This day began so pleasantly, and ended in such a storm! I had thought our future, insecure and primitive as it has appeared these last weeks, to be reasonably under our own control, but Carmen, of all people, has unleashed feelings and ideas that threaten our very existence. I am resolved to combat these wild schemes and notions with every bit of my intelligence and strength—I hope desperately that I will succeed!
I had gone early to the shore, intending to fish, and was soon engaged in the work. My routine involves swimming slowly out to a likely area and surveying the bottom through the faceplate of a spacesuit helmet that the flouwen had salvaged from the Beagle. When I find a spot which seems to contain plants or shells, I mark it, return to shore to leave the helmet, and swim out again with knife and net and flippers. After a few deep breaths, I dive until I am tired or the net is full. The tenacious clams are so delicious I usually try to collect as many as I can of them first, for the curious filter-feeder fish are both easier and meatier; it is simply a question of locating the parent plant along a vent, and then harrying the attached "fish" until I can break it free and net it. I enjoy the work, but my mind continued to play with the idea of a simple boat from which to dive—it would save me the effort of swimming back and forth, and give me a place to rest between dives.
I resolved to discuss the project with Shirley at the first opportunity. I knew she would enjoy such a task, and I shall have to be firm about keeping the craft both light and simple; I hope this will be my own boat, and I shall want it to be of a size I can handle alone. I had begun to tire, and my thoughts veered off to the dreamy possibility of exploring other shores in my little boat, when I heard voices.
Little Red's shouts, as usual, came to my attention first, and, lifting my head from the water, I saw several people talking with the flouwen. It seemed a good time to stop work, and drift over to listen to the talk.
Nels was attempting to explain the nature and appearance of the Jolly Giants to the incredulous flouwen. After their own experiences on earlier expeditions, I would have thought the flouwen would have been more open-minded about unique new life-forms, but then I recall my own total disbelief at the sight of that moving plant, and I am more sympathetic.
"Plant has eyes that fly like Pretty-Smells?!" Little Red exclaimed, at his customary volume. Little Purple sounded rather wistful: "That sounds very strange, but very good too. That means they can look at things far away, without themselves having to move."
"We think that's how they see," Nels said. "But the idea is too new for us to understand fully, ourselves. There's a big gap between having eyes on your body, and having them free-moving."
"Want to see! Where is Jolly?" Little Red asked.
"Inland," said Cinnamon briefly. "They live near a big lake, so they can fish too, but they don't seem to care much for the ocean. And quite sensible that is, too," she added thoughtfully. "As slow-moving and top-heavy as they are, they'd have a lot of trouble coping with the waves, so they probably just avoid them altogether."
"We must arrange a meeting between the Jollys and the flouwen sometime, though," said Jinjur. "I'm all for expanding horizons between sentient beings!"
Privately, I hoped we took the time for considerable explanation to both parties before such a meeting; the Jollys had obviously found us interesting, but something of a disturbance.
At this point I waded out of the water and returned to camp, bearing my catch to what Arielle grandiloquently calls the "kitchen." We had indeed improved the cooking area with work surfaces, and here I found Shirley, grinding meal. She has already devised a more efficient mill, and is continually adjusting our crude tools for the better. As I expected, my new project captured her interest instantly.
"Yes! We can fasten those peethoo bamboo supports together, stop the ends with plugs of leaves—wait! Maybe a better idea would be to cut down one of those palms, and hollow it out! Make a dugout canoe!"
"Put in mast, and make sail? Then go farther, faster!" suggested Arielle. I was intrigued, myself, with the idea of a sail, but a little sorry to see my idea being so swiftly carried away from me.
"Could we start with just a little raft, please?" I requested. "It really would be a help in getting to good fishing spots."
