loud voices."
       "Perhaps this means there is peace now!" said Shirley eagerly.
       _Splish_'s mechanical reply was precise. "Peace is not a word the
icerugs have in their dictionary. They have probably annihilated the enemy and
the war is over for that reason."
       This came as a shock, even after all they had seen. But all were
anxious to know the condition of the formerly friendly icerugs, and Thomas and
Richard volunteered to investigate. George agreed, but insisted on going
along. For the first time in the long history of their explorations, he also
insisted on supplying each of them with a weapon. It was a recoilless hand
launcher for laser-beam-riding rocket-propelled explosive bullets -- accurate
in any gravity field from zero to five gees.
       "Keep it concealed in your chestpack -- unless you need it -- and I'm
pretty sure you won't. But in the aftermath of war, sometimes situations
become ... uncertain."
       The three men were dropped off on the lake front ice shelf, Arielle
keeping the _Dragonfly_ aloft above them. They were cheered by the sight of
icerug nodes active again upon their carpets, although there were many empty
areas.
       "There's Pink-Orb," said Richard, pointing to the plum-colored carpet.
"But the node is not coming to greet us. I'll give a shout." The friendly deep
hail from the glassy-foil speaker cone of Richard's suit imp seemed to
surprise the alien, who turned slowly in the center of its carpet. Another
call from Richard, and Pink-Orb moved in their direction, slowly. To their
horror they saw that the beautiful large pink eye of the alien was gone,
replaced with a blob of scar tissue on the end of the eye-stalk. The node
moved cautiously, stopping frequently to reorient itself.
       "Thomas and George are with me, Pink-Orb. Is there any sight left to
you?" asked Richard anxiously. The alien gave a forlorn-sounding moan.
       "None at all. My other wounds, though deep and serious, are healing
rapidly. But I will never see a star or moon again. Fortunately, my last blow
killed the invader. It was one of the last of them, I think." The alien's
voice was firm and cool now, and Thomas, who had only heard about the savage
battles, was stunned.
       "Were there no survivors or captives at all?" Thomas asked.
       "What are captives?" asked Pink-Orb curiously. That stopped Thomas.
       George asked, "What about the Presider, Golden-Glint? And the musicians
Silver-Rim and ... he was going on, but Pink-Orb waved a tentacle in protest.
       "The Presider was one of the first killed, so I know of that death. Of
the rest, I only learn as I am told, from my nearby neighbors. My career here
in the city as an astronomer is at an end. I shall have to retire to the
country, where it is easier for a cripple to live. I hope to be out there in
time to benefit from the season of high tides, which is due in the next twenty
days. The expected deluge should produce a rain of rich foods for me."
       "Will we be unwelcome if we go into the city to see the damage done by
the battles?" asked George.
       "No one is ever unwelcome in our city, unless they mean harm," said the
alien gravely.
       "Like the old warning: Trespassers Will Be Eaten," muttered Richard.
But he could feel only respect and compassion for this profoundly wounded
alien intelligence, and offered, "Shall I visit you at your new location, at
the time of the quadruple conjunction? I could describe the sight to you, and
we could compare data."
       "That would a generous gift to me," said Pink-Orb. "One which I cannot
repay..."
       "We are sharing knowledge," said Richard. "Information is valuable only




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to those who can use it. We, ourselves, have much to learn, always."
       Pink-Orb seemed satisfied with Richard's vague words, and they agreed
to meet at the time of the middle and the largest of the five upcoming
eruptions. The three humans then continued into the city, looking around for
traces of the war. There were surprisingly few.
       "Actually, the buildings and all look in pretty good shape," said
Thomas. "I guess ice is not going to be affected by anything less than a bomb
or fire. But you said they had both of those?"
       "Yes, but they were only intent on each other's bodies," stressed
George. "They didn't seem to be trying to take or hold territory. You didn't
see them, Thomas, it was not like any battle of the sort we know. It was just
a series of mutual assassinations, single-minded murders every one."
       They encountered several icerug nodes moving through the city on their
carpet threads, all of them bearing lumpy scars covering new wounds and moving
with difficulty. It was also apparent how much fewer there were of them; only
individuals, intent on their own affairs, none of the gossiping clusters that
had previously made the city center hum with their deep voices. The three
humans grew more and more depressed, but continued their walk. They entered
into the Grand Portal and went down into the room of musical instruments. Here
George was delighted to see Silver-Rim; Deirdre and David would be glad to
know the musician had survived, although it had lost a tentacle.
       "Yes, my other injuries will mend, but for me the loss of a tentacle is
severe indeed, and will affect my music. Fortunately, the other tentacles will
stretch, so I shall be able to adapt. My greatest loss is Clear-Eye. The
invaders butchered my brightest student in one of the first attacks. We had no
idea of danger until we found ourselves in the middle of a battle."
       Thomas was struck again by the lack of emotion in these sentient
creatures. Silver-Rim's report was factual, but not grief-stricken. This was
borne out in further conversation; the injured icerugs would heal, would grow
new flesh and incidentally devour every trace of their enemies. The areas and
tunnels belonging to those in the city who had been killed would be taken over
and utilized in orderly manner.
       "Then we shall be able to resume our normal activities," concluded
Silver-Rim. "I shall send word through the Conveners that I can accept a new
pupil. Some of the younglings in the country escaped the war and will be eager
to come to the city. And, of course, in the interval between the high tides,
new younglings will appear. We shall survive as we always have."
       After a few more words, the humans left, sobered by the toll the brief
conflict had taken on the icerugs, and still puzzled by the necessity for it,
but on the whole reassured. Back on _Victoria_, George stowed their weapons,
feeling rather humble. Thomas and Josephine then presented the rest of the
crew with a schedule for the upcoming maximum high tides.
       "There is going to be a series of five high tides and geyser eruptions.
They happen every 111.5 Zulu days, when Barnard, Zouave, Zuni, and Zulu all
line up in a quadruple conjunction. We were in space looking down at the top
of the geyser the last time this happened. It was at noon, when Barnard was in
eclipse behind Gargantua. This upcoming conjunction will occur at midnight,
when Barnard, Zouave, and Zuni are all over the outer hemisphere of Zulu, and
this time we'll be underneath the geyser, looking up."
       "Have we really been here over a _hundred_ days?" exclaimed George.
       "A hundred Zulu days," Thomas replied. "Over two Earth months."
       Arielle's first concern, as always, was with the safety of her
airplane. "I take _Dragonfly_ west -- out of fallout," she announced firmly.
       "Although _Victoria_ should be safe this far out in the country, I wish
I could move her too," replied George. "But she'll just have to ride out the
storm."
       Cinnamon, Deirdre, and Katrina, however, were eager to know when,
between surges, it would be safe for them to go out collecting.
       "Your suits will protect you against small debris," Shirley warned.
"But a hundred-kilo coelashark, falling at terminal velocity, will be bad




