“For the rest of today, Betsey and Nick will take care of camp and herd; search teams will be Oliver and Dorothy, John and Nancy, and Jim and Jane. I will assign an area to each of the teams as soon as the maps have been checked; in the meantime, you might all be gathering firewood for tonight.” The group scattered obediently.
The geologists in the Vindemiatrix had for some time been matching, or trying to match, Easy’s not too complete description of the bathyscaphe’s environs; they had come up with four or five possible locations, none of which made them really happy. However, when a sixth possibility was finally settled on, Raeker called the exploring teams back to the robot and assigned two of the hopeful areas to each team. These were all in the general direction of the old village, naturally, since the mapping had gone on radially from that point in the two or three years the cartography project had been going. They were all on the nearer side of that region, however, since the men who had done the matching had been influenced by the realization that the ’scaphe must have drifted seaward on the night that it moved. It seemed likely, therefore, that a day to go, a day to explore, and a day to return would suffice for this step of the plan. By that time, Swift might be back with his people, and the rate of search could be stepped up. That was why Nick had been kept behind at the camp site; he might be needed as an interpreter.
The instructions were heard, the villagers’ own maps were checked, weapons were examined, and the parties set out. Nick and Betsey, standing beside the robot, watched them go; and far away, Raeker finally left the observing room to get some sleep. The diplomats stayed awake, chatting with their children as the latter described the animals which came into sight from time to time. In this relatively dull fashion the rest of the ship’s day, a night, and part of another day were spent, while the search teams plodded sturdily toward their assigned areas.
This was the twenty-seventh ship’s day since the accident to the bathyscaphe, the afternoon of the seventh day as far as Nick and his people were concerned. The children were understandably impatient; both fathers had to explain again and again how small were their chances of being found at the very beginning of the search. On this day, at least, human and Drommian were in remarkably close accord. In spite of this unity of effort, however, the children tended to spend more and more tune at the windows as the day drew on, and from time to time even Easy brought up the subject of using the spotlights to guide the searchers who should be approaching. Her father kept reminding her that Raeker had advised against it; but eventually Raeker withdrew his objection.
“It’ll make the kid feel more a part of the operation,” he said in an aside to Rich, “and I can’t see that there’s much, if any, more chance of Swift’s sighting them than of our own people’s doing it at the moment. Let her play with the lights.”
Easy happily made full use of the permission and the bathyscaphe blazed far brighter than daylight—since daylight was utter darkness to human eyes—at Tenebra’s surface. Rich was not too happy about the permission; it seemed to him encouraging the youngster in her unreasonable hope of an early rescue, and he feared the effects of disappointment.
“Listen to them,” he growled. “Yelling to each other every time something moves within half a mile. If they could see any farther it would be still worse—thank goodness they’re using their eyes instead of the photocells of the robot. That’ll last until they get sleepy; then they’ll start again when they wake up—”
“They should be under water by then,” pointed out Raeker mildly.
“And drifting again, I suppose. That’s when everything will go to pieces at once, and we’ll have a couple of screaming kids who’ll probably start hitting switches right and left in the hope some miracle will bring them home.”
“I don’t know about the Drommian, but I think you do your daughter a serious injustice,” replied Raeker. “I’ve never known much about kids, but she strikes me as something pretty remarkable for her age. Even if you can’t trust her, you’d better not let her know it.”
“I realize that, and no one trusts her more than I do,” was the weary answer. “Still, she is only a kid, and a lot of adults would have cracked before now. I can name one who’s on the edge of it. Listen to them, down there.”
Aminadorneldo’s piercing tones were echoing from the speaker.
“There’s something on this side, Easy! Come and see this one.”
“All right, ’Mina. Just a minute.” Easy’s small form could be seen for an instant on the screen, passing through the control room from one side of the ship to the other, calling as she went, “It’s probably another of those plant-eating things that are about as big as Nick’s people. Remember, the ones we want stand up on end.”
“This one does. Look!”
“Where?” Aminadorneldo must have been pointing; there was a moment of silence; then the girl’s voice, “I still don’t see anything; just a lot of bushes.”
“It looked just like Nick. It stood beside that bush for a moment and looked at us, and then went away. I saw it.”
“Well, if you were right, it’ll come back. We’ll stand here and watch for it.”
Rich looked at Raeker and shook his head dismally.
“That’ll—” he began, but got no further. His sentence was interrupted by a sudden shriek from the speaker, so shrill that for a moment neither of them could tell who had uttered it.
VIII. RADIATION; EVAPORATION; ADVECTION
John and Nancy made steady progress into the west. Their journey so far had not been particularly difficult, though most of it had been made over ground not yet surveyed. They had fought with floaters and other carnivores a reasonable number of times, eaten the fruits of their victories when they felt hungry enough, and talked more or less incessantly. The talk was mostly speculation; they had learned more about the nature of their Teacher in the last few days than in the preceding sixteen years, but what they had learned seemed only to give rise to more questions. They were young enough to be surprised at this; hence the steady conversation, which was interrupted only by their reaching a region which seemed to match part of their map.
“We must have kept our direction pretty well,” Nancy said after comparing the hills around them to those indicated on the sheet. “We were trying to hit the mapped region about here,” she pointed, “and seem to be only a dozen miles to the north. Oliver mapped this place; it hasn’t changed enough to be really doubtful. We can head south, and be sure of ourselves in a few more miles.”
“All right,” agreed John. “You know, even if we are still a good many miles from either of our search areas, it wouldn’t actually hurt to keep our eyes open for the machine.”
Nancy sent the ripple that passed for a shrug flickering down her scales. “It’s hardly worth making a special effort. We’ll be able to see it miles away, if it’s as bright as Fagin said. I think we’d better concentrate on the map, just now, until we’re sure we’re where we’re supposed to be.”
“Fagin would have had something to say about that sentence,” muttered John, “but I suppose you’re right. Let’s get on.”
Two miles, twenty-five minutes, one brief fight, and one longisb quake later they were in a position to feel sure of themselves. Uniform as the solution-molded surface of Tenebra was, and rapid as its changes were, the present region matched the maps too closely to be coincidence. They spent a few minutes deciding whether it would be better to start gathering firewood for the night which was not too many hours away or move closer to their first search area so as to waste less time in the morning, settled on the second alternative, and went on.