Read Online Close to Critical by Hal Clement - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Hal Clement
Tags: Science-Fiction
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fixed on the vision screen; and, nasty as the creature had been, Raeker felt sympathetic. He himself would have been at least as unsociable under similar circumstances. There was no time for pity, however, while there was still hope; too much had to be done. "Wellenbach! What's the combination of the bathyscaphe?" he snapped.
The communication watch officer reached over his shoulder. "I'll get her for you, Doctor." Raeker pushed his hand aside. "Wait a minute. Is it a regular set at the other end? An ordinary phone, I mean, or something jury-rigged into the panels?"
"Perfectly ordinary. Why?"
"Because if it weren't and you punched its combination, those kids might open their air lock or something like that in trying to answer. If it's standard in design and appearance, the girl will be able to answer safely."
"I see. She won't have any trouble; I've seen her use the punch-combination sets here."
"All right. Call them." Raeker tried not to show the uncertainty he felt as the officer punched the buttons. It was not possible to tell yet just what had happened above Tenebra's atmosphere; something had evidently breached the air lock of the tender, but that might or might not have affected the bathyscaphe. If it had, the children were probably dead - though their guide might have had them in space suits, of course. One could hope.
Behind him, Aminadabarlee might have been a giant statue of an otter, cast in oiled gray steel. Raeker spent no time wondering at his own fate if bad news came back through the set and that statue returned to life; all his attention was concentrated on the fate of the youngsters. A dozen different speculations chased themselves through his mind in the few seconds before the screen lighted up. Then it did, and the worst of them vanished.
A human face was looking at them out of it; thin, very pale, topped by a mop of hair which looked black on the screen but which Raeker knew was red; a face covered by an expression which suggested terror just barely held under control, but - a living face. That was the important fact.
At almost the same instant a figure came hurtling through the door of the communications room and skidded to a halt beside the motionless figure of the Drommian.
"Easy! Are you all right?" Raeker didn't need the words to identify Councillor Rich. Neither did Aminadabarlee, and neither did the child in the screen. After the two-second pause for return contact, the terror vanished from the thin face, and she relaxed visibly..
"Yes, Dad. I was pretty scared for a minute, but it's all right now. Are you coming?"
For a moment there was some confusion at the set as Rich, Raeker, and the Drommian all tried to speak at once; then Aminadabarlee's physical superiority made itself felt, and he thrust his sleek head at the screen. "Where is the other one - my son?" he shrilled.
She replied promptly, "He's here; he's all right."
"Let me talk to him." The girl left the pickup area for a moment, and they heard her voice but not her words as she addressed someone else. Then she reappeared, with her dark hair badly disheveled and a bleeding scratch on one cheek.
"He's in a corner, and doesn't want to come out. I'll turn up the volume so you can talk to him there." She made no reference to her injury, and, to Raeker's surprise, neither did her father. Aminadabarlee seemed not to notice it. He shifted into his own shrill language, which seemed to make sense to no one else in the room but Rich, and held forth for several minutes, pausing now and then for answers.
At first he received none; then, as he grew more'persuasive, a feeble piping came back through the set. Hearing this restored the Drommian's composure, and he talked more slowly; and after a minute or so of this Aminadorneldo's head appeared beside Easy's. Raeker wondered whether he looked ashamed of himself; Drom-mian facial expressions were a closed book to him. Apparently one of the family had a conscience, anyway, for after a few
The communication watch officer reached over his shoulder. "I'll get her for you, Doctor." Raeker pushed his hand aside. "Wait a minute. Is it a regular set at the other end? An ordinary phone, I mean, or something jury-rigged into the panels?"
"Perfectly ordinary. Why?"
"Because if it weren't and you punched its combination, those kids might open their air lock or something like that in trying to answer. If it's standard in design and appearance, the girl will be able to answer safely."
"I see. She won't have any trouble; I've seen her use the punch-combination sets here."
"All right. Call them." Raeker tried not to show the uncertainty he felt as the officer punched the buttons. It was not possible to tell yet just what had happened above Tenebra's atmosphere; something had evidently breached the air lock of the tender, but that might or might not have affected the bathyscaphe. If it had, the children were probably dead - though their guide might have had them in space suits, of course. One could hope.
Behind him, Aminadabarlee might have been a giant statue of an otter, cast in oiled gray steel. Raeker spent no time wondering at his own fate if bad news came back through the set and that statue returned to life; all his attention was concentrated on the fate of the youngsters. A dozen different speculations chased themselves through his mind in the few seconds before the screen lighted up. Then it did, and the worst of them vanished.
A human face was looking at them out of it; thin, very pale, topped by a mop of hair which looked black on the screen but which Raeker knew was red; a face covered by an expression which suggested terror just barely held under control, but - a living face. That was the important fact.
At almost the same instant a figure came hurtling through the door of the communications room and skidded to a halt beside the motionless figure of the Drommian.
"Easy! Are you all right?" Raeker didn't need the words to identify Councillor Rich. Neither did Aminadabarlee, and neither did the child in the screen. After the two-second pause for return contact, the terror vanished from the thin face, and she relaxed visibly..
"Yes, Dad. I was pretty scared for a minute, but it's all right now. Are you coming?"
For a moment there was some confusion at the set as Rich, Raeker, and the Drommian all tried to speak at once; then Aminadabarlee's physical superiority made itself felt, and he thrust his sleek head at the screen. "Where is the other one - my son?" he shrilled.
She replied promptly, "He's here; he's all right."
"Let me talk to him." The girl left the pickup area for a moment, and they heard her voice but not her words as she addressed someone else. Then she reappeared, with her dark hair badly disheveled and a bleeding scratch on one cheek.
"He's in a corner, and doesn't want to come out. I'll turn up the volume so you can talk to him there." She made no reference to her injury, and, to Raeker's surprise, neither did her father. Aminadabarlee seemed not to notice it. He shifted into his own shrill language, which seemed to make sense to no one else in the room but Rich, and held forth for several minutes, pausing now and then for answers.
At first he received none; then, as he grew more'persuasive, a feeble piping came back through the set. Hearing this restored the Drommian's composure, and he talked more slowly; and after a minute or so of this Aminadorneldo's head appeared beside Easy's. Raeker wondered whether he looked ashamed of himself; Drom-mian facial expressions were a closed book to him. Apparently one of the family had a conscience, anyway, for after a few
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