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news. You'd better plan those trips carefully!"
         ****
The view of the first eruption from the viewport window of the _Victoria_ was
eerily beautiful, seen from a distance, but lacked the spine-tingling
awesomeness of the sight close up. Still, Deirdre watched all of it, until it
was time to suit up and go out hunting.
       "We'll head out onto the distant ice where the icerugs don't go,"
declared Katrina. "That way we'll not deprive them of any food." Deirdre
thought grimly that lack of food was not one of the icerug nation's particular
problems, just now, but she agreed. The three humans stayed within sight of
each other as they moved away from _Victoria_ into a changed countryside. The
frozen drifts and scoured, icy hillocks glittered with freshly fallen snow.
Scattered about were tiny bits of weed, broken shells of minute beauty, stalks
of seaweed from twig-size to tree-size, strange sea creatures of every size
and shape, and, inevitably, coelasharks. They found a large mature specimen
just twenty minutes after leaving the ship, and they pounced upon the beast
with glee.
       Carefully avoiding the multiple rows of extremely sharp teeth, Katrina
pried open the jaw, and Cinnamon extracted the vermicysts and dropped them
into the sample bag Deirdre was holding. Then, as they had agreed beforehand,
Cinnamon, their ichthyologist, carefully sliced opened the great belly of the
creature to expose the interior. The three biologists stared eagerly at the
glistening vitals, Cinnamon exposing them with careful slices, while Katrina
used biopsy punches, scalpels, and shears to take samples and put them into
bags that Deirdre carefully labeled. All of them regretted that limits of
space prevented their carting back the whole coelashark.
       "Built much like an Earth fish," remarked Cinnamon. "Mostly swimming
muscle."
       "But look you, Cinnamon, at how these grand thick fibers support the
wee short legs. Considerable strength there."
       Cinnamon nodded in agreement and reached inside with a gloved hand.
"This is probably the gut, but what's this pouch here after the stomach?" She
squeezed it. "Pebbles inside. Possibly a gizzard for grinding up the big
chunks that the teeth bite off." She poked around some more. "Gills here.
Where's the heart? Hmmm. Looks like three hearts. Take one for a sample."
Katrina cut out and bagged a heart, while Cinnamon poked lower.
       "This must be the flotation bladder, but it's completely deflated."
       "I wonder. Did it collapse because of the fall? Or did the coelashark
empty it on purpose earlier?"
       "Here's something blobby that's full of blood -- probably functions
like the kidney or liver or both. I'll take a sample of that, too."
       "But is it male, or female, or neither?"
       "I don't see a recognizable reproductive organ," puzzled Cinnamon. "But
I may be looking in the wrong place. "In an male octopus, the sex organ is in
the tip of one of the eight tentacles -- like having a penis for a finger. For
all we know, this coelashark could have a penis in its right front flipper."
At the thought, she looked carefully at the construction of all four legs of
the coelashark. They were identical. Katrina cut one leg off and Deirdre
bagged it after looking at it carefully.
       "The bottoms of the feet are rough and show cuts, as though they've
been abraded recently."
       Together, and working with practiced ease, they thoroughly dissected
the fast freezing flesh, but without finding any clue as to the animal's
sexuality. Lastly, they cut off the head, and used a battery-powered bone saw
to cut it in half down the middle to reduce the weight, while keeping
representative samples of the brain, eyes, and hearing organs.
       "Terrible small brain cavity," remarked Deirdre as she bagged the half
head, with its half of a brain showing.
       "More bone than brain," agreed Cinnamon. Finally Deirdre stood up.
       "Right. We've got bits of the beast in plenty, but nothing that seems




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to be involved in reproduction. Perhaps one of the organs we're seeing is not
what we think."
       Together they loaded the samples into an insulated carrying case, and
started back to the _Victoria_, leaving the remains of the coelashark on the
ice. No icerug was in sight, and soon the still-falling sleet and snow covered
the stiffening carcass.
       On the way back, Deirdre's long sight glimpsed another large object
some distance away, and she hurried over to examine it. A little closer she
slowed down; the object was evidently another coelashark, but this one was in
poor condition.
       "Must have been ejected a few weeks ago," thought Deirdre. "Decay is
advancing nicely." The body of the fish had softened in outline and looked
pulpy. There was a sort of greenish-brown, seaweed-colored pus oozing from
several places in the flesh, and only a biologist would have used the word
'nicely'. She looked at the spectacle with detached interest and curiosity,
and then the hair on the back of her neck tingled with the strangest of
thoughts; how, in this land of perpetual snow and frost, could the coelashark
be decaying? With scrupulous care, she collected a sample of the pus and a
portion of the less rotten flesh, and returned to the others. As they hurried
back to _Victoria_, she presented them with the question that was baffling
her: why was the coelashark decaying at all? The bits and pieces of the one
they had dissected were already freezing solid, but the isolated specimen she
had found, untouched for some time, was rotting. Cinnamon was as puzzled as
Deirdre by the phenomenon, but Katrina put it aside.
       "We'll know a lot more when I can get these samples under the tunneling
array microscope," she assured them confidently. "We'll get all the answers
then."
       Deirdre shook her head. "It's a touching faith you have, in your
equipment, Katrina. And terrible good it is, too, on showing us _what_. Yet
it's at a bit of a loss, is it not, at telling us _why_?"
       David monitored their transfer through the airlock. Deirdre handed him
her collection of sample bags to store in the Christmas Branch's cold storage
container while she took off her exploration suit.
       "This looks like a bag of gacky pus," remarked David, holding it up to
the light. "I've never seen an uglier color in my life."
       "It _is_ pus," said Deirdre coolly. "And to a biologist, no color is
ugly."
         ****
As the time for the expected largest eruption neared, the three biologists
talked with the flouwen about the advisability of another expedition to the
sea bottom.
       "We'd like to have you watch the behavior of the coelasharks," said
Cinnamon. "To try to understand how many of them are affected by the worms and
commit suicide. The parasites can't make _all_ the coelasharks do it, or soon
there would be no hosts for future generations of worms. There must be some
coelasharks that are resistant and engage in reproductive behavior -- and the
time of the highest tides might be the trigger -- as it is for many ocean
dwellers on Earth. Perhaps you can catch them in the act."
       "But it's really dangerous," worried Katrina. "The big coelasharks are
very strong, but _they_ get caught in those eruptions and killed."
       *Coelasharks DUMB!* scoffed Little Red.
       #Yes, they are,# agreed Little Purple. #Mean, and strong, but stupid.#
       "You must keep in contact through the sonar-radio transponder link at
all times," insisted Katrina. "And take extremely good care not to get into a
battle with the coelasharks. Even if you didn't get hurt, it might distract
you from the danger of the eruption."
       "Besides, you've a serious job to do down there," said Cinnamon
soothingly. "We want you to watch the coelasharks who _don't_ go near the
geyser, and see if any of them are pairing off, or chasing each other without
trying to bite, or producing eggs, or small replicas of themselves."




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       The instructions and warnings continued all the time the flouwen were
suiting up. Thomas and Josephine had calculated that the Dragonfly had just
two hours to take the flouwen to the lake, put them in the water, and fly to
safety beyond the reach of this highest eruption.
       Arielle was adamant about the timing of this mission: "Fish, rocks,
seaweed, all _kinds_ of junk fall out there! I not like dents in Dragonfly!"
The flight to the seashore was uneventful, and as the humans and flouwen
exited the airlock, they paused briefly, to look at the flat dark water. Its
surface was covered with brash ice, pocked with small irregular plates of
frozen sleet. A fine, powdery mist of ice-dust blew around them in the wind,
and when a small clot of the stuff hit the water, it melted slowly and
reluctantly. There was no fresh snow falling, just then, but the eruption
would change that. Still chattering cautions, Katrina helped the others ease
the flouwen into the sluggish water, while Shirley and Sam threw an expendable
sonar-radio transponder out into the lake.
       "And mind you keep sending those reports! I want to hear your voices
every minute!"
       *Tired of hearing _yours_,* said Little Red rudely, but Little White
said, ^We understand. Report begins when we get there,^ and Katrina was
satisfied with that.
       The flouwen checked their communications link through the transponder,
and then headed for the depths. The humans reboarded the _Dragonfly_, which
headed off to a safe distance, with the biologists keeping contact with the
flouwen through the commsat link to the transponder.
         ****
Back at _Victoria_, Richard suited up and went out across the basalt knob to
visit Pink-Orb, who had moved out near the knob to be closer to his human
colleague. It was nearly two hours to midnight, and Gargantua was approaching
full moon phase. On the illuminated face of the giant planet was a circular
shadow moving slowly toward the center of the giant planet. Richard made his
way to the area that Pink-Orb now occupied, and stepped onto the carpet to let
the alien know that he had arrived. He could hear a deep rumble from off in
the dimly-lit distance, and his suit imp translated it for him.
       "Richard. You have come as you promised. I will meet you in the middle
of my carpet."
       Richard felt the carpet lift beneath him, and bending his knees
slightly to keep his balance, he was borne off on a wave. Soon he could see
the central node of the icerug coming toward him, gliding over its rolling sea
of flesh on its pedestal. As the human and the alien came together, the alien
reached out to touch Richard with a tentacle, as if to reassure itself that
Richard was really there. It was the first time that Richard could recall an
icerug touching a human. Instead of letting go, the icerug held onto Richard's
hand as the ugly lump on the end of its eye stalk stared blindly upward at the
massive planet hanging overhead.
       "Has the shadow of the Far-God appeared on the face of the Night-God
yet?"
       "Yes," replied Richard. "Zouave's shadow has started across the surface
and soon will be one-third the way toward the center of Gargantua."
       "Then shortly we should see the little shadow of the Near-God appear,"
said Pink-Orb with certainty.
       Shortly after, Richard saw a tiny bite being taken out of the giant
planet. "Here it comes," he said, as the bite turned into a circle. It's only
a little more than half the size of Zouave's shadow. But it's moving a lot
faster."
       Manannan geyser, which had been grumbling noisily off in the distance,
now raised its gushing tower higher. Richard was tempted to pull his hand
loose from Pink-Orb's tentacle to get his sextant, but forbore for the alien's
sake.
       "Where are the two moon shadows now?" asked Pink-Orb some time later.
       "Zouave's shadow is now nearly two-thirds the way to the center, while




