And I was, I must admit, considerably interested in the water.
“No need of it,” he said. “I travel in my second self and I need no food or water. Slight protection from the openness of space and a little heat so my living tissues come to no great harm.”
For the love of God, I asked myself, what was going on? He was in his second self and while I wondered what it might be all about, I was hesitant to ask. I knew how these things went. First surprise or horror or amazement that there could exist a species so ignorant or so inefficient that it did not have the concept, the stammering attempt to explain the basics of it, followed by a dissertation on the advantages of the concept and the pity that was felt for ones who did not have it Either that or the entire thing was taboo and not to be spoken of and an insult to even hint at what it might entail.
And that business about his living tissues. As if there might be more to him than simply living tissues.
It was all right, of course. A man runs into some strange things when he wanders out in space, but when he runs into them he can usually dodge them or disregard them and here I could do neither.
I had to do something to help this creature out, although for the life of me I couldn’t figure just how I could help him much. I could pick him up and lug him back to where the others waited, but once I’d got him there he’d be no better off than he was right here. But I couldn’t turn about and walk away and simply leave him there. He at least deserved the courtesy of someone demonstrating that they cared what happened to him.
From the time I had seen the ship and had realized that it was newly crashed, the idea had arisen, of course, that aboard it I might find food and water and perhaps other articles that the four of us could use. But now, I admitted, the entire thing was a complete and total washout. I couldn’t help this creature and he was no help to us and the whole thing wound up as just another headache and being stuck with him.
“I can’t offer you much,” I told him. “There are four of us, myself and three others. We have no food or water-absolutely nothing.”
“How got you here?” he asked.
I tried to tell him how we had gotten there and as I groped and stumbled for a way to say it, I figured that I was just wasting my time. After all, what did it really matter how we had gotten there? But he seemed to understand.
“Ah, so,” he said.
“So you can see how little we can do for you,” I said. “But you would essay to carry me to this place where the others are encamped?”
“Yes, I could do that.”
“You would not mind?”
“Not at all,” I told him, “if you’d like it that way.”
I did mind, of course. It would be no small chore to wrestle him across the sand dunes. But I couldn’t quite see myself assessing the situation and saying the hell with it and then walking out on him.
“I would like it very much,” the creature said. “Other life is comfort and aloneness is not good. Also in numbers may lie strength. One can never tell.”
“By the way,” I said, “my name is Mike. I am from a planet called the Earth, out in the Carina Cygnus arm.”
“Mike,” he said, trying it out, hooting the name so it sounded like anything but Mike. “Is good. Rolls easy on the vocal cords. The locale of your planet is a puzzle to me. The terms I’ve never heard. The position of mine means nothing to you, too. And my name? My name is complicated matter involving identity framework that is of no consequence to people but my own. Please, you pick a name for me. You can call me what you want. Short and simple, please.”
It had been a little crazy, of course, to get started on this matter of our names. The funny thing about it was that I’d not intended to. It was something that had just come out of me, almost instinctively. I had been somewhat surprised when I’d heard myself telling him my name. But now that it had been done, it did make the situation a bit more comfortable. We no longer were two alien beings that had stumbled across one another’s paths. It gave each of us, it seemed, a greater measure of identity.
“How about Hoot?” I asked. And I could have kicked myself the minute I had said it. For it was not the best name in the world and he would have had every reason for resenting it. But he didn’t seem to. He waved his tentacles around in a snaky sort of way and repeated the name several times.
“Is good,” he finally said. “Is excellent for creature such as me.”
“Hello, Mike,” he said.
“Hello, Hoot,” I told him.
I slung the rifle on my shoulder and got my feet well planted and reached down to get both arms around him. Finally I managed to hoist him to the other shoulder. He was heavier than he looked and his body was so rounded that it was hard to get a grip on him. But I finally got him settled and well-balanced and started up the dune.
I didn’t try to go straight up, but slanted at an angle. With my feet sinking to the ankles with every step I took and the sand sliding under me, and fighting for every inch of progress, it was just as bad, or worse, than I had thought it would prove to be.
But I finally reached the crest and collapsed as easily as I could, letting Hoot down gently then just lying there and panting.
“I cause much trouble, Mike,” said Hoot. “I tax your strength, exceeding.”
“Let me get my breath,” I said. “It’s just a little farther.”
I rolled over on my back and stared up at the sky. The stars glittered back at me. Straight overhead was a big blue giant that looked like a flashing jewel and a little to one side was a dull coal of a star, a red supergiant, perhaps. And a million others-as if someone had sat down and figured out how to fill the sky with stars and had come up with a pattern.
“Where is this place, Hoot?” I asked. “Where in the galaxy?”
“It’s a globular cluster,” he said. “I thought you knew that.”
And that made sense, I ‘thought. For the planet we had landed on, the one that great fool of a Smith had led us to, had been well above the galactic plane, out in space beyond the main body of the galaxy-out in globular duster country.
“Is your home here,” I asked.
“No. Far away,” he said, and the way he said it, I asked him nothing more. If he didn’t want to talk about where he’d come from, it was all right with me. He might be on the lam, he might be a refugee, or he might have been banished as an undesirable. All of these things happened. Space was full of wanderers who could not go home again.
I lay looking at the stars and wondering exactly where we were. A globular cluster, Hoot had said, and there were a lot of them and it could be, I supposed, any one of them. Distance or proximity, I realized, would not make a great deal of difference when one was shunted from one place to another by the method that had been used to get us here.
Nor did it make a great deal of difference where we were. If we failed to locate water, we’d not be here for long. Food too, of course, but food was less critical than water. I wondered rather vaguely why I wasn’t more upset. It might be, I told myself, that I had been in so many scrapes in so many alien places and had always, somehow, gotten out of them, that I had come to think I’d always be able to get out of them. Or maybe it was the ingrown realization that my margin of good luck had been more than overrun, that I was overdue to meet the end I had escaped so many times-a realization that someday some planet or some ornery critter would finally do me in. And realizing that, deciding that there was no great point to worry over it, for when that day came I’d had it and prior worry would not help at all.
I was trying to figure which it might be when something touched me softly on the shoulder. I switched my head and saw that Hoot was tapping me with one of his tentacles.
“Mike,” he croaked, “you should take a look. We are not alone.”
I jerked bolt upright, grabbing at the rifle.
A wheel was coming up over the dune behind us, the one on which Hoot’s spacecraft had come to grief. It was a big wheel and a bright one and it had a green hub that glistened in the moonlight. I could see only part of it, but the monstrous, gleaming curve of it rose into the air above the dune a hundred feet or so. Its tread was broad-ten feet or more, I guessed-and it had the shine of polished steel. Hundreds of silvery spokes ran from the inside of the rim to the green and glistening hub.