Eventually the young woman called, "There it is. Be ready, Bob." The Hunter felt his pipe being lifted. Then came, "All right, we're right over it," and almost instantly warm water closed over him and his protection.
He made an eye, but there was little to see until he reached the bottom. The pipe was nearly horizontal, and turning slowly; sometimes he could see the line from the buoy marking the location, sometimes his eye was directed away from it. The boat was not visible, as the Hunter had formed the eye a little way inside the pipe to minimize stray light, and the open end of the pipe itself was slanted slightly downward.
Bob had felt the tension go off the line when the Hunter reached bottom, and had stopped paying out. However, the alien found himself almost buried in the soft mud, and buzzed the signal to pull up slightly. The spin had stopped, of course, but slowly resumed as torsion in the rope tried to relieve itself, and he slowly scanned the whole circumference.
The light was more than adequate, and he could see a long, low hillock on the mud, corresponding roughly in size to Maeta's description. There was less coral this far from the reef, but some had grown on and over the ridge; the feature must have been there for some years at least.
He was ten or twelve feet to one side of the nearest \part of the elevation. He extended his eye briefly, to see which way the canoe was pointing, buzzed directions, and in a minute or less was over the ridge near its center. Then he gave the "down" signal, and in a moment was on the bottom once more, not so deeply buried this time.
Feeling at least as much tension as any of the others had been showing, he extended a pseudopod into the slimy mud. It was at least six inches thick even at the top of the hillock, but under that six-inch layer was metal. He was tempted to leave the pipe entirely, but very luckily did not. He kept groping with hair-fine tendrils, adding detail to the picture he was developing. Yes, the girls were right. It was his quarry's ship, the upper portion at least nearly intact. He could feel and read symbols identifying service connections, and presently found one of the small valves which his own species used for entrance and exit. The larger ports, for cargo and for the