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Zuni's shadow is one-third," reported Richard.
       "Then look for another shadow," said Pink-Orb. "That will be the shadow
of Ice."
       The shadow of Zulu quickly moved onto the now fully illuminated face of
Gargantua toward the center, rapidly catching up with the slower moving
shadows that had preceded it. The phrase "Racing with the moon..." came
unbidden to Richard's mind.
       "Zulu's shadow is significantly larger than Zouave's," remarked
Richard. "I thought Zulu was slightly smaller in diameter than Zouave."
       "It is," replied Pink-Orb. "But you forget that Barnard is not a point
source of light. The shadows of the moons you see on the Night-God are
cross-sections of the umbra -- the shadow cones behind each moon where Barnard
is in total eclipse. Although Ice initially forms a shadow cone with a smaller
diameter base than the Far-God, it is closer to the Night-God, so its shadow
cone is cut closer to its base, which produces a larger shadow."
       "Oh!" said Richard, finally realizing what the professor had been
trying to teach him in that "Astronomy for Geologists" course he had taken
long ago.
       The geyser now sounded a full-throated roar that continued to grow
louder and louder as the rising spout of boiling-hot water shot higher and
higher from the surface and into the upper atmosphere. Billowing steam clouds
occasionally blocked the view overhead, but through the clouds Richard could
see the conjunction rapidly coming to a climax.
       "The three shadows are all approaching the center," he reported. "Their
shadows are beginning to merge ... they are just one elongated shadow now ...
_conjunction_!" His exclamation was nearly drowned out by the steady roar from
Manannan. Richard's hand hurt, and he suddenly realized that Pink-Orb had been
squeezing it hard in excitement. He squeezed back, and Pink-Orb, realizing
that it had been holding onto the human all this time, quickly released its
grasp. Richard reached out, gently took the tentacle back into his hand, and
proceeded to narrate the rest of the three moon eclipse to his blind
companion.
          ****
Deep in Manannan Lake, the three flouwen swam strongly to the rocky bottom,
keeping up a running commentary on things they spotted of possible interest to
the listening biologists.
       *_Lots_ of weed, here. Hot water bubbling up through sand. Weeds full
of funny little fish. All mouth and eyes, not much tail.*
       "Weed-dwellers, I guess," said Cinnamon. "In relative safety, so they
don't need much but eyes and tail."
       #Small coelashark, there under rock,# mentioned Little Purple. #Came
out of hole, but went back quick.#
       "A solitary?" questioned Deirdre over the comm link from _Dragonfly_.
       #Wait. I look close.#
       The flouwen used a handy bit of stiff weed to poke exploratively into
the recess.
       #Just one. No sign of egg-things.#
       Little Purple had been curious about eggs, and Deirdre had explained to
the flouwen that eggs could come in peculiar shapes. The suit-clad aliens
continued their search and met several small coelasharks, circling a thick
tuft of sea grass. They paused to watch, and detected within the weeds a fat
round-bodied creature somewhat like a newt. It was obviously the prey of the
small coelasharks, and the only question was -- could one of them succeed in
taking it without injury from its competitors. Suddenly, the largest of the
three darted in and seized the small lizard in its teeth, gulping frantically
as it fled for safety. However, taking advantage of the fact that the captor's
teeth were occupied, the disappointed pair lunged after it and bit viciously
at the flailing tail.
       *Hunh! These things _never_ cooperate!* observed Little Red. *They
_always_ fight!*




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       As they wandered closer to the major volcanic vent fields on the side
of the underwater sea mount that surrounded Manannan geyser, the water around
the flouwen began to move up slope.
       Simultaneously there came an announcement from Katrina: "The next
eruption is beginning. Be sure to place yourselves in a secure position." The
aliens moved to find something interesting to watch during the eruption.
Little Purple was lucky enough to spot a rough-faced rock with holes in it, in
which two coelashark heads were visible. They seemed unaware of each other,
but Little Purple intended to stay close by, to see if the pair engaged in any
kind of mating behavior.
       Little Red watched the approach of a large coelashark, with a missing
right rear leg. As it moved into the region of stronger currents, the
coelashark sank to the floor of the ocean, picked up a ballast stone with its
tentacles, and proceeded on three stubby legs. Little Red remembered seeing
that behavior before, and decided to follow discreetly, picking up a ballast
rock of his own as he did so. Perhaps this walking mode signified a behavioral
change related to reproduction.
       Little White found a solitary coelashark in a small enclosed haven
among the rocks, waving its tail in determined passes over the surface. Having
been warned by Cinnamon to look for this "nestmaking" behavior, Little White
wedged himself between two rocks and settled down to watch. Though the water,
the rumbling sound of the erupting geyser grew louder.
       Gradually and slowly, but with never a pause in the increasing tug, the
up-slope flow of the water pulled on the forms of all the myriad creatures of
the sea floor. Uprooted tufts of grass and weed began to tumble slowly along,
and small, darting fish began to work at heading away from the current. Little
Purple, secure behind a barrier of rock, saw the two coelasharks he had been
observing withdraw deeper into their sanctuaries, still paying no attention to
each other. Little White's tail-wagging specimen suddenly twisted head to
tail, and the savage mouth opened and seized the desperately wriggling legged
shellfish which had tried to escape by burrowing into the sand.
       ^Not egg-laying. Just more eating.^ concluded Little White through his
suit imp.
       The large three-legged coelashark still continued its ponderous march
up slope, and Little Red thought himself unobserved, until the massive head
suddenly swerved, and shot a bitterly hostile glare at the flouwen.
       "When you're close enough, monster, I'll tear you apart!"
       Little Red recoiled, but only for an instant. *Ho! _You_ the monster!
Even uglier than the others, with only three legs!* Swapping of insults was
something Little Red secretly enjoyed, and he increased his speed to continue
the exchange.
       "I lost a leg, but the other lost more than that! I was hungry that
time. Nothing was left but a blob of bloody water. And, speaking of bloody
blobs..." The four tentacles dropped the ballast rock and the coelashark
lunged with spasmodic speed at Little Red, who slithered adroitly out of
reach. The tug of the water was strong, now, and the coelashark's three legs
dug into the sand in the effort to control its pace, as it regained its rock.
Little Red's powerful body flexed within his suit, as he strove to stay equal
with, but not too close to his adversary.
       "Brainless blob! One good slurp and you'll be part of my gut!"
       *Stupid _and_ ugly! All mouth and no brains!*
       To either side of them, small coelasharks occasionally appeared, in
frantic flight from the steadily increasing pull of the geyser. But the big
coelashark, with its flouwen escort, continued to move steadily up the
seamount in the direction of the geyser. Little Red had mentally shelved the
question of why any of the coelasharks avoided this lemming-like march,
determined to find a way to make the foul-mouthed creature reveal, in some
fashion, why it was so bent on suicide.
       *Got worms in your ugly mouth! They crawling and itching? Hunting for
your brain?*