"Okay, we'll do that tomorrow," agreed Shirley. "But a real boat, maybe an outrigger type, would be great for lots of other things too. I'll have to take a good look at that palm trunk—see what I can do with it." The palms are called boobaa by the Jollys, and bear the tough but useful fruits Arielle and David are so skilful in obtaining. Like so many other plants here, they grow in a sort of family arrangement. The attacking vines, reaching for the canopy space, are beautifully dealt with; in essence, the victim tree being climbed by the vine "retreats." It shrinks and transfers its energy to its allies. The vine thus uses its own strength in an unsuccessful attempt, because it is soon shaded out of any way to exist. The boobaa trunks are certainly wide enough for canoes, and if that is possible I hope we can do it! Discussion of various schemes for boatbuilding began our evening session, and by then Shirley had progressed to a scheme to build a fine dock out from Flouwen Beach.
We have all succumbed to the human tendency to name things, and Flouwen Beach marks not only our first landing place, but also the area where the water is deep enough for the friendly creatures to come close enough to hail us. I chuckled at Shirley's enthusiasm for a dock; the boulder on the beach where we had so unceremoniously draped Richard's half-drowned body was quite adequate to moor the modest craft I envisioned, but Shirley was already planning a ship the size of a young ocean-liner. It was easy to become excited at the prospect of a boat, however!
"With the boat, and guided by the flouwen, we can begin to do some real exploring," said Jinjur dreamily. "See if any nearby islands have these same plant forms, or different ones entirely."
"Bound to have some of the same, don't you think?" asked David. "The tides and currents would have transferred seeds and shoots."
"Unless the ones on each island are as aggressive and territorial as these seem to be," speculated Richard. "We might discover a regular beach patrol, resisting invaders!"
"We ought to survey the beaches around this island for that sort of thing," suggested Nels, half-seriously. "Although I'm not sure just what to look for. How does one spot a plant on guard duty?"
I was not listening too closely to this, because I was considering the problem of navigation under these unfamiliar skies. I remembered having to relearn during the summer I spent on the schooner in Australian waters.
"Do any of you remember the charts on Prometheus well enough to steer by these stars?" I asked abruptly. To my surprise, Arielle answered.
"Never tried to learn them. But I spend watch, watching stars. I know how these move, I could steer by them. You want to learn?"
"Yes!" I declared. "Let's start tonight!" Arielle shook her head, her dark eyes somber. "Too cloudy. That always going to be big problem, here." From her remarks about making a sail for our proposed boat, I knew she too wants to set forth—the loss of the aerospace plane at the bottom of the lagoon means her own figurative wings are sadly clipped.
"We'd just have to wait for clear weather to set out . . ." I began.
"And clear weather to return," Jinjur reminded. "It might be a long time before you got . . .home."
There was a long silence.
"Is this home?" asked Cinnamon quietly. "For the next twenty-five years, are we going to wander, together or separately, or settle here?"
" 'Here' being right here?" asked John. "Right here in Town Square?" The term made me smile—anything less square than this sloping, uneven pile of rock has seldom been seen.
"What'll we call 'here,' then?" asked Shirley, avoiding more talk of plans. "Camp One? Base Camp? We've done an awful lot of talking, sitting around here—maybe . . ."
"Council Rock," said David definitely. Shades of Kipling! But it sounded rather pleasant. Jinjur's reference to this planet being an Eden returned to my mind. Perhaps it was more flattering a term than a truthful one, but civilizations have certainly been founded in more unpropitious surroundings.
And then it happened. Carmen, with a few brief words, shattered completely any prospects of tranquillity. Without preliminary, she announced calmly, "I want to have my home here. We've learned we can live comfortably right here, and I want to stay. And I want a child."
I could not believe I had heard her correctly.
"A . . .a child? Where will you . . ."
"I want to have a baby. Because I was a last-minute replacement on Prometheus, I was never made incapable of child-bearing like the rest of you. I want one of you men to reverse your vasectomy—John can help—and make me pregnant!"
I felt stunned and dizzy. "But, that's not possible!" I cried, at once. "We cannot start families, even if there were any way it could be done! We're explorers!"
Jinjur was quick to agree. "The reason we took the step to eliminate procreation in all of us before we left Earth, is that this is no life for a new generation. We knew that when we signed on!"
"But it is possible," insisted Carmen, so quietly that I knew she had given this a lot of silent thought. "I can have a baby, and I think this is a good place to raise a child—better than most places on Earth." She stopped then, and I saw with dread that she was expecting argument, and was prepared for it.
