Hugh tried following this suggestion, but found that even at greatest negative buoyancy he still sank less rapidly than the group. He would have to use one arm for holding on, at least at first — maybe he could lash himself to the cluster if there were enough cord, or put an arm through part of the harness. He reminded himself once more that he had no depth problem himself, since both he and the Habras could face sea-bottom pressure with their equipment, and strove to match the apparent calm of the Cephallonian who was being dragged toward an unpleasant death. His kind could stand several kilometers without technological assistance as a result of their evolution, and had never had any reason to develop the diving fluid.
The big swimmer had been right; human arms could reach between him and the pod far more effectively than the Habras. The thruster was firmly entangled in harness straps, but Hugh could, he was sure, work it loose in a minute or two. He reported this to the others. The Cephallonian repeated his earlier desire not to lose the equipment.
“Let them attach lines to both sides of my gear, long enough to let the pod hang three or four meters below me and fastened far enough from my head so I can direct myself upward. Don’t free the tangle, please, until you are sure they’ve finished this with at least four lines; I know they have that many. If you can see well enough underwater, please check their knots at both ends. They know I mean no offense by asking this.”
It was getting darker as they sank, but the light which had annoyed Rekchellet was still part of Hugh’s armor, and he switched it on. He was able to help with the knotting and, as a matter of tact as well as safety, asked the Habras to check his own work. There was no way for the Cephallonian to see that far back on his own body, but he seemed willing to accept the word of the others that the attachments were secure.
“All right, Erthuma, you may free the pod from my harness if you can. It will help if you are reasonably quick; I’m beginning to feel some slight need for air. I foolishly did not wear full work equipment, not expecting to go any distance from the surface, and had been working under the boat for some time when this incident occurred.”
Hugh reflected that if the swimmer could spend that much air in talk things couldn’t be very serious yet; then he remembered that the other’s vocal equipment was a tympanic membrane not driven by an air stream from his lungs, and bent hastily to his task.
His estimate had been a little optimistic, but it was less than three minutes before the thruster fell away from the stream-lined body. None of the others had uttered a word during this time, though the water around them was growing frighteningly dark beyond the range of Hugh’s light.
As he felt freed of the weight, the Cephallonian nosed upward and set his swimming muscles into action. It turned out almost at once that he could not go straight up without having his flukes encounter the lines which held the pod. but he modified his climb angle slightly and continued to swim. Hugh could see after a moment that he was actually dragging motor, thruster, and housing upward, after another moment that the climb was faster than the Erthuma’s armor rose at full positive buoyancy; he had to swim. The ascent was uneventful and silent; nothing more was said even about oxygen shortage.
They were close enough to the surface to see the bright area of the port, where sunlight fell on open water, before they met a dozen descending Habras pulling lines behind them. The Cephallonian firmly refused to relinquish his burden until these were ail attached to the thruster, but the moment he was assured of this he spoke to Hugh with urgency obvious even through the translator “All right, cut me free!” Hugh managed this in four quick slashes, and the long, streamlined body surged upward. Hugh, the Habras, and the equipment followed much more slowly. By the time they reached the surface, the Cephallonian had almost finished replenishing his personal oxygen reserve, and was awaiting them impatiently. Hugh saw no reason to help remount the thruster, but wanted to get the swimmer somewhere where Reekess could see him, and suggested that they rest out on the ice for a while.
“I can relax better afloat,” the answer came. “It’s much harder to breathe without water to support one’s weight, even here. However, I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable ashore. By all means emerge, and I will stay as close as I can. I am interested in learning how you happened to appear so conveniently.”
Hugh told him frankly, while climbing a cross between a grooved ramp and a flight of stairs leading out of the water and presumably designed for armored Habras, that he and Reekess had been told about his recent accident, that they had a friend now undergoing Naxian treatment, and were interested in learning how effective this had been. He also introduced himself and the Crotonite, who had come to the edge of the water upon seeing Hugh emerge.
They quickly learned that willingness to talk about personal surgery was not confined to Erthumoi; the opportunity motivated the Cephallonian, who introduced himself as Shefcheeshee, to hurl himself onto the open ice after all and allow — actually, encourage — inspection of his personal repairs.
Since neither Hugh nor Reekess had known him before, they had to take the patient’s word for the state of things prior to the accident and the damage done by the latter. All either of them could see was that the skin of Shefcheeshee’s flukes and for half a meter forward of their point of attachment was visibly, though not strikingly, lighter than the blue-gray shade of his dorsal surface and the near white of the lower. The swimmer claimed that that entire part of his anatomy had been severed, that he narrowly escaped bleeding to death, that only heroic first aid measures by the natives had spared him from the latter fate, and that the Naxians who had arranged the regeneration of the lost body parts were benefactors of all galactic intelligence.
This was how Hugh summarized the account later, to Janice. The Cephallonian himself went into enormous detail, much of which he must have picked up from others since he had admittedly been unconscious almost from the moment of the accident itself. He was starting to go into factors leading up to this event when Hugh managed to change the subject. He later regretted doing this; it almost certainly cost him data which he had to seek out specifically and at some inconvenience afterward. He failed to realize this at the time, though, especially since the new discussion also proved useful.
This dealt with Shefcheeshee’s work with the sea bottom project in which the submarine was being used, and found the swimmer still enthusiastic. There had to be fossils in the bottom sediments; they should be possible to find even by simple dredging and coring; the information they would supply would be of enormous interest and value to the Habras themselves, as well as to scientists from other worlds. Shefcheeshee himself held no strong opinions one way or the other about off-planet origin of the Habras, inclining casually like most people to the positive, and seemed to care even less about the possibility that they might be descendants of the Seventh Race. He was an enthusiast, but an unusually objective one.
“I’d like to hear as much as possible about any results you get,” the Erthuma finally tried to stem the word flow. “You’re publishing them, I trust.”
“Oh, yes. We’re keeping careful records, which the Guild maintains for us, and have published ten papers so far.” Hugh found that statement impressive and somewhat annoying; he had thought himself familiar with all the significant Habranhan paleontology in progress. More honestly, he had thought his own group was doing it all. First S’nash and Barrar had mentioned other work on the dark hemisphere, then whatever Ennissee was doing, and now this. He wondered briefly how Spreadsheet-Thinker would react to the news, and then whether she knew it already and hadn’t considered it worth mentioning to her safety chief. But the Cephallonian was talking on.