“I sense irony. I like to think I am, of course, but there are many other challenges to the art. Some beings are much more difficult to read than others. Erthumoi collectively are the easiest, Samians by far the hardest of the Six, though there are of course exceptions like you two in both groups. I like to think I’m an expert with Samians.” Janice had drawn her brows together; her husband was sure what she was thinking about, whether S’Nash knew or not. In fact, both must have been wrong, for her next words rolled out almost without planning or thought on her own part.
“You’d get quite a reading if we told Ged that you’ve known all along what Ennissee was doing, wouldn’t you? That the people at your medical station had enjoyed his feelings as he stole that specimen? I wonder whether they merely gave tacit assistance, or actively tricked him into doing it. That they passed the information on to you and maybe other Naxians here at Pitville so he could be kept under observation as a source of — of amusement?”
“How did you-?” once again the Naxian cut off his speaker too late; as if realizing this, he turned it back on almost as though making a gesture of surrender. “You’re surprised — but you didn’t know until I spoke — you’re triumphant now — I told you myself, then — but you must have had some suspicion, or you could never have said such a thing! Where did the suspicion come from?”
“Like me, Jan is uneasy about coincidence,” her husband answered. “I know as well as you do we Erthumoi often have an unrealistic idea of what makes an improbable coincidence, but you should have allowed for that. As I’m sure you can see, it was all her idea, not mine. We just aren’t as conscious of what goes on in our heads as you people are, I guess. At least. I don’t know why I can recognize Jan’s face or voice. Anyway, you’ve certainly told us now. I wonder what Ged will say, and do? It’s a pity Jan and I can only infer his feelings from his words and actions, isn’t it? They should form a real work of art.”
“But you won’t really — but you will! Why? You don’t feel any strong emotion that I can find. Neither of you does, most of the time. You’ve been very disappointing that way, though you’ve been very helpful in — why do you intend so firmly to tell Barrar what I just confessed.”
“Call it an experiment,” Janice replied, as expressionlessly as she could. She wondered whether the Naxian were telling the truth about her and Hugh’s being hard to read, but for the moment didn’t care much, since she had made up her mind. “Come along, S’Nash. You wouldn’t want to miss it, would you?”
The Naxian watched as the Erthumoi couple turned toward the central office. It/he started to follow them, hesitated and turned away, shivered the length of its/his serpentine body, reached a decision, and followed once more. The Erthuma was right; this would be something no one had ever read from a Samian — though what the Samian would do next—
He was civilized, of course. There would be no risk of violence. But he was in charge of work assignments.
It would certainly — almost certainly — be worth it.
It wasn’t, S’Nash insisted later to Hugh and Janice. It was, in fact, very disappointing. Ged Barrar was far too objective, and his internal simmerings were just barely readable. They had been a real challenge, to look at the bright side. The Naxian’s eyes had remained fixed on his unwaveringly and the snakelike body might have been cast as a tight coil of metal. The Erthumoi had watched with equal intensity.
“I can’t decently complain,” Barrar said after some moments of silence. “I was doing very much the same thing for my own plans. Still, we can’t have this sort of thing going on too freely among people who need to trust each other, can we?” He paused thoughtfully, and might have been examining the charts on his walls, though not even S’Nash could tell where he was actually looking.
“The Pits are getting pretty deep,” he said at length. “Spreadsheet-Thinker feels we need a communication center at the bottom of each. It will, of course, have to be manned by an Erthuma or a Habra eventually, but until the pressure becomes excessive a real communication specialist would probably be best to set things up. Don’t you agree?”
“Well…” began S’Nash.
“There’s really no one but a Naxian I can assign, anyway. Please spread the word. I’d prefer volunteers, of course. You will have to tell me just what equipment will be needed — remember it will have to stand liquid air temperatures. I know you Naxians already have good armor for that. I’ll need a listing in, oh, six hours or so. I can tell you in two more when the gear will be available, and set up a watch schedule. I’m sure I won’t have to draft someone who just happens to be handy; there will be plenty of volunteers, won’t there? Let me know.”
The Naxian maintained its/his tension for another half minute, though the Erthumoi could only guess why. Something was holding its/his attention, and did so until Barrar finally said rather loudly, “That’s it, S’Nash. Any questions?”
It/he shivered, relaxed, intimated understanding, and accompanied Hugh and Janice out of the office.
“You’re still alive,” the woman remarked. “Oh, yes. It was interesting, but not inspiring.
What are you folks going to do for the next few hours’?”
“Do you care?”
“Not for the reason you suspect. I’ve already said you two are rather disappointing as subjects; you don’t seem to have very intense emotions. Janice now was just cold-bloodedly trying to observe the results of the ‘experiment’ she was performing. There was none of the nice anger or satisfaction of revenge feeling which some of my less artistic acquaintances would have expected.”
“And maybe even wanted?” cut in Hugh.
“Conceivably. But that would call for a rather— well — crude observer. What are you planning?”
“Work, of course,” keyed Hugh. “We’ve been letting that slide for much too long. I’m surprised Ged didn’t have something to say about it. Maybe he’s too bothered by what happened to his own hopes. At the rate the Pits are going, digging and emplacement routines are going to have to be changed pretty quickly now, and we’re not ready for it. I wasn’t really expecting to get enough Erthumoi able to do the job; there aren’t enough of us on the planet, and most of them can’t seem to learn enough personal control to work safely with diving juice. I was hoping we could solve the Habra armor problem before we had to go recruiting on other Erthumoi worlds.”
“Just what’s the difficulty?” the Naxian asked.
“Thermal insulation. They never bothered with it for their wings, which aren’t living tissue. In their undersea equipment they just make sure their diving fluid doesn’t leak around the wing roots, and flap at their pleasure — an experienced Habra submariner talks casually of ‘flying’ under water. If they tried that in the Pits, their wings would shatter almost at once at liquid air temperatures. Ted said something about a breakthrough not long ago; I’m calling him again as soon as we get to the office.”
“I thought he was just one of your safety people.”
“He is, but he really wants to do Pit work himself, and has been keeping in touch with the Habras who are doing the armor development. Stay with us; you may get a kick out of watching me get good news — or bad.”
“Even second hand, I would prefer the former.”
Some hours later, he expanded on that remark.
“Hugh, I’m still refining my skills with Habras, but right now they seem even happier than you. I’ve watched six of them now in the Pits, and while the analogy may not be good, I’d say they were dancing. Even you must be getting some sort of impression — if your own glee isn’t drowning it out.”