And argument there was!
"Childbirth requires hospital facilities, sterile surroundings, drugs—"
"Babies need special food, and soft warm beds, and clean surroundings—"
"Children could not survive in this wilderness, with danger all around—"
"Raising a child takes skills and learning we've none of us had—"
"Something is bound to go wrong, and then what?"
But Carmen just said, "Having babies and raising them is normal. It's human. In primitive societies, in ghastly places on earth, in wartime, people have borne children, and raised them. And I want to do that." I became more vocal than ever, seeing this as a genuine threat to the solidarity of our small community. Carefully, as each of us found words, we set forth the many reasons why Carmen's absurd desire must not attain fulfillment, and she listened, oh so politely, for more than an hour. Then, she suddenly stood, and following our own rules of conduct, she simply walked away from us into the gloom.
"Well! We'll just have to let it go for now, and resume pointing out the facts to her when we get the chance," said Shirley firmly. But I feel some most chilling qualms! For one thing, the men, after their initial expostulation, became very quiet and took no further part in the argument. For another, Cinnamon said, after Carmen's departure, "To have a real home, and a family—I knew I wouldn't have one when I signed on, but it does sound so pleasant—I'd like to think about it, myself, before we decide."
"I thought it was decided!" said Shirley, and my heart sank, for there was more hope than disapproval in the quick words.
"But how?" Arielle's question brought the discussion to a close—a most unsatisfactory one, to my way of thinking!
It is very late. I've been awakened by Arielle's hand on my shoulder—I was having the nightmare, and she is on watch and heard my moans. How long will I have that same dream? Unable to free myself from my bunk on the lander, while the water swirls higher—it must have been triggered by the dissension this evening, and my inability to resolve it. I lay sleepily for a while, thankful to have been wakened, and glanced around at the quiet forms, hoping I had disturbed no one. Automatically I counted them, as we all do from time to time. It is disquieting to see that two are missing! I turned to Arielle, and found her dark eyes regarding me calmly. Whoever is off in the night, she is not alarmed. What is happening?
I am absolutely exhausted. This week I have worked harder than ever in my life before, trying to persuade my formerly clear-thinking companions of their folly. To no avail! I cannot decide, myself, which is more galling; the idiocy of any attempt on our part to bring children into this incredible situation, or my own inability to convince anyone of that idiocy!
"For one thing, our ages are against this scheme," I said reasonably to Jinjur. "Even if our operations could be reversed, we women are surely past an age when we could possibly conceive."
"We are all still having our periods," she reminded me. "And John says that living so long in free-fall, and the No-Die we took for so many years, might have kept us fertile. But you may be right, I can't deny it. By the calendar, I am eighty-seven years old. Even subtracting thirty years for the time I spent on No-Die, my biological clock has been ticking for fifty-seven years. The youngest person we have in the crew is Cinnamon, and her effective age is forty-three."
"And if we did become pregnant, what of the effects of our ages on a pregnancy?" I argued. "None of us has ever been pregnant before, and we don't know how severe the strain might be. And giving birth! Here, in this wilderness! It's asking a great deal of a woman at the best of times, and in the best of circumstances—here, it is just suicidally dangerous!"
I think, to Jinjur, I should not have said that, because she began to look upon the prospect as a challenge. I continued, desperately, with the others, but met with frustrating obstinance. Shirley is intrigued with the technical difficulties, Cinnamon doesn't even seem to hear me, and Arielle thinks it would be "fun!"
As for Carmen, I followed her for a whole day, talking and talking. When she took to the water I followed, swimming easily next to her, and being my most logical and persuasive. I thought she was weakening until she lifted her head, looked straight into my eyes, and said, "If I have a boy I will name him after his father. If I have a girl, I shall name her 'Hope.' " Then she dove, and I drifted to shore, dispirited.
