“Good. Thank you, Benj. Have your weather men come up with anything at all about the likelihood of another flood?” The boy chuckled, though the sound meant little to the Mesklinite. “Nothing, I’m afraid. Dr. McDevitt just can’t be sure. Dr. Aucoin was complaining about it a little while ago, and my boss just cut loose. He said that it had taken men a couple of centuries before they could make reliable ten-day forecasts on Earth, with only one phase-varying component, water, and the whole planet accessible for measurement. Anyone who expects forecasting perfected in a couple of years for a world as big as Dhrawn, when we know an area the size of a large backyard and that with two phase-variables and a temperature range from fifty to over a thousand degrees Kelvin, must still believe in magic. He said we were lucky the weather hadn’t produced ice fields that turned into swamps when the temperature dropped and rain storms six feet deep with clear air underneath but icing up the cruiser bridges and forty other things that his computer keeps coming up with every time he changes another variable. It was funny watching Dr. Aucoin try to calm him down. Usually it’s the other way around.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hear it. You seem amused,” replied the captain. “Did you tell your chief about the clouds which Stakendee has reported?”
“Oh, certainly. I told everyone. That was only a few minutes ago, though, and they haven’t come back with anything yet. I really wouldn’t expect them to, Captain; there just isn’t enough detailed information from the surface for interpretation, let alone prognosis. There was one thing though; Dr. McDevitt was very interested in finding out how many feet Stak’s group had climbed and he said that if the clouds they reported hadn’t reached the Kwembly yet he wanted to know as exactly as possible the time they do. I’m sorry; I should have reported that earlier.”
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Dondragmer. “The sky is still clear here. I’ll let you know the moment I see any clouds. Does this mean that he thinks another fog is coming, like the one which preceded the last flood?” In spite of his innate defenses against worry, the captain waited out the next minute with some uneasiness. “He didn’t say, and he wouldn’t. He’s been caught too wrong too many times. He won’t take the chance again, if I know him, unless it’s a matter of warning you against some very probable danger. Wait! There’s something on Stak’s screen.” Dondragmer’s many legs tensed under him. “Let me check. Yes, all of Stak’s men but one are in sight, and he must be carrying the back end of the set because it’s still moving. There’s another light ahead. It’s brighter than the ones we’re carrying, at least, I think so, but I can’t really tell its distance. I’m not sure whether Stak’s people have seen it yet, but they should have; you said your eyes are better than the pickups. Mother, do you want to get in on this? And should we call Barlennan? I’m keeping Don posted. Yes, Stak has seen it and his party has stopped moving. The light isn’t moving either. Stak has the sound volume up, but I can’t hear anything that means anything to me. They’ve put the transmitter down, and are fanning out in front of it; I can see all six of them now. The ground is nearly bare, only an occasional patch of ice. No rocks. Now Stak’s men have put out their lights, and I can’t see anything except the new one. It’s getting brighter, but I guess it’s just the pickup cells reacting to the darker field. I can’t see anything around it; it looks a little foggy, if anything. Something has blocked it for a moment; no, it’s on again. I could see enough of a silhouette to be pretty sure it was one of the search party; he must have reared up to get a better look ahead. Now I can hear some hooting, but it’s not any words I know. I don’t see why … wait. Now Stak’s people are turning their lights back on. Two of them are coming back toward the set; they’re picking it up and bringing it forward toward the rest of the group. All the lights are up in front with them, so I can see pretty well now. There’s mist blowing past only a few feet, maybe a few inches up; the new light
is up in it a little way. I can’t judge its distance yet at all. The ground has no marks to help; just bare stone, with six Mesklinites flattened down against it and their lights and a dark line beyond them which might be different colored rock or maybe a narrow stream slanting toward them from the far left and going out of sight to my right. Now I get a vague impression of motion around the new light. Maybe it?s the running light of a helicopter. I don?t know how they?re arranged or how high off the ground they are when the machine is parked or how bright they are. “Now it’s clearer, yes, there’s something moving. It’s coming toward us, just a dark blob in the mist. It’s not carrying any light. If my guess at distance means anything, which it probably doesn’t, it’s about the same size as the Mesklinites. Maybe it’s Kervenser or Reffel. “Yes. I’m almost sure it’s a Mesklinite, but still too far away for me to recognize. I’m not sure I’d know either of those two anyway. He’s crossing that line; it must be a stream; some liquid splashed up for a split second into the path of the light; now he’s only a few yards away, and the others are converging on him. They’re talking, but not loudly enough for me to make any of it out. The group is milling around, and I can’t recognize anyone. If they’d come a little closer I’d ask them who’s there, but I suppose they’ll report pretty soon anyway and I can’t make them hear through the air suits unless they’re right beside the set. Now they’re all coming this way and the bunch is opening out; two of them are right in front of the set; I suppose it’s Stakendee and the one who’s just—” He was interrupted by a voice which originated beside him. It reached not only his ear, but three open microphones, and through them three different receivers on Dhrawn, where it produced three very different results. “Kabremm! Where have you been all these months?” cried Easy.