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       The coelashark ignored Little Red's words and continued to plod upward.
The time of the peak tide was close at hand, and the geyser burst into its
full-throated roar. The up-slope current surged stronger and Little Red was in
the process of exchanging his ballast rock for a larger one, when suddenly the
coelashark said calmly, "I must go." The giant fish deliberately dropped its
ballast rock and allowed itself to be drawn rapidly up slope into the geyser.
       Little Red, surprised by this behavior, and hampered by his suit,
fumbled the exchange of rocks he had been attempting, and found himself with
no ballast at all, being drawn helplessly up slope behind the coelashark.
       *The geyser! I'm caught in the geyser! Help!* Hearing the cry for help,
the suit imp activated the combined sonar and radio distress signal mechanism
on the flouwen's drysuit.
       Little Red realized that the pace at which he was being sucked up the
submarine mount meant he had only seconds before he would be drawn into the
boiling hot water of the geyser itself, and he must save himself if he could.
He unzipped his suit and poured himself free, leaving the signaling device to
continue its alarm. Once in the familiar coolness of the sea, Little Red
assumed his most efficient swimming shape and headed both down-slope against
the current and outward toward the surface, trying to get to the surface
layers of water forming the cooler shell of the spout. Perhaps he would be
lucky enough to break out of the geyser column at a point where he could surf
down the side to safety.
       With growing alarm, he realized the returns from his frantic sonar
chirps indicated that while the surface of the water was only slowly getting
closer, the sea bottom was rapidly getting further away. He was rising rapidly
up inside the geyser! Desperately, Little Red fought his way to the surface
and burst into the alien air. Blind now, his sonar useless, and his vision
lenses left behind in the suit, he had no idea how far up he was, but he knew
he was falling -- and falling -- and falling.
       He spread himself into a canopy, hoping to catch enough of the thin air
to slow his descent. Dismayed, he felt his speed increasing. He could only
hope that the suit was broadcasting his plight.
       "Emergency Message!" Thomas's imp shouted in his ear. Coming over the
emergency channel into _Victoria_'s communication center was the repeating,
mechanical voice of a suit imp.
       "Mayday! Little Red needs help! Mayday!"
       Thomas activated the radio direction-finders on the console before him
and instantly understood the problem when he saw that the suit was
broadcasting from a point nearly a kilometer above the lake.
       "All personnel! Emergency! Look upward along the geyser! Little Red was
caught! Watch where he falls!"
       "I see him!" shouted David from the viewing lounge below. "My God, it
looks like he's ... hang-gliding!"
       "I see him too!" called in Richard from his position on Pink-Orb's
carpet. "He's going over me at about a half-kilometer up. He should land on
the ice somewhere beyond _Victoria_."
       Although Little Red had spread his considerable mass almost
tissue-thin, and had used the slight amount of lift that he thus obtained to
get himself clear of the geyser, he could not capture enough air to slow his
descent much. Little Red, with his superior IQ and intimate knowledge of fluid
flows, knew all about hydrodynamic instabilities forced by steady flows
between fluids of different densities, and knew exactly what was happening to
his dense fluid body as it started to flutter uncontrollably in the
increasingly strong wind passing by it, and knew precisely when he would start
to break up into blobs and even roughly how big the pieces would be -- but
there was nothing he could do about it.
       The body of Little Red fell to the surface in dozens of blobs of red
jelly scattered widely over the crusted snow. The blobs were not large enough
to be intelligent, so the personality of Little Red was gone. Fortunately, the
blobs were sentient enough to protect themselves by rocking up their surfaces




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to prevent liquid loss, while conserving the ammonia from those tissues inside
the hardened surface. The outside layers of cells soon froze, but the
ammonia-water mixture bathing the cells in the inside of each blob had a
freezing point that even the coldest night on Zulu could not reach.
       Arielle flung the _Dragonfly_ in the direction of the distress signal
at top speed. Shirley activated the infrared scanners in the viewing ports on
each side, and she and Joe looked for telltale warm spots on one side of the
plane, while Sam and Joe looked on the other side.
       "I see a number of small warm spots on my side," reported Sam. "In a
large oval-shaped region, about a half-kilometer wide and a kilometer long."
       "How many spots?" asked Shirley, not really wanting to know.
       "Forty-two large ones," replied Joe.
       "Drop us off here, Arielle," said Sam, putting his finger on the touch
screen in front of him. "Then go get the others."
       Arielle glanced at her navigation display, with its green blotch
indicating the place, grunted assent, and the _Dragonfly_ headed for the spot.
       "We'll need something to carry the pieces in," said Katrina. "I'll get
out the large size sample bags."
       "After we get in the airlock, have the airlock imp squirt in a little
ammonia water in the bags. It'll help keep the pieces alive," added Cinnamon.
       "We'll be needing something bigger, to recombine all the pieces," added
Deirdre. "I'll break out a rescue bag. That should be big enough."
       The _Dragonfly_ fluttered to a halt and disgorged five suited figures,
who spread out away from the airplane, which lifted into the sky and headed
for the lander on the distant horizon.
       At the _Victoria_, George, Thomas, David quickly suited up and slid
down the winch rope to the surface, while Richard stretched his long legs to
cover the ground between Pink-Orb's area and the waiting _Dragonfly_ as fast
as possible. They clambered into the open airlock and the plane took off again
immediately. Inside the airlock the airlock imp was securing a partially open
rescue bag to some handholds and squirting in ammonia-water.
       Once at the site, they joined the others, spreading out methodically in
hopes of reaching the shattered alien while its fragments still survived.
Arielle went aloft, where Joe operated the infrared scanners and directed the
search crew through their imps. Very soon there was a triumphant shout from
Richard.
       "I've found a big chunk!"
       He put the crusty blob of red jelly into the sample bag, where it
quickly dissolved in the ammonia water. Sheets of dead surface tissue
fluttered to the bottom of the bag, but most of the red blob was now fluid and
active.
       *WOW! FLY!*
       "And it's alive!"
       That put new heart into the others; they knew that Little Red could be
restored, a small piece at a time. Bit by bit, directed by Joe from above,
they picked up more blobs. Soon they each had one or more, and Arielle dove
down to the surface and flew along the search line. As she hovered to a halt
near each searcher, the living contents of the sample bags were emptied into
the waiting rescue bag where they instantly joined together, becoming more and
more Little Red as the blob of red jelly grew in size.
       *I fly!* came a reasonable imitation of Little Red's voice out of the
rescue bag.
       "You crashed, is more like it," replied Cinnamon, as she dumped her
second bag into the waiting container. "There are still dozens of pieces of
you scattered all across the countryside."
       *Find me! Find all of me!* the red blob called out. Then after a long
pause, a much quieter voice asked, *Please?*
       "Reiki's lessons on _Prometheus_ must have sunk in," muttered Cinnamon,
but the magic word worked, and she returned to the cold and tedious task of
searching the ice with new vigor.




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       It would take time, and the collection of many more of Little Red's
blobs of tissue to restore the alien to his former strength and intelligence,
but it would be done. The humans headed out to the farther reaches of Little
Red's calamity, to find and rescue still more of his shattered flesh. The
force of his crash had spread his body over a wide area, and the humans were
soon out of sight of each other, although all could see the _Dragonfly_
overhead.
       Bending over, intent upon the ground, Deirdre was suddenly shocked to
see booted footprints in the snow in front of her! Her Irish bones knew an
instant of superstitious fear, and then she laughed. She was standing in the
area of the snow they had come "fishing" in previously -- for freshly-killed
coelasharks. Now, as she looked about, she saw again the shapeless lump of the
decaying coelashark -- she had left a marker there, to investigate later if
she had the chance. She walked over to inspect it, and was startled again.
There was no trace of coelashark, decaying or otherwise. But there _was_ an
icerug! It was the smallest she had yet seen.
       Quickly she looked about her, searching for this infant's parent, but
there was nothing in sight. With luck, she would have time to inspect the
little one carefully before its guardian returned. She began the soft wordless
crooning that worked so well to calm a frightened animal, from a panicky
Rocheworld rogue to an agitated Foxx in free fall. Slowly the clutching
tentacles of the icerug node stopped their searching gyration, and fastened
firmly around her gloved hand, and the eye regarded her with seeming interest.
       With the other hand, Deirdre gently probed the dense velvety foliage of
its carpet, and lifted up its edges. This tiny icerug seemed to be completely
unattached to the ice.
       "Hey there, little one ... where's your mum, hmm? Left you out here ...
huh? Didums? Wuzza wugga icewuggy..."
       As she made absent minded baby-talk, she delicately and slowly handled
the alien, peering closely at the fine fibers that gave it its velvet texture.
They were each a greenish-brown seaweed color, but the whole collection of
them seemed darker, due to the light-absorbing properties of the fiber array.
The single large eye of the node portion was more brown in color, like kelp.
Finally, she straightened, wincing a little as her chilled backbone moved
erect.
       "Well, better go find more of Little Red ... keep cool, little one."
       With a final pat to the surface of the tiny icerug, she strode briskly
away over the crusted snow, feeling with pleasure the warmth returning as she
stretched her long legs. As she searched the snow ahead of her for red blobs,
moving her head from side to side in a deliberate search pattern, a movement
behind her caught her eye, and she turned abruptly.
       What was that? A dark shape on the ice, small, but moving, and coming
closer. With mounting dismay, Deirdre realized the small icerug was following
her!
       "Oh, drat the thing..." She stopped, and the small icerug silently
flowed up to stop at her feet, its large brown eye looking at her hopefully.
       "Here now, get off with you! Daft beastie." No hint of gentleness now
in the singing voice, only coldness and dismissal. "Off! Off with you! Back to
mama! Or whoever! Sssscat!"
       Deirdre turned and started to move away as fast as she dared over the
crusted snow.
       _Wwaaoo! Wwaaoo!! Wwaaoo!!!_
       Behind her, a hideous deep wailing arose, like a warbling fog horn, and
she stopped, uncertain. Quickly the icerug caught up with her and the dreadful
noise it was making quieted.
       "Damn! As if I didn't have enough to worry about! I've no time for
baby-sitting carpets. Go home, blast you!"
       She moved off again, but it was instantly evident that there was no way
she could escape the small creature which seemed to have imprinted itself upon
her. She stopped, and glared fiercely into its one huge eye, but it only