It quickly became obvious that Carmen had fastened on John as the one most likely to yield to her importunities. And he capitulated! Those nightly absences of the couple were not all spent in entreaty and denial; somehow, at who knows what agonizing cost to himself, John has reversed his own vasectomy, and is accommodating Carmen. She mentioned this, quite casually, at breakfast one morning, while John simply smirked, odiously. The rest of the time became uncomfortable in the extreme. Covert looks between the men; long, serious discussions among the women; John and Carmen being shunned but having much to say to each other—and only I have been sent to Coventry! As I adamantly continue to announce the undeniable facts confronting us in any attempt to proceed with this foolishness, I receive no word or acknowledgement from anyone—except the broad grin on Richard's face. I am baffled at the sight of seven intelligent people who have enjoyed the pleasures of carefree sex for so many years, now contemplating with envy the two who have given it up!
Still, I know that I can prevail—and prevail I must!—simply by holding out; I shall refuse to be part of a unanimous agreement.
My quiet question produced a quiet answer from John. "Both operations were deliberately done in a manner such that they could be easily reversed. That was in case the mission was canceled, or one of us had to drop out for some reason. I myself am quite capable of performing the surgeries, but I could not, and would not, without certain minimum conditions."
"What are those?" Cinnamon's question was also quiet, and my heart eased a little, hoping yet to see us reach a sensible conclusion.
"Sterile surroundings, first of all, and anaesthesia. And the use of the right equipment—all that is available aboard the Dragonfly. It was planned years ago that in case the sick bay on the rocket lander was unavailable for any reason, the sleeping area on Dragonfly could be reconfigured as an emergency sick bay. All the necessary equipment is stored in a sealed kit under the floorboards. With those facilities, and especially if I had the help of the Christmas Branch, I could not only reverse all the operations, I could check up on the status of the fertility of the person. But, of course, all of that is . . ."
"Under two hundred meters of salt water—and smashed," I said with finality.
"Not smashed too badly, remember," said David. "The computer on the Dragonfly is still intact, and probably functional, although it's powered down. We've been too busy to think about it, trying to survive here. Besides, we knew the computer wouldn't have been much help, since its motiles can only operate near Dragonfly where they can receive the laser signals that supply their instructions and motive power. That's why, until now, we've all automatically shelved the whole idea that the computer will be able to help us. With it being under two hundred meters of water, we can't reach it, and it can't reach us. But it's still there, if we can activate it."
"But how could one do that?" I asked, reasonably. "We'd have to get at it to activate it, and we can't survive a dive to that depth."
"We need a diving bell," said Shirley, but her voice was flat as she glanced around at our meager equipment.
John shrugged. "Without the Christmas Bush and those surgical instruments down there, I'll not take a chance on operating on anyone, unless it is an emergency, and this isn't. The Christmas Branch is the proper tool for the task—it's small 'fingers' can do perfect work without traumatizing even the most delicate tissues. And, while I know I'm good, I just won't interfere with any body other than my own without the right tools."
It was an uncompromising stand, and while I accepted it and was about to try to change the subject, other minds as determined as my own were concentrating fiercely on the problem.
Suddenly, David said, "We can't survive a dive to two hundred meters, but the flouwen can. And now that they've learned so much of our vocabulary, I might be able to teach them the voice commands that would reactivate the computer along with the Christmas Branch!"
"What good would that do?" John was still skeptical, for which I was glad. "The Dragonfly is stuck under the lander, with a damaged tail. The Christmas Branch can't operate out of sight of the communication lasers on the plane, so it has to stay down there, where its no good to us."
But David's mind was racing now. "If the flouwen were able to get Josephine awake and functioning, she and I would have the Christmas Branch to work with."
Shirley, who had been silently thinking all this time, spoke up. "We can't get away from the fact that, eventually, we still have to get down there ourselves, if there's going to be any operations done. We still need that diving bell! The only part of the ship I can think of with the right size and strength is the central storage tank column." I pictured it, myself. It originally contained storage tanks for water and high pressure air. We had added a tank to accommodate the flouwen, and shortened the water and air tanks to accommodate.
"The strongest part of that column was the high pressure air storage tank," recalled Jinjur. "It should be able to take the pressure at that depth, but of course it's down there, and permanently installed in the ship."
David's voice was insistent. "The Christmas Bush can do almost anything—with the tools it has available on Dragonfly, it would have no difficulty cutting metal—or welding it either!"
