return to the airbody.
We cleaned up and made ourselves something to drink. Even squandering more of the water reserves on showers didn’t do much for our spirits.
We had to eat, but Cochenour didn’t bother with his gourmet exhibition. Silently, Dorotha threw tabs into the radar oven, and we fed gloomily on emergency rations.
“Well, that’s only the first one,” she said at last, determined to be sunny about it. “And it’s only our second day.”
Cochenour said, “Shut up, Dorrie; the one thing I’m not is a good loser.” He was staring at the probe trace. “Walthers, how many tunnels are unmarked but empty, like this one?”
“How can I answer a question like that? If they’re unmarked, there’s no record of them.”
“So those traces don’t mean anything. We might dig one a day for the next three weeks and find every one a dud.”
I nodded. “We surely might, Boyce.”
He looked at me alertly. “And?”
“And that’s not the worst part of it. I’ve taken parties out to dig who would’ve gone mad with joy to open even a breached tunnel. It’s perfectly possible to dig every day for weeks and never hit a real Heechee tunnel at all. Don’t knock it; at least you got some action for your money.”
“I told you, Walthers, I’m not a good loser. Second place is no good.” He thought for a minute, then barked: “You picked this spot. Did you know what you were doing?”
Did I? The only way to answer that question would be to find a live one, of course. I could have told him about the months of studying records from the first landings on. I could have mentioned how much trouble I went to, and how many regulations I broke, to get the military survey reports, or how far I’d traveled to talk to the Defense crews who’d been on those early digs. I might have let him know how hard it had been to locate old Jorolemon Hegramet, now teaching exotic archeology back in Tennessee, and how many times we’d corresponded; but all I said was, “The fact that we found one tunnel shows I knew my business as a guide. That’s all you paid for. It’s up to you if we keep looking or not.”
He looked at his thumbnail, considering.
The girl said cheerfully, “Buck up, Boyce. Look at all the other chances we’ve got—and even if we miss, it’ll still be fun telling everybody about it back in Cincinnati.”
He didn’t even look at her, just said, “Isn’t there any way to tell whether a tunnel has been breached or not without going inside?”
“Sure,” I said. “You can tell by tapping the outside shell. You can hear the difference in the sound.”
“But you have to dig down to it first?”
“Right.”
We left it at that, and I got back into my hotsuit to strip away the now useless igloo so that we could move the drills.
I didn’t really want to discuss it anymore, because I didn’t want him to ask a question that I might want to lie about. I try the best I can to tell the truth, because it’s easier to remember what you’ve said that way.
On the other hand, I’m not fanatic about it, and I don’t see that it’s any of my business to correct a mistaken impression. For instance, obviously Cochenour and the girl had the impression that I hadn’t bothered to sound the tunnel casing because we’d already dug down to it and it was just as easy to cut in.
But, of course, I had tested it. That was the first thing I did as soon as the drill got down that far. And when I heard the high-pressure thunk it broke my heart. I had to wait a couple of minutes before I could call them to tell them that we’d reached the outer casing.
At that time, I had not quite faced up to the question of just what I would have done if it had turned out that the tunnel had not been breached.
9
Cochenour and Dorrie Keefer were maybe the fiftieth or sixtieth party I’d taken on a Heechee dig, and I wasn’t surprised that they were willing to work like coolies. I don’t care how lazy and bored they start
We cleaned up and made ourselves something to drink. Even squandering more of the water reserves on showers didn’t do much for our spirits.
We had to eat, but Cochenour didn’t bother with his gourmet exhibition. Silently, Dorotha threw tabs into the radar oven, and we fed gloomily on emergency rations.
“Well, that’s only the first one,” she said at last, determined to be sunny about it. “And it’s only our second day.”
Cochenour said, “Shut up, Dorrie; the one thing I’m not is a good loser.” He was staring at the probe trace. “Walthers, how many tunnels are unmarked but empty, like this one?”
“How can I answer a question like that? If they’re unmarked, there’s no record of them.”
“So those traces don’t mean anything. We might dig one a day for the next three weeks and find every one a dud.”
I nodded. “We surely might, Boyce.”
He looked at me alertly. “And?”
“And that’s not the worst part of it. I’ve taken parties out to dig who would’ve gone mad with joy to open even a breached tunnel. It’s perfectly possible to dig every day for weeks and never hit a real Heechee tunnel at all. Don’t knock it; at least you got some action for your money.”
“I told you, Walthers, I’m not a good loser. Second place is no good.” He thought for a minute, then barked: “You picked this spot. Did you know what you were doing?”
Did I? The only way to answer that question would be to find a live one, of course. I could have told him about the months of studying records from the first landings on. I could have mentioned how much trouble I went to, and how many regulations I broke, to get the military survey reports, or how far I’d traveled to talk to the Defense crews who’d been on those early digs. I might have let him know how hard it had been to locate old Jorolemon Hegramet, now teaching exotic archeology back in Tennessee, and how many times we’d corresponded; but all I said was, “The fact that we found one tunnel shows I knew my business as a guide. That’s all you paid for. It’s up to you if we keep looking or not.”
He looked at his thumbnail, considering.
The girl said cheerfully, “Buck up, Boyce. Look at all the other chances we’ve got—and even if we miss, it’ll still be fun telling everybody about it back in Cincinnati.”
He didn’t even look at her, just said, “Isn’t there any way to tell whether a tunnel has been breached or not without going inside?”
“Sure,” I said. “You can tell by tapping the outside shell. You can hear the difference in the sound.”
“But you have to dig down to it first?”
“Right.”
We left it at that, and I got back into my hotsuit to strip away the now useless igloo so that we could move the drills.
I didn’t really want to discuss it anymore, because I didn’t want him to ask a question that I might want to lie about. I try the best I can to tell the truth, because it’s easier to remember what you’ve said that way.
On the other hand, I’m not fanatic about it, and I don’t see that it’s any of my business to correct a mistaken impression. For instance, obviously Cochenour and the girl had the impression that I hadn’t bothered to sound the tunnel casing because we’d already dug down to it and it was just as easy to cut in.
But, of course, I had tested it. That was the first thing I did as soon as the drill got down that far. And when I heard the high-pressure thunk it broke my heart. I had to wait a couple of minutes before I could call them to tell them that we’d reached the outer casing.
At that time, I had not quite faced up to the question of just what I would have done if it had turned out that the tunnel had not been breached.
9
Cochenour and Dorrie Keefer were maybe the fiftieth or sixtieth party I’d taken on a Heechee dig, and I wasn’t surprised that they were willing to work like coolies. I don’t care how lazy and bored they start
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