“And whether any hatches or cargo doors were opened?”
“Well, probably not. That would not be considered a navigation matter. However, there should be traces at any place people emerged.”
“In blowing snow?” keyed Janice. Rekchellet shrugged, his wing joints brushing the carrier’s ceiling.
“If we seek carefully enough, yes. Hugh, I can handle this; it’s far too much trouble for you to do everything in code. I’ll arrange the search after checking this driver and finding out from Pwanpwan and the Port whatever we can about this vehicle’s recent doings and who was using it and why. You and Jan are full of pressure juice and set up” to handle problems in the Pits, which are more likely to need quick answers anyway. You could hardly go hunting all over the Solid Ocean, even if Spreadsheet-Thinker could be argued into releasing an aircraft for you. We fliers can do the job much more safely and efficiently. What would they say in Pwanpwan if we lost a flying machine on a search job?”
“What would they say if we lost a person without searching?” countered Hugh.
“That would probably depend on the person. We’ve already lost some, it seems, but as far as we know now it was their own fault, not ours. I’ll do the checking. You can stick to the Pit work. If Pwanpwan is so worried about the missing people that they want machines to look for them, too — all right; if they care so little they don’t even want to risk people from the Project, well — it’s not all right, but I don’t know what we can do then. I’ll keep whistling to you.”
The Erthuma pondered. Objectively, Rekchellet was quite right on every point. Hugh sometimes had trouble being objective, but decided he could manage for now, at least until he learned so much about the missing truck occupants that he couldn’t help thinking of them as people. Janice was probably already worried about them, but—
Rekchellet, who had been on his way to the control section for much of his recent speech, began talking again. “The route has been recorded inside the driver guide. I can have it print a trip table for you, but it will be quicker simply to set it to backtrack and start at once.”
“Who can go? We’ll have to check with Administration. Also, we don’t have information from the other end…”
“Supplies aren’t unloaded yet…”
“Wouldn’t it be better to examine the record and shortcut to places where the truck stopped?”
The remarks and questions almost drowned each other out. All were vocal; neither Hugh nor Janice attempted to say anything in code. Both were still thinking.
“The supplies don’t matter,” snapped the Crotonite. “They can be unloaded later. They may not even be ours. I am free for ten hours, and Kesserah here can take my next sentry call. That will give me another six. If the search takes longer than that, we can make more involved arrangements — oh, Lightning. The truck has no neutrino transmitter. Shortcutting won’t work…”
“Why not?”
“If they did this on purpose, there’s no way of telling at which stop they actually left; they could have set others into the control before they left. We’ll need to…”
“If they left on purpose, and are concealing themselves on purpose, why are we bothering to look for them?” asked the same being who had suggested the shortcut procedure. “It’s obvious that you want to find them and want to know why they did what they did, and I can understand that; but what good reason can you offer for risking your own safety and the Guild’s property, and possibly slowing Project work, to satisfy irrelevant personal curiosity’”
The Crotonite hesitated, and Janice cut in.
“Maybe not all of them are acting on their own, or in good judgment. They could need help. I agree that Rekchellet should go, and at least one other who can drive the truck or fly or both so that they can search near the track as well as along it.”
“I can set it to drive itself, and do the flying as well, Jan,” was the slightly indignant response. “But we’ll have to get a transmitter. Is there one here in the warehouse we can use without disturbing Spreadsheet-Thinker?”
“There are several here,” said the Locrian supply chief, “but it seems unwise to…”
“I’ll clear it with Administration. This is certainly a safety matter,” Hugh cut in. “Let Rekchellet have it, please. He’ll need it to get his information from Pwanpwan anyway.” The Locrian gestured silently to two of her Erthumoi assistants, who promptly disappeared into the building. Hugh turned his attention to Rekchellet.
“Of course you can go, as far as time is concerned, and I certainly won’t stop you if you think it’s best. But should you go alone? In your best judgment? As a safety specialist?”
After a moment of silence Rekchellet shrugged again. “No. Of course not. Who else can come without upsetting routine?”
Realizing that she’d better speak quickly or not at all, in view of Rekchellet’s tendency to get any given task under way as quickly as possible, Janice keyed in a matter which had taken her interest from the first. She didn’t know where the frozen body had come from or who might consider it personal property, but it was the largest and most complete object Habranha had provided so far bearing any resemblance to a fossil.
“Hadn’t we better unload the body?” she asked.
“Why?” asked Rekchellet. Before the woman could key an answer, he provided one himself. “Oh. I see. A very good idea. If we find the missing people and they don’t want to answer questions, the fact that we possess their specimen may make them cooperative.”
“We’d better find out whether it’s a specimen,” Hugh pointed out. “Ted, is it likely that this could simply be an accident victim, or someone who’s missing from a Habra project?”
“I see no way to tell. I agree with Janice that we should unload it before sending the truck off. Later I or one of us can examine its ornaments more closely and try to identify it.”
Minutes later the truck was trundling eastward toward the ocean on automatic control. Its cockpit windows had been cleared by heaters, and Third-
Supply-Watcher was looking out through them. Rekchellet and two Habras were swooping back and forth above the vehicle. The rest of the supply personnel had returned to their building, while Hugh, Janice, and S’Nash were walking and crawling, this time with no haste, toward the residence area.
Hugh still felt a little tense, and wondered what word might come from the other end of the road to the ocean. He relaxed only a little when the Locrian’s first promised report from the truck reached the safety office on schedule.
“We are still following the road. The truck’s air sweepers are operating much of the time, but the snow has not been very heavy. The fliers are remaining in sight most of the time, as agreed.
Establishment of a routine calmed Hugh enough to let Janice get him away from the office. The Erthumoi left their snakelike satellite for a brief visit to their own quarters, and for a few minutes seriously discussed whether they should get rid of the pressure fluid to free themselves for more varied activity. Both of them felt that this might prove necessary, but both knew that the feeling might be subjective, fed by the general discomfort and inconvenience which went with diving juice and by the curiosity generated by the unoccupied truck. Both taking on and getting rid of the fluid were operations needing hours and calling for much discomfort and reorganization of body mechanics; neither step was ever done lightly, to be reversed again shortly. If they “de-pressed,” either an untrained Erthuma pair would have to take on the duty or part of the Pit work would have to be, by Hugh’s standards, inadequately covered. He could accept neither.