"We don't need to do either," said Shirley. "When I cut the tanks down to make room for the flouwen, I used flanged end-domes instead of the usual heliarc welded dome—made them easier to reinstall. So, if we unbolt the end-domes to the high pressure air tank, and put them flange to flange, we'll have a hollow, metal, one-person, underwater flying-saucer-shaped . . ." She paused, her eyes flickering. I could almost see the design drawings for the air tank flipping through her eidetic memory.
"Damn!" she said, finally. "The new flanges are over two meters in diameter. I designed that tank myself, and I know they're more. Not much, but we can't get them into the airlock on the Dragonfly. It's exactly two meters high."
I was relieved. Finall,y my comrades would have to admit the futility of their irrational dreams.
"So, tilt it, " Jinjur suggested crisply.
"Of course! That'll work!" cried Shirley. Reluctantly, I could see even in my own mind's eye how such an object could slip through such a door. Even as I deplored the purpose behind this mental activity, I could not but enjoy its result; sitting empty-handed around a campfire, these people had little difficulty envisioning equipment and dimensions invisible to them.
"Then, if we can get the Christmas Branch to unbolt the end-domes, then the flouwen can bring them up. We'll need the nuts and bolts too, of course—and have them fetch a wrench!"
I fear the challenge of the problem is blinding my friends to the possible consequences of their project; it is their greatest weakness, as well as their greatest strength. David was already muttering voice commands for Josephine under his breath, with Arielle making suggestions.
"Reiki!" he said then. "Help me work out the very minimum set of commands the flouwen will need . . ." He stopped, and looked uncertainly at me. In the sudden silence, I felt all their eyes upon me, and I thought frantically. To me, the motive behind the current proposal is absurd, even demented, but I do realize the tremendous value of getting access to, and the use of, the tools beneath the lagoon, and to that very desirable end I must contribute what I can. This task is full of risk, and I am dubious of its success, but we are so constituted—all ten of us!—that we must try.
I took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. I hardly recognized my own voice, wavering, and very low.
"I think the self-check routine is the place to start . . ."
An echoing sigh sounded, all around the circle. Apparently I had not been the only one who had felt that awful tension! I spoke more steadily now, to mention another problem which had occurred to me.
"We can use the flouwen to activate the main computer, I think; it will simply mean rehearsing them until they have the commands perfectly memorized. But we can't depend on them for long, complicated technical messages back and forth. How can we set up some kind of direct communications link with Josephine?"
"Tell the Christmas Branch to drop the underwater sonar mapper from the cargo bay," suggested Richard. "The flouwen can haul it to the surface, and we can use that to talk back and forth with Josephine."
I agreed that was a good idea, and moved to talk it over with David. He and Arielle shifted along their log to make room for me, and it felt good to be working with them again. The magnitude of our disagreement had subtly shifted the growing familiarity of a family which we had been enjoying, making us into a society of individuals once more. My compromise had brought me back into the comfort of the family. We began to recall the words we had used to activate Josephine when we were aboard Prometheus, and then tried to simplify and shorten the commands. I became caught up in the problem myself, and we talked late. We hope to find the flouwen cooperative tomorrow!
The eight of us gathered for the evening meal tonight were quieter than usual. As always, I attempted to look as civilized as possible when we sat down, donning the laces that I now leave off during the rough work of the day, and trying to tame my increasingly unruly hair. Shirley and Cinnamon joined us with smooth fresh braids, and Arielle's shining cap swung just past her cheekbones as she served our nostalgic repast. The constraint we were all feeling was not due to formality; rather, I think, it was because we are so accustomed to being ten, that the absence of anyone feels very strange.
We had called the flouwen very early that morning. David and I had carefully selected the fewest possible commands for the flouwen to initiate the computer's activity, and were reviewing them anxiously once more when the opalescent blobs appeared, and we waded out to greet them.
"Hi! Hi! Let's play!" shouted Little Red immediately.
"Little Red is bored," explained Little White. "We swim along this coast all around. All the same. We catch food easily. We surf. We explore. But we find nothing new. When can we see Jollys?"
