The Nethneen’s calm efficiency slowed Molly’s heartbeat to something near normal, though no Human tumbling through darkness in near-free fall is ever likely to be completely at ease.
A gradual realization that her fall had ceased helped even more to restore her equanimity. At least, she reflected, there was one good point to Enigma: the worst thing about a fall was not the sudden stop at the end. Both the light and her sense of touch, through her thin gloves, told her that she was on sand once more. The rock must have leveled, or even formed a hollow, where the blowing grains could collect. First things first, however; where was the robot?
She twisted the lamp control to narrow beam and swept it back and forth in the direction from which she thought she must have come, widening the search angle more and more as she saw nothing and grew less and less sure of her own sense of direction. After several tense minutes, there was a gleam of light on metal nearly ninety degrees from where she had thought to find it. She nearly panicked again as it occurred to her that she might have been right and the robot was now passing her to one side, but she retained enough self-control not to leap toward it. Holding the light beam as steadily as she could, she finally decided that the cylinder was coming almost straight toward her and reported the fact to the others, receiving a variety of nonverbal sounds of relief in response.
“You know,” Molly added, “if you folks get back soon enough, it might be worth trying to block that hole completely with the ship. If the wind stops, the robot will also, I suppose, and I won’t get any farther in.”
“But don’t you want to find your ice?” asked Charley innocently. Molly, for once, found herself with no answer ready.
“It may be worth trying.” Joe also ignored the Kantrick’s question. “That won’t start the machine back this way, though.”
“But if it turns out that it’s not too far from the hole, you or Carol could come and fix the controls. You could go on down to the ice with me, or at least look for it for a reasonable time. Would either of you be willing?”
“Of course, it’s planetary structure,” Carol remarked thoughtfully. “I don’t really suppose Joe wants to spend more time than he can help away from his map, but it certainly sounds like fun to me. We’ll see what things look like when we get there.”
“But how…” began the Kantrick.
" ’Scuse me a minute, Charley,” Molly cut in. “Sorry to interrupt, but the robot is getting close and I’m going to have to travel a little to be sure I’m in its path. With no horizon, I’m even less sure of up and down than usual, and walking is awkward. Remember I’m out of control when I’m off the ground, just as everyone but Joe is. Please let me concentrate for a minute.”
“Please keep us informed.”
It was Joe who uttered the words and Charley rather than Molly who was surprised at his doing so after her request. He must have good reason, she assumed, and started talking.
“It’s about fifteen meters away, still traveling at its set pace. I think I’m right in front of it now, and it’s heading right at me. It’s back at its basic height above the ground, Joe; it must have decided it was past the eddy. Here it comes. I’m getting onto its field shaper—no, I think it will be easier to ride right on top. I see you put some tie-downs there, too, Charley, and I’ll use some of this rope—there. You can talk now. I’m safely aboard, and riding with the thing wherever it’s going.”
“Can you see where?” asked Carol. “What sort of place are you in? Is it more of a tunnel or a real cave?”
Molly swept her beam around. “Tunnel fits it better so far, though it’s a very big one—forty or fifty meters high and three times or more that width. I’m fairly close to one side.”
“Is the robot following a straight path?” asked Joe.
“I can’t be sure. It doesn’t leave any track even in the sand, of course, and we’re over plain rock again.”
“Would it be convenient for you to drag a foot and leave an occasional mark, if you do cross any more sand, so that we—I—could get some idea of your actual track? I admit I should set up some larger-scale recording procedures here, but I may not have time to do that before the boat arrives and we have to come for you; and of course I am to blame for not thinking to do it beforehand, anyway.”
“If any of us gets to the end of this operation without bumping our heads on something we’ve left undone, he or she will be very lonely,” replied Molly. “Sure, I’ll make tracks whenever I can, and look back at them for as long as the light allows. At the moment it doesn’t look promising; the floor is getting steeper again, and there doesn’t seem much chance of sand or anything else loose collecting on it. I’ll watch, though. I certainly don’t want to fall asleep.”
“Better tie yourself on, just in case.”
“Thanks, I’ve already done that, Charley. Do I really need to keep talking? There’s nothing new to see or to say for the time being, and so far at least you can keep track of the robot.”
“All right, relax unless you really have something to say,” agreed Joe. “One of us will call you every few minutes to make sure nothing has taken you by surprise; please answer.”
“Of course.”
Nothing visible occurred before the party lifted off on its way back to the Molly-trap, as Carol was calling it, though more and more things were going on in the Human’s mind. She knew she was not traveling rapidly, but the passage never lost at least some downward slope; she was getting farther and farther below the surface. This was good in a way, as it was presumably bringing her closer and closer to the ice that she was still sure must be somewhere below; but as time went on, she began to think more and more often how nice it would be to have company in this vast expanse of darkness. Not just talking company, but touching company. Rovor, her husband, for first choice, or little Buzz, but they were parsecs away; and of course it didn’t have to be Human, Joe or Carol would have been quite acceptable, not merely because they could control the robot.
“We’re well on the way.” It was Carol’s voice this time. “Joe is a little worried.”
“I suppose the signal from the robot is getting lost,” Molly answered.
“I’m afraid so,” said Joe himself. “I am doing everything I can with the sensitivity of the equipment on the boat, and I have already calculated as well as possible how far you are from the place where you fell.”
“What’s your answer?”
“About two kilometers.”
“That’s reasonable, assuming it’s been a fairly straight line—which is something I wouldn’t have guaranteed. Have you any idea of the uncertainty?”
“About the same, I’m afraid.”
“Why? Electromagnetic timing is good to millimeters at planetary ranges.”
“My fault again. I sacrificed resolving power for speed, and wanted only broad measures of the winds. It seemed likely that small local ripples would be more nuisance than help in working out planetary circulation.”
Molly had to admit that he was probably right. “A two-kilo uncertainty still seems pretty big, though.”
“It does to me, as well,” replied the Nethneen, “but inconsistencies in the measurements of the last hour or so force me to admit the figure.”
For the first time, Mary Warrender Chmenici began to feel real worry about her own safety. Two minutes later the anxiety deepened.