Don’t worry,” said Prilicla, “it’s a little like brain surgery.”
CHAPTER 18
Even though the captain was giving him the benefit of its wide-ranging technical expertise and guiding his hands at every stage, the work went very slowly. An early splicing problem was that some of the damaged fine-gauge wiring had burned away along several inches of its length and the missing pieces had to be replaced. There was suitable replacement material on Rhabwar and the captain offered to bring it himself, in the hope that he would be allowed to assist Prilicla directly and so speed up the process.
“Bring some food as well, friend Fletcher,” said Prilicla. I ve decided that it will also save time if I don’t have to return to the ship for meals. Or sleep.”
Prilicla waited politely until the expected objections were becoming repetitious, then said, “There are risks, of course, but I’m being neither foolish nor foolhardy. My spacesuit makes provision for the short-term elimination of body wastes, it has a small airlock attachment for the introduction of food, and in the weightless condition, padded rest furnishings are unnecessary for comfort. My thinking is that if we want the survivor to trust us,we must show that we trust it.”
I agree, reluctantly,” the other replied after a long pause.
“But if I can make it plain that I’m helping you help it, maybe it will begin to trust me, too.”
“That is the general idea, friend Fletcher,” he replied. “But at this delicate stage in the contact procedure we shouldn’t rush things.”
“Right,” said the captain. “I’ll bring the food, replacement wiring, and some simple, non-powered tools that I think will help in your work. They will be inside a transparent container so that the survivor and/or its robot will be able to see exactly what it is getting. I’m coming now.”
But when it was approaching the alien ship, the emotional radiation of the survivor became apprehensive and its robot left the compartment quickly on what was obviously an interception course. Prilicla followed it and, when it was plain that the captain was not to be allowed to enter the ship, he relieved the other of its package.
“Sorry, friend Fletcher,” he said as he did so, “I’m afraid that you’re still unwelcome here. But I’ve been thinking about a possible explanation for that, and for the high sensitivity these people have towards external physical contact, allied to the strange fact that, in both the ship and its crew robots, their defenses are ultra-short range. Surely that is a strange type of weapon to use in space.”
“The weapon used against them was not short-range,” said the captain. “It blew a large hole in their hull and, to a lesser degree, in the defunct crew robot we examined. But go on.”
“During your show,” Prilicla resumed, “I received the feeling that the survivor was being given information for the first time. There was excitement, wonder, but a strangely reduced level of surprise. It was almost as if the survivor was expecting, or maybe just hoping, to meet other life-forms in space. If I’m right, that would mean that interstellar travel was new to it, or that this was its first time out and it was exploring, perhaps even searching for the planet it has found. But when you showed the Hudla sequence, there I detected subtle changes in its emotions. There was an odd combination of fear, dread, hatred, and, strangely, familiarity. Hudla is not a pleasant world to people who are not Hudlars and, I would guess, neither is the survivor’s. I realize this is speculation but I have the feeling that it went out looking for another and better world. The presence of its ship in close orbit could mean that it found it.”
The other made a gesture of impatience. “An interesting theory, but it doesn’t take into account the fact that an as-yet unknown agency used an offensive weapon against it.”
Prilicla hated telling the captain that he thought it was wrong, especially at this short range because he would feel the other’s annoyance at full intensity. He said gently, “Are we quite sure about that? Consider the type of blast damage to the ship and the robot taken aboard Terragar, and that this species may be new to interstellar and hyperspatial flight and the distress beacons associated with it. Let’s suppose that they found an uninhabited planet, green and pleasant and without the violent meteorology of home and that they signaled its position by detonating — not a distress beacon because if they were new to space they would not expect rescue — but a similar device that would give an accurate position fix. The signaling device was untried and it blew up in their faces. That’s the one we suspected might be a weapons discharge. Terragar responded before we could and needed to detonate its own distress beacon. But the point I’m making is that the damage to the alien ship might have been accidental and self-inflicted.”
“I think you’re wishing rather than theorizing, Doctor,” said the captain; then, after a moment’s thought, “But it’s a nice theory. However, it doesn’t explain why their robots as well as their ship have such prickly hides. Plainly they were expecting someone or something to attack them. And if you still think I’m wrong, don’t waste time being polite about it.”
“Their defenses may be automatic,” said Prilicla. The captain did not reply. It was beginning to have doubts which meant that the reflected annoyance caused by Prilicla':
words would be reduced. He went on. “Consider the surface design of the ship’s outer hull as well as that of the robot’s skin. Those surfaces can be touched without harm by organic digits or simple, unsophisticated, non-powered tools. If we postulate a dense or highly disturbed atmosphere on their home world, a thick, protective, and streamlined covering would be necessary for survival, as it is on the Hudlars’ planet. But suppose they have an implacable natural enemy, perhaps an intelligent and technically advanced one, and the ship’s defensive weapons are needed only on their environmentally-hostile home planet during the periods of construction, takeoff, and landing.
“And if their implacable enemy bears a physical resemblance to you DBDGs,” he ended, “that would explain much.”
The captain made an untranslatable sound. “I suppose we’re lucky that they don’t have a phobia about outsized crabs or caterpillars, or six-legged elephants or even large flying insects,” it said, then went on briskly. “About this repair job, Doctor. There will be considerable physical and mental stress involved. The quality of any work suffers with the onset of fatigue, whatever the profession. While your mind is clear, can you estimate how long you will be able to function effectively before I should remind you to stop for rest?”
Prilicla gave an estimate that was on the generous side, knowing that the other would be sure to reduce it. Nothing more was said until he had returned to the alien’s control center, after which the captain rarely stopped talking, but the words and tone were continually reassuring.
“… Before its insulated cover was pulled apart by the accident,” Fletcher was saying, “the cable loom you are working on enclosed ten individual lines. The magnifier here tells me that they are too fine to carry a dangerous level of current. But their color-coding is the same as the heavier cables that run to and spread across the outer hull, so we may assume that they perform a similar communications and/or sensory function… Dammit,
I wish I could get in there with the proper tools. Don’t take that as a criticism, Doctor, you’re doing fine.”
Prilicla remained silent because the other had repeated its non-criticism and apology several times in the last hour, and he was feeling excited and hopeful rather than irritated. An internal, light-duty sensor and communications circuit was what he had been looking for because it might mean that he had found the broken connection between the comparatively uninjured and strongly emoting crew member and its partner. Putting them in touch with each other again should go a long way to proving their rescuers’ good intentions. Carefully and with the delicacy of touch possible only to one of his fragile race, he separated, stripped, and began to splice the severed ends of a wire that was almost hair-thin.