"Soon," promised Cinnamon. "We have a big job for you to do today, but as soon as it is done we'll ask the Jollys to come down to the shore to meet you." What a diverting thought—I hope most sincerely to be able to see that meeting!
"Job?" said Little Red dubiously. "Work?"
"More like a wonderful game," I said quickly. "Now that you can talk so well, and know so many fine words, maybe you can talk to the airplane pet; and maybe—just maybe—it will answer you."
"Great!" was the answering shout. "Let's go!"
"Wait!" called David. "You have to say just the right words, or it won't answer you."
"Hunh, pet dumb!" Little Red said sulkily. And, of course, he has a point.
"What words? Tell them to me," asked Little Purple eagerly.
Slowly, and with frequent repetitions, we gave the words of command to our alien friends, and they repeated them, memorizing. Finally they seemed to be word-perfect. We went through the routine a final time.
"Now," instructed David. "You go down to the airplane pet and put your body right onto the clear parts near the front. Then, you say, 'Self-check routine zero.' "
"Self-check routine zero," echoed Little White, in a creditable imitation of David's voice.
"Then, if you're lucky, the pet will answer! It will say, 'Seven-six-one-three-F-F.' But if it says anything else, or doesn't answer, come back and tell me."
"Dumb thing to say!" interjected Little Red.
"If it says, 'seven-six-one-three-f-f-,' then my turn to say 'self-check routine one,' " said Little White obediently.
"And when you hear a voice like this," I said, lowering my own to Josephine's husky accent, " 'Surface Excursion Module Four going through systems check' then you will know you are doing exactly right, and you say very quickly . . ."
"Emergency! Stop systems check! Lower sonar mapper!" ordered Little White firmly.
"Then I grab box and bring it up!" said Little Red eagerly.
"I carry the cable," added Little Purple importantly.
"Excellent!" said Cinnamon proudly. "You have learned very well."
"Off you go, then!" Jinjur waved, and the three flouwen swam from the shallows and dove into the depths of Crater Lagoon.
As we waited, we mentally went through the routine ourselves, and very shortly after we calculated that the exchange must be concluded, the three appeared again, bringing their precious cargo intact. There was a spontaneous cheer, and Shirley and David pounced upon the heavy black box covered with its array of ultrasonic senders, and quickly towed it ashore, the long power and communications umbilical trailing along behind. As they bent over it, speaking, I moved off to thank the flouwen for a job well done. They sped off and I turned to hear Jinjur's query.
"So! What's the status of the Dragonfly?"
David looked up from where he and Shirley were crouched before the sonar mapper, using it to talk with the airplane's computer. "Josephine was really upset at first, when she began to realize the situation. There were so many urgent damage control tasks to do at once, she didn't want to override any of them. But we told her to set the Christmas Branch to work on enough of them to allow her to go off emergency status, and now she's willing to send out a sub-branch to begin unbolting the pressure tank domes."
"We also settled another worry I had," added Shirley. "I wasn't sure the Christmas Branch could function in the high pressure outside the airlock without a lot of short-circuits developing. But Josephine sent out a tiny imp first, and no problems developed. We've now got a sub-branch working on the bolts on the end domes. Perhaps, though . . ." The engineer's concern for her circuitry was back in force! "In case the salt water produces a long term corrosion problem, I think we should always keep most of the Christmas Branch inside, away from the seawater, and use the minimum portion of it necessary to do a job."
"Sounds good to me," I agreed. "David?"
He nodded. "I'll make that instruction part of Josephine's standard operation procedure with my next command," he said, and bent over the mapper again.
"Shirley," asked Jinjur seriously, "do you think there is any chance at all that we could raise the Dragonfly?"
Shirley's response was flat. She hates to be defeated!
"No. The lander is sitting right on top of it, and I don't think even the flouwen could rock it off. Besides, it doesn't have its wings on, and without the buoyancy supplied by the wing tanks, it would just sit there. The wing segments, and the rudder, and the liquid metal radiator loop in the rudder, were all destroyed by the engine burnthrough and crash. The radiator loops in the two horizontal stabilizers do still work, so the nuclear reactor is properly cooled, and that means there's still lots of power. It's just all on the inside of the plane, is all," she ended sadly.