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seemed to take this as encouragement, and wrapped itself around her legs,
gazing up at her trustfully.
       "Blasted terry cloth mutant," she muttered under her breath. "An' they
say you all are sentient beasties."
       She reported her predicament to the _Dragonfly_ through the comm link.
       "I would really like to get a sample of an infant icerug," came
Katrina's voice. "Can we come and pick you both up?"
       "It may be small, but it's too big to fit into the airlock," replied
Deirdre.
       "Besides," added George. "Our primary responsibility is to finish
collecting the rest of Little Red."
       "Well, I'm of no help, now, with this blasted creature always under my
feet," complained Deirdre.
       "We're almost done," suggested Sam. "Why don't the rest of us continue
the search for Little Red, while Deirdre walks the baby icerug back to the
rocket. We'll meet her there."
       Deirdre agreed, although the prospect of spending hours alone walking
across this slippery and unfriendly terrain was not attractive.
       "And heaven knows what will happen if this carpet's mum finds out I've
run off with her child..."
--------
         *CHAPTER 14 -- EXPLAINING*
       Thomas, having pumped the diminished Little Red out of the rescue bag
and into the flouwen habitat on _Victoria_, was venting the spilled ammonia
water out the open airlock door, when he looked down and saw Deirdre at the
base of the Jacob's ladder. Thomas slid down the winch line to stare at
Deirdre's curious companion.
       "Where did you get _that_?" he asked.
       "I found it alone out on the ice, and it followed me here," was the
terse reply. The brief answer was so chilly it did not invite further
questions, but Thomas broke into gleeful laughter.
       "_That_ old story!"
       "Obviously the immature specimens of the icerug species exhibit the
imprinting instinct common in many Terran species, particularly those whose
young must be mobile at an early age," came the retort, in tones so cold
Thomas was shunted back to years and light-years ago, when a similar voice had
caught him daydreaming and asked that since he seemed to know so much already,
perhaps he would care to demonstrate the next problem on the board.
       "Erm, yes, right," he stammered, "Of course." Deirdre went in the
_Dragonfly_ to get out of her suit and put Foxx into her cage. Soon, however,
at everyone's insistence, she had to suit up again and go back outside, where
the small icerug was warbling loudly and trying to get inside the airlock
door.
       "Poor widdle thing!" Thomas was saying to the icerug as she exited the
air lock. "Awl awone out in da cold. Mommy will be coming soon..."
       "A stupid creature, indeed," Deirdre muttered as she exited the
airlock, forgetting how the suit imps magnified everything that was said. No
one could be sure whether she meant the alien or Thomas.
       Now she sat stonily on an upturned sample container while the icerug
rumbled about her feet. One by one, others of the crew came out to view the
tiny icerug and, to her ire, congratulate Deirdre on her "new baby".
       The minute David saw the creature he blurted in astonishment, "Say!
That icerug is _exactly_ the same ugly color as that gacky pus sack you
brought back last time! Couldn't you find something prettier?"
       Deirdre was surprised that David saw a resemblance in color, but she
didn't question his judgement -- the whole crew knew that David's color sense
was as true as his pitch sense. Instead she turned to Katrina, the last to
arrive to see the young icerug.
       "Katrina?" she said. "I found this icerug in the same place where I
picked up the bit of pus, from the decaying coelashark. _And_, David says they




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have exactly the same color. I think we might compare a sample of this wee
beastie with that pus sample."
       As Katrina approached, the young icerug shuffled around, making room
for her. Katrina knelt, and while gently stroking the icerug's carpet, she
teased out a small portion of the velvet flesh until it was attached to the
main carpet by only a thread. The huge brown eye watched her trustingly, then
the six-leaved nictating membrane blinked as Katrina gave the carpet a spank
while simultaneously snipping through the thread with a pair of scissors --
but the infant didn't utter a sound.
       "What have you named it?" she asked, gently ruffling the fur where she
had caused the injury.
       "It's not to be named. It must go back to its mother, or tribe, or
whatever the icerugs have."
       "With its seaweed-colored carpet and its kelp-colored eye, I think you
should call it Kelpie," said Katrina, standing up with her now-filled sample
bag, and tickling the alien with her boot.
       "Huh," was Deirdre's reply. According to Celtic mythology, Kelpies were
sea sprites who tried to drown unwary travelers. _This_ kelpie was trying to
freeze Deirdre instead. When daylight came, Deirdre led the infant across the
knob to the local association of icerugs nearby. It was with immense relief
that she saw the infant instantly transfer to Smooth-Brown, the teacher for
the local association, and Deirdre was able to drift away and return to the
_Dragonfly_.
       When Deirdre emerged from her shower, Katrina had some news for her.
       "The gene patterns on the baby icerug cells are _identical_ to those on
the pus cells! That baby icerug seems to have spontaneously generated itself
from a dead coelashark! Maybe the Surgeon General was right!"
       "Daft, y'are," reproved Deirdre.
       "Maybe icerugs lay their eggs in dead coelasharks, like wasps do in
caterpillars," suggested David.
       "An idea, that," said Deirdre. "For we know that coelasharks have
something in them which forces them to turn into dead coelasharks. Something
that quite likely came from an icerug. The worms in the vermicysts."
       "I see!" exclaimed Katrina. "The icerugs send out zygotes -- embryo
icerugs -- which infect the coelasharks, driving them to suicide, so the
zygotes can have enough food to grow up into big new icerugs."
       "But that cannot be the whole story," objected Deirdre. "Why then do
the icerugs remove the vermicysts whenever they find a dead coelashark -- and
_eat_ them? Why don't they just leave the dead coelashark alone to turn into a
new icerug?"
       They discussed their findings with Cinnamon on _Victoria_.
       "We need more facts," concluded Cinnamon. "Up until now, we've
concentrated on collecting samples, not analyzing them. I think we'd better
start looking closely at some of our samples and comparing them -- especially
our samples of icerugs, coelasharks, and worms. Maybe there's a link we're
missing."
       "The sample of pus had some coelashark tissue in with it," said
Katrina. "I'll take a look at that."
       "And I'll use the microscope here on _Victoria_ to take a look at the
worms in the vermicysts we collected," said Cinnamon.
       "And I'll be cooking something to eat," said Deirdre. "Let me know what
you find."
       The bleak surroundings turned her thoughts to soup, and quickly she
sizzled tiny bits of onion and pseudo-bacon in algae-butter until they were
fragrant. They had long ago learned that small pieces of the mock-foods tasted
closer to the real thing than did large chunks. She chopped potatoes into neat
cubes, cooked them rapidly, and added them to the pot along with algae-cream,
which she insisted on calling "top o'the milk", and stirred and simmered the
mixture until it was thick enough to stand a spoon in upright. Then she added
lavish amounts of real chopped clam meat from the Blue Oyster Culture. Deirdre




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ground fresh pepper over her creamy chowder, and ladled generous bowls for
herself and the others. The hot, richly satisfying meal awoke generous
thoughts in Richard, and he had the Christmas Branch pack portions in an
insulated carton for the crew on _Victoria_ and take them over to put in the
galley.
       It was Cinnamon who reported back first. "Whatever those worms are in
the vermicyst, they certainly _aren't_ icerugs. They don't have the right
cellular structure. They only have a one-knobbed basic cell structure, with a
large banded tail growing out of the cell for swimming about."
       "Strange, is that," replied Deirdre, coming forward look at the image
of Cinnamon's worm on the science console screen. "Everything else on Zulu has
a two-knobbed basic cellular structure."
       "Perhaps I chose a defective one," said Cinnamon. She directed the imp
in the microscope stage to replace the worm with another one. "Nope," she
said, as the image built up. "Another one-knobber instead of two."
       "A half-sized cell instead of a whole-sized one," remarked David, who
had a copy of Cinnamon's screen on his console.
       "Hmmm," added Cinnamon. "Am I right, Josephine? Is the genetic pattern
on this one different?"
       "Very observant, dearie. It _is_ different."
       "But, look there, the band pattern on the tail is the same," said
Deirdre. "That would indicate a common genetic heritage in the tail-banding
gene. Look at another one."
       Scanning a number of worms from the vermicyst, the biologists learned
that there were two kinds of worms, and only two.
       "Half-sized cells that come with two different genetic messages,"
Deirdre mused.
       "That certainly sounds familiar," said Cinnamon. "I'd better take a
look at the genetic patterns of the coelashark that harbored that vermicyst."
       Taking a sample from the liver-like organ of the coelashark, she gave
it to _Victoria_'s Christmas Branch, who took it to the micro-surgical stage.
There, a single cell was teased out and transferred to the microscope stage.
Cinnamon then set up the desired scan pattern on her screen, and Josephine
started scanning the tunneling array across the surface of the cell.
       "That'll take a while," said Cinnamon, getting up and heading for the
galley. "I think I'll have an early lunch."
       #I watch scan,# said Little Purple from the flouwen habitat tank. On
his taste-screen was a copy of Cinnamon's screen.
       Cinnamon was halfway through a bowl of chowder, listening to "Knights
In White Satin" through her imp earphones, when a crackly flouwen voice
exploded in the middle of the second chorus.
       #It is _same_! Worm and coelashark _same_!#
       Cinnamon twisted one hand next to her earphones and the music of the
Blue Oyster Cult faded away. Still carrying the bowl, she went to the science
console where Josephine was proceeding with the imaging scan. The screen
showed only a small portion of the surface of the coelashark cell, with more
detail showing up slowly as the tunneling array microscope moved across the
surface. The high resolution screen showed a complex pattern on the surface --
the genetic code of the coelashark. As she sat down at the console, Josephine
brought her and Deirdre up to date.
       "Little Purple believes that the genetic code pattern on this liver
cell is identical to that on the worm."
       "I would suspect that all life forms on Zulu have similar patterns for
many of their functions, so it isn't surprising that the patterns would be
_similar_," said Cinnamon. "How does he know they're _identical_?"
       #I remember,# said Little Purple with confidence. #This bit is pattern
for length of leg. It is same on worm. Worm and coelashark same.#
       "You remembered?" exclaimed Cinnamon, stunned again by the magnitude of
the IQ of the flouwen. "Is he right, Josephine?"
       "Yes, dearie. The genetic pattern on the single-knobbed cell of the




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worm is identical to _one_ of the knobs on the double-lobed cell of the
coelashark."
       "But how about the other knob?"
       "That is identical to the worms in the vermicyst who have the other
genetic pattern."
       "So," remarked Deirdre, her green eyes wide with discovery. "One wee
worm is just like one-half of a coelashark cell, while the other is just like
the other half. The coelashark has a diploid cell carrying two different
copies of the genetic pattern, while the wee worms are monoploid -- carrying
only half of the genetic information of the coelashark."
       "The worms in the vermicyst are the _sperm_ of the coelashark,"
exclaimed Cinnamon.
       "Or _eggs_," corrected Deirdre. "Or something neither sperm or egg. We
cannot assume earth-like attributes for alien creatures."
       "What's going on?" asked Sam, who had wandered by.
       "We've found the sex organ for this coelashark," replied Cinnamon.
"It's the vermicyst." She quickly explained what they had learned.
       Sam chuckled, "So when an icerug eats a vermicyst, it's like a cowboy
eating a prairie 'oyster'."
       "But," said Cinnamon. "We don't know how it is used, or where it goes
into the receiving coelashark, or how it produces more coelasharks, or why it
makes icerugs sick, or why icerugs eat them in the first place."
       "Perhaps the icerug contributes by disseminating the sperm cells over a
wide area," suggested Sam.
       "Questions we have," Deirdre concluded. "Facts are harder to come by.
The truth may be far stranger than we can guess."
       Katrina finally looked up from her console, where she had been imaging
the cells of the coelashark that had produced the pus and the infant icerug.
       "I've learned something else that may help. It took me a while, since I
chose the wrong half of the coelashark cell to scan first, but now it's
clear." Deirdre's screen blinked as the image she had been looking at was
replaced by the contents of Katrina's screen. There were two images of two
double-knobbed cells.
       "On the top of the screen is a cell from the pus, which is exactly the
same as a cell from the baby icerug that Deirdre caught."
       "It caught me," objected Deirdre.
       "On the bottom of the screen is a cell from the coelashark that
produced the pus and the baby icerug. Note that both patterns on the two
halves of the icerug cell are the same, as is typical for an icerug cell,
while the patterns on the two halves of the coelashark cell are different, as
is typical for a coelashark cell. _But_ ... the pattern on one half of the
coelashark cell is _identical_ to the baby icerug pattern. So, the genetic
pattern that defines what an icerug is, also exists in the coelashark cell --
at least half of it. That baby icerug _did_ spontaneously generate itself --
from its dead parent."
       "Or half-parent," remarked Deirdre. "Curiouser and curiouser. Well,
that explains where baby icerugs come from -- they don't come from momma and
papa icerugs -- which is why the icerugs know nothing of reproduction. But,
then, where do baby coelasharks come from?"
       *Look at worm I find!* interrupted Little Red from the habitat tank on
_Victoria_. *It not have one knob. It have two!*
       "He's right!" exclaimed Deirdre. "It did have two knobs. Where is that
vent worm?"
       "I've got the image in memory," said Katrina. "Let's see ... what did I
label it?"
       "I've got it, luv," said Joe helpfully, and instantly a two-knobbed
worm appeared on their screens.
       "That worm _is_ different from the ones I looked at from the
vermicyst," said Cinnamon. "Mine have a one-knobbed cell and this vent worm
has two."




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       *Worm is baby coelashark!* said Little Red.
       "I was saying at the time the vent worm had a larger head," said
Deirdre. "But it was hard to be sure since the video enlargements had such
poor resolution. The beasties are mostly tail anyway."
       "It _did_ have identical banding on the tail," said Katrina.
       "Which shows that it came from the vermicyst I videoed," said Deirdre.
"But this wee one has had something added to it. Perhaps added during its trip
through Pink-Orb."
       "We have a sample of Pink-Orb's flesh," Katrina said. "I never got
around to scanning it, though. I assumed it would be similar to the other
icerug samples I had already scanned. It's in the storage locker on
_Victoria_."
       "I'll get it out and take a look," said Cinnamon. A short while later,
a cell from Pink-Orb was teased out onto the microscope stage, and the
tunneling array microscope started to produce an image below the image of the
two-knobbed vent worm.
       *Same!* burst out Little Red.
       "How do you know?" exclaimed Katrina in surprise. "The scan has just
started."
       *Remember pattern.* Manipulating the icon on the edge of the taste
screen in the habitat tank, Little Red circled a small area on the two-knobbed
worm. Josephine expanded the circled area. Sure enough, the genetic pattern of
the two-knobbed vent worm was identical to the pattern the microscope had just
obtained from Pink-Orb's cell. It wasn't long before they also determined that
the genetic pattern on the other half of the vent worm cell had come from the
dead coelashark that had fallen on Pink-Orb, and from which Pink-Orb had
obtained the vermicyst.
       "The vent worm's genetic parents were _both_ an icerug and a
coelashark," remarked Katrina, slightly bewildered. "But because of its
diploid gene structure it was destined to grow up as a coelashark."
       "Somehow ... some way..." concluded Deirdre. "Pink-Orb fertilized that
worm. No wonder eating a vermicyst was pleasurable. Evolution would ensure
that it was so."
       "What's all the excitement?" asked Richard from the galley, yawning
widely as he heavily sugared his morning-shift coffee.
       "Sex," said Deirdre.
       "Kinky sex," said Cinnamon over the imp link.
       "Kinky rococo sex," added Katrina.
       "Sounds interesting," said Richard, taking a seat on a galley stool.
"Tell me all about it."
          ****
"So," concluded Deirdre. "If a mature coelashark with ripe vermicysts lands on
an icerug, the icerug swallows one of the vermicysts. Then, either the icerug
"fertilizes" the worm, or the monoploid worm takes a knob from an icerug cell.
In any case the single-knobbed, monoploid worm becomes a double-knobbed,
diploid worm, which is evacuated unharmed through the gut of the icerug into
the ocean, where it grows into a coelashark."
       "So that's how baby coelasharks are made," said Richard. "Now, how
about baby icerugs?"
       "If the coelashark lands on empty ice and dies, each of the
single-knobbed monoploid worms in the vermicyst grows from a single-knobbed
cell into a double-knobbed cell, but genetically it remains a monoploid since
it has only one set of gene patterns. The cells multiply then, as blobs of
undifferentiated slime, until one of the cells has consumed the coelashark
_and_ its cyst-mates, and turns into a big pool of pus made of double-knobbed
cells. At that stage it is not too different from a flouwen."
       *I not pool of pus!* objected Little Red, who had been listening from
inside the flouwen habitat.
       Deirdre continued. "The cells begin to differentiate, and specialize,
forming an icerug node, and the pool of pus turns into an icerug."




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       "And that's how baby icerugs are made," mused Richard. "So the
coelasharks and the icerugs are related."
       "Truly, icerugs and the coelasharks are not two different species --
despite their vastly different structures. They are just different aspects of
the same species.
       "Like males and females," suggested Richard. "Which is the male and
which is the female?"
       "More like caterpillars and butterflies," suggested Katrina.
       "Neither," said Deirdre firmly. "They are their own example -- an alien
example -- as we should accept without forcing them to fit our own notions."
       "I wonder..." mused Richard. "Which came first? The icerug or the
coelashark?"
         ****
When the three biologists explained to George what they had discovered about
the complex interrelated sex life of the icerugs and the coelasharks, he was
fascinated.
       "Well, that sure explains a lot," he said. "Why the coelasharks
committed suicide, and why the icerugs didn't know about reproduction. Now
that we know the reason they behave as they do, they don't seem quite as alien
as they used to." He paused to think some more, and shook his head. "Nope.
They are _still_ alien. I don't understand the war they had -- if you want to
call an all-out frontal suicide attack and a genocidal annihilation a war."
       "Although other reasons there may be, alien and unique, there is a
partial biological reason for that behavior," Deirdre replied. "The icerugs
are monoploids, and do not mix genes directly with other icerugs through joint
sex. Other icerugs are competitors for food, and unknowingly, sex partners.
So, there would be a genetically driven tendency to eliminate other icerugs
instead of cooperating with them."
       "Unless the other icerugs were very closely related, so that you shared
many of the same genes, as is probably true for these physically isolated
geyser communities," added Cinnamon.
       "I see ... I think," replied George. "But how does an icerug tell if
another icerug is related or not?"
       "Taste," said Katrina. "Remember the tasting ceremony that the Local
Association held for the foundling Green-Streak? If the little icerug had
failed that test, it would have been dinner instead of the latest addition to
the local nursery school."
       "We don't know that," reproved Deirdre. "Although I admit that it is a
logical supposition."
       "What we need to do," said Cinnamon hopefully. "Is to convince the
icerugs to trade vermicysts between nations. The hybrid vigor from outbreeding
would benefit all the icerugs, and in a few generations, everybody would taste
the same and there would be no more wars."
       "And thanks to the meddling, but kind-hearted humanfolk, the icerugs
live happily ever after," said Deirdre sarcastically.
         ****
The three biologists decided to go together to explain to the icerugs of
Windward City what they had learned about them and their relationship to the
coelasharks. Deirdre felt that self-knowledge about the way their species
reproduced would be welcome to the aliens. Katrina and Cinnamon hoped that the
information would lead to exchanges of vermicysts between nations, and
ultimately a more peaceful coexistence, but Deirdre's sardonic references to
"happily ever after" had convinced them to keep their suggestions along that
line to a minimum.
       Accordingly, they presented themselves to Green-Eye, the Convener of
the Center of Medical Studies, who gathered together a number of the lecturers
at the Center and their students. They all listened politely to Deirdre's
commendably brief description of their own life cycle. Cinnamon felt an aura
of disbelief, when Deirdre began, but sensed an exciting change in the
attitude of the icerugs as Katrina displayed microscopic images and other




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pictures on electrorase prints. Oddly, the really convincing pictures were the
color photographs of the decaying coelashark oozing pus and the infant icerug.
The icerug scientists studied them carefully, their highly discriminating
color sense enabling them to see that the pus and the infant were the same
color. This made it easier for their acceptance of the microscope images of
the individual cells taken from both, showing that they had identical genetic
patterns -- and that the decaying coelashark had indeed changed into an
icerug.
       They had more difficulty with the idea of being part of the
reproduction of the coelasharks, however, since the biologists had no photos
to show them, only microscopic images of "virgin" worms taken from a
vermicyst, and the single "pregnant" worm that Little Red had captured near
Pink-Orb's waste vent.
       "So, somewhere in the body of an icerug, the wee creature from the
vermicyst is changed from a single-knobbed cell, with only half of the genes
needed to make a coelashark, to a double-knobbed cell with a full complement
of coelashark genes. The second half of the gene set is obtained, in some
unknown fashion, from the icerug as the worm passes through. We cannot fathom
how, or where, or when, it is done."
       Cinnamon interpolated, "It is a mystery! Perhaps with further study,
you can discover the answer."
       "The altered worm leaves your body," continued Deirdre, "and swims to
the sea floor. Here, the worms who survive grow large and strong, and live out
their lives as coelasharks. As they mature, vermicysts form within them. At
the correct biological time, coinciding with a massive geyser eruption, the
coelasharks move instinctively towards the event which will cause their own
deaths -- but ensure the survival of their kind."
       "And that works, for them," said Cinnamon, "because if you icerugs find
the vermicysts and eat them, there will be more coelasharks. But it works for
you too, because if there are too few icerugs clustered around a geyser, the
coelashark does not land on an icerug and so the vermicysts stay inside. The
little worms then survive on their own, consuming the dead coelashark and each
other until the last grows into an infant icerug."
       "Which you find, and raise, and add to the community, thus increasing
the icerug population!" said Katrina triumphantly.
       There was a long silence as the icerugs considered what the three
humans had told them. Finally, Green-Eye broke the silence. "You have
presented a very interesting conjecture. It will most certainly provide for
lengthy discussions in our Center of Medical Studies meetings for many cycles
to come."
       "It seemed extremely involved and convoluted to me," objected one of
the more beribboned and elder lecturers. "The Theory of Spontaneous
Reproduction is a much simpler explanation for the origin of younglings than
this conjecture that the humans have hypothesized."
       "It isn't a conjecture! It's the _truth_!" whispered Katrina, upset.
Joe was wise enough not to translate her words for the aliens.
       "Hush," warned Deirdre. "The idea is there, let the creatures develop
it or no, as they will!"
          ****
The last several days of the mission were filled with small but important
duties, and all of the crew were busy. Reports, videos, further consultations
with the icerugs on points of culture and function -- and, for Deirdre and
David, the poignant joy of hearing, once more, the huge pipe organ, looking
like it had been made of crystal, and sounding more majestic than anything on
earth. The whole crew stood, awed, as the mighty notes swelled and echoed
through the Great Meeting Hall during the farewell ceremony. The new Presider,
a sapphire-colored icerug with an eye to match, stood with them, as did
Green-Eye. When the music ended, the humans, flouwen, and icerugs looked at
each other, and George spoke a brief farewell.
       "We'll see you again before we go," said George, "but as we are all




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here at once, I should like to thank you for all you have taught us."
       "We are glad of your visit," responded the young Presider seriously.
"We have learned things from you. We can now enjoy music from this grand
instrument, certainly a vast improvement upon your primitive model. We know
how to make paper, although it is usually too much trouble. The batteries, we
have also constructed, although they are heavy, and are only used on our
occasional trips deep below the surface. And we are
       interested to hear your conjectures about our origins, although even if
the discussions at the Center for Medical Studies eventually conclude that
they are true, they won't make much difference to our daily lives." There was
a pause.
       "And that's _all_?" Shirley asked, dismayed. But Deirdre's heart sang
again. They had interfered, but not too much.
       Back on _Victoria_, Shirley, George, and Katrina, with Josephine's
assistance, were readying the Ascent Propulsion Stage of the rocket for
takeoff, and discussing the disposal of the _Dragonfly_ airplane.
       "I know it was designed, deliberately, to be used for exploration and
then discarded," complained Shirley. "But it seems wasteful, even though I've
taken every removable scrap out of it." She had, indeed, on the grounds of
"you never know", even removed such items as light fixtures, fan motors, and
analytical instrument modules from the workwall, and stowed them in the
overflowing storage compartments of the _Victoria_. "We're still throwing away
a perfectly good computer in Joe, and all the flying capability of the plane."
       "I know," said George. "And I did have one idea. Now that we've seen
that the icerugs can operate independently of their carpets, it wouldn't be
too difficult to teach them how to interact with Joe and fly the airplane."
       "Yes!" interrupted Shirley. "That's terrific! They can use the plane to
go to foreign cities, trade vermicysts back and forth to promote international
harmony, and find out more about the rest of the planet!"
       "Of course, without the support of their carpets, they'll need to take
along a lot of food," said Katrina.
       "And there's a lot more to flying a plane than just turning on the
computer," said George more cautiously. "I'd hate to have them get caught in
one of the storms here and crash. And the thought that they _might_, would
haunt me."
       "It wouldn't take much time to put a complete instruction program into
Joe, would it?" asked Katrina eagerly. She liked the idea of leaving the
icerugs some really tangible gift.
       "Actually, there's more to it than that," said Shirley seriously.
"There _is_ a nuclear reactor in the tail. Although it's well shielded, it
still emits a significant amount of radiation, and the longer they run the
plane the worse it gets, and we have no idea how sensitive they are to
radiation."
       "And I've just thought of something else," said George firmly. "Or,
rather, someone. Deirdre."
       Katrina's enthusiasm for the project slumped.
       "We stay with the original plan," said George. "Joe will fly the plane
to a distant, uninhabited part of the planet, like the South Pole, and stay
there. The icerugs will be told it is there, and if they ever develop enough
technology to find it and use it, they'll be ready. But we won't just hand it
over -- that would be irresponsible." The others knew George's feelings about
responsibility, and were resigned. Katrina, indeed, decided not even to
mention the idea to Cinnamon, and especially not to Deirdre -- no sense in
asking for trouble!
       George settled into the communications console for a consultation with
_Prometheus_. Jinjur's face appeared on the screen, and she sounded eager to
have the explorers, especially George, return.
       "We've monitored all your reports, of course," she said. "And studied
all the images. The icerugs and coelasharks both look to me like something out
of a nightmare! You'll be glad to leave those genocidal killers and baby




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eaters behind, eh?"
       George protested, "No! They're wonderful, the icerugs -- amazingly
creative, and gentle -- you forget they're not really human ... and, of
course, that's a mistake. But I really learned to admire them. How's Nels
doing?" he asked, to change the subject.
       "Fine!" answered Jinjur, and chortled. "You won't believe those new
legs he's got, George. They're long and strong -- beautifully muscled -- and
the man is now nearly six feet tall. But the funny thing is that his legs are
as _hairy_ as ... as a hobbit! Long, gold-colored fur all over them, even on
his toes! But he doesn't care -- he's totally thrilled, and refuses to wear
long pants or shoes, just marches proudly around in shorts, beaming from ear
to ear!"
       George laughed, and shook his head in amazement, rejoicing that the
experiment had worked so well. Suddenly he was eager to get back to the giant
spaceship and all the people he had been separated from for so long.
       In the lab section on the engineering deck, the three biologists were
carefully organizing their collection of specimens, putting small amounts of
representative tissues in insulated cases for permanent storage aboard
_Prometheus_, and putting aside most of the tissues to discard here on their
native world. George came down the passway ladder to tell them Jinjur's
description of Nels. Typically, Katrina giggled. Deirdre considered the
picture, and smiled, and then forgot it -- she'd probably not even notice the
new legs. But Cinnamon was thoughtful -- would this change the man's
personality? And if so, how? She had several private hopes.
       "It's pleased the flouwen will be, then." Deirdre recalled that it was
the flouwen's vital analysis of Nels's genetic map which led to the
limb-growing process.
       "How's Little Red? Calmed down, I hope?"
       "Yes, thank goodness," said Cinnamon. "What with his accident, and then
the refusal of the coelasharks to listen to him, I think he's about fed up
with this world. But, then, all three of them are ready to go. It's hard for
them to be so idle, cooped up in that small habitat tank, while we get the
ship ready."
       Katrina snorted. "I think they handle it very well," she said tartly.
"When I last spoke to them, they asked me a question about the human genome,
and Little Red was quite rude when I didn't know the answer!"
       "What'd he say?" asked Deirdre curiously.
       "Never mind," said Katrina stiffly. "Now, with Josephine's help, I'll
fold up the analytical bench into the workwall, if you two want to do
something else."
       Cinnamon turned to take the unwanted tissue samples to the airlock,
while Deirdre climbed up the passway ladder to the galley to inspect the
remaining foodstuffs. There were ample provisions for their last hours here --
although most of the high-protein snacks had gone -- probably into Arielle,
thought Deirdre. There was still a supply of rich material, in the form of
chemically synthesized chocolate and algae-butter, and soon Deirdre had
transformed these into a magnificent chocolate cake, dense and dark, still
warmly fragrant as she glazed the top with a thin clear frosting. "To keep it
moist," she told herself. "Although why I'm thinking that will be a
problem..." as she looked at the faces that seemed to be constantly drifting
casually by the galley door. Later, sitting in the view lounge, George
outlined their plans over large chunks of the confection, accompanied by cold
algae-milk.
       "We leave at 1700," he said. "David and Arielle? Joe should have flown
the _Dragonfly_ to the South Pole by now. You'd better check in with Joe
through the commsats and take him through the shutdown procedure."
       Arielle smiled sadly, and put down her portion of cake, barely nibbled.
"Hate saying goodbye," she said.
       "We all do," said George kindly. "But I'm looking forward to seeing
Nels's legs! And Jinjur says John is completely well too. They're all getting




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interested in our next target, Zuni -- the reports from the landers are
exciting!"
       "I remember seeing one of the early pictures," said Thomas, "It's going
to be a colorful world; blue oceans, green islands, and sandy beaches. It'll
be a real break after this colorless place. I've just gone through my
electropix collection, and it looks like I could have done the whole damn
series in black and white."
       "And my recordings of the icerug music sound like I had only the bass
response control turned up," remarked David.
       "The ice core sample variations were in a narrow range, too. Indicating
a very stable climate," said Sam. "Highly important to the creatures who live
here, but peculiarly uninteresting."
       "It really is an alien world," said Shirley carefully, with a glance at
Deirdre. "Stranger than anything I ever dreamt of. But I'm glad I had the
chance to see it."
       Deirdre's green eyes lifted, and she stared long into Shirley's. Then
she nodded. "Forever grateful I'll be, to have walked on that surface," she
said, the soft lilt making the words almost a song. "Time out of mind I'll not
forget that dark beauty, changing and terrible. And the creatures, _of_ that
world, and right for it. I was there, and the memories of it will travel with
me for all the rest of my days."
       Jinjur's strong voice, coming in over their imps from _Prometheus_ high
above them in the sky, broke the long silence which followed. "Memories are
fine, but what I need are written reports. The Phase III reports on this
portion of the mission are due for transmission back to Earth in one month. Do
you have your first drafts done yet?"

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