John grunted. "I'm just glad it's right side up. The deck angle doesn't seem to be too steep. I should be able to work, if I can get down there."
The water roiled behind me, and I put an ear below the surface to hear Little Red complaining.
"Heavy! I do all hard work."
Quickly I called some others and between us we relieved Little Red of the burden of the detached dome.
"D'you bring the O-rings?" asked Shirley anxiously.
"Here are small hard things, and thin torus thing," came the voice of Little White, as he held out the nuts, bolts, washers and O-rings. "Now I go down to help Little Purple with the other heavy thing."
With the safe landing of the two domes, the flouwen moved off to watch, commenting freely on Shirley's activities. It took several pairs of hands, working carefully under Shirley's direction, to position the two domes together.
"I really hate to rely on a seal between two 0-rings," fussed Shirley.
"Yes," agreed Carmen. "Having a flat surface on one would certainly help. Thank goodness there's still plenty of silicone grease in this groove. We'd better be really careful not to get any sand into it!"
"Richard? Nels? Help us get this thing into the water for a test dive!"
The assembly seemed to me to have gone with amazing speed, but I suppose its because this device is so extremely simple, without the complicated technology to which I am accustomed.
"How deep are you going to send it for a test?" I asked.
Shirley considered. "At least fifty meters deeper than the plane," she said slowly. "And then we should have a complete, timed run-through, with the Christmas Branch removing the bolts and opening the bell while it is inside the airlock. The air in the bell will be limited and we need to know how long it will take."
"Wait a minute," interjected David. "There are spare suit air tanks in the airlock. I can direct the Christmas Branch to put one of them in the bell, this first trip. That way there'll be an emergency air supply right inside."
"Good idea," said Jinjur. "And if it can locate a flashlight to include, tell it to get that in too. Nice to have light if you need it."
"Lunch?" Arielle's voice was hopeful. Shirley began to protest.
"The dive will only take few minutes!" But Arielle's comment made me think of something.
"As long as the diving bell will be empty on this first trip, why not take advantage of the chance to carry a cargo that's expendable, like some decent food and spices from the galley?"
"Sounds good to me," agreed David. "I can have the Christmas Branch send up ten or twenty of our special meals."
Shirley's expression revealed a sudden recollection of her favorite shish-kebab feasts, and she readily agreed to utilize the first trip of our improvised vessel for a frivolous cargo.
After briefing Josephine on our plans, we called the flouwen and sent them plummeting downward, tugging the now completed diving saucer between them. The trip was made without apparent incident, and all the seals proved, to Shirley's relief, to have been opened and resealed with no leakage. The 'payload,' if I may apply such an official title to the motley collection of packages which lay before us, was in perfect condition, and Carmen and Nels happily divided the packages up between them and carried them up the hill.
Shirley was still examining the inside of the metal domes. An airtank and flashlight were neatly held down inside by straps glued to the metal, and there was just enough room for one person left. The closeness of the fit was a bit of an advantage, as it meant the passenger would be less likely to be bumped around; however, the thought of a dizzying tumble down in the darkness was distinctly unpleasant.
"We really ought to have a lot more test-trips," fretted Shirley. "I'm still not happy about those O-ring seals. But since we don't have a back-up bell anyway, we might as well proceed to a manned dive. I'll go first."
John was quick to disagree with this. "The main reason we're planning these descents is to get to that sick bay and do the operation reversals. It's essential that I be there, so I'll go down first. I'll need to set up the sick bay and get ready. First I'll check out my control of Josephine's surgical capabilities by having the Christmas Branch hook up the left side of me using a local. Then I'll pass the word up. Nels and Richard and David should come down next, one at a time. It's been quite a while since I attempted even minor surgery using the Christmas Branch, and I'd prefer to start with . . .the simpler operations. I can do all three of those today." He paused, and the immediacy and risk of this appalling project sank into my mind anew. "The women will each need to stay down for a full day, to be monitored during recovery for any complications. But I don't anticipate any trouble."
So saying, John stepped over to the little bell, and turned to look at us appraisingly. I think, even now, we might have sensibly reconsidered, but there was something just faintly superior in the smile he directed at the three men. I felt, rather than actually saw, the little ripple of jealousy that swept through them, and then Richard's voice spoke, a trifle harshly.
"Well, go ahead, make yourself comfortable and we'll seal you up!" Nels moved to help, and the diving bell was quickly released to the waiting flouwen.
They were soon back—they have already become adept at handling the diving saucer, and each trip became swifter. Through the sonar mapper we heard John's voice, assured but tinny, as he located and set up his small surgery.
When at length he pronounced himself ready, his first patient sped on his way, followed rapidly by the other two men. It was apparent immediately that John had not exaggerated his own skill, nor that of the Christmas Bush. With the assistance of the incredibly strong but minute "fingers" on the ends of its branches, only the tiniest incision is necessary, and the men each returned obviously relieved. Shirley wanted very much to make the next descent; she insisted it is because she wants to recheck the safety of the little vessel and the aerospace plane itself, and, politely, we didn't contradict her.
Our dinner that evening, then, was a strange occasion, with John and Shirley absent at the bottom of the lagoon. We all enjoyed a full meal of our most favorite dishes, and the aroma of Richard's corned beef and cabbage was as unique on the warm wind of this alien world as that of Cinnamon's garlicky pasta. My own spicy chili, rich with meat and peppers, tasted better than ever it had aboard Prometheus, but I was not particularly hungry for it. I offered to share it with the others, something we have never done with our "specials" before. Of course, always before these special meals were designedly selfish; purely personal treats, for those occasions when one felt the need for a little self-indulgence. Now, in these primitive surroundings, it seemed a final, formal celebration of a past from which we were forever separated. The thought of sharing the varied tastes was a surprise to the others, but they agreed quickly, and the little tidbits were ceremoniously passed around. I think everyone was a little curious about the other dishes, but mainly partook of this strange buffet because they know such an opportunity will not occur again. I myself enjoyed all the wildly different flavors, but took only the tiniest of tastes of each, as one after another tasted my chili and reached hastily for the water bucket! Arielle, indeed, reached out a slender hand to touch my throat, and murmured, questioning, "Asbestos?"
We lingered long, savoring the last of those flavors so reminiscent of a world millions of miles away. In the back of our thoughts, the welfare of John and Shirley, deep in the dark waters of the lagoon, was a constant concern. Occasionally we heard a casual remark from the sonar scanner, but all seemed serene.
Finally, I got up briskly to begin the dreary but essential cleaning up. We take the task in strict rotation, and because I dislike it so, I have become swift and efficient, and it was quickly done. I returned to my place with a sigh, then, to listen as David's fingers moved over the holes in his tenor recorder, rescued by him from the lander, bringing forth old, old songs—simple songs, old even on earth, of home, and love, sorrow and joy. Nearby, Nels's pencil hovered over some of his precious paper, sketching with meticulous precision the structure of the Jolly. Cinnamon stood, and stretched, and moved to add wood to the fire, making the bright sparks leap upward from the blaze. Arielle and Jinjur chuckled softly over some small joke, sipping from steaming cups, and Richard moved his feet closer to the warmth, and lay back, yawning contentedly.
As I studied the little group, I heard, without really noticing, the differences in the sound. David was trying first the professional recorder he had salvaged from the lander, and then the primitive small flute he had made. The pure, dispassionate perfection of the notes from the more sophisticated instrument contrasted sharply with the breathy softness of the short range of which the simple one was capable. With a sudden surge of feeling, I realized I preferred the more human, imperfect tones! But I said nothing.
Shall I take my turn, when it comes? Shall I join the others in their plan to bring children into Eden? No one would blame me, if I choose to remain apart. But, if I choose to participate, possibly to regain the potential for having a baby, I must do so soon. I have only a few days! I have stayed awake most of this night, thinking and thinking, and I am so tired. But I have decided.
I cannot separate myself from these people. They are all I have, and they are important to me. Maybe I shall never become pregnant. Maybe, if I ever do, it will be very bad. Maybe we are taking foolish risks. But I shall join my people in their risk-taking, and I shall do it the minute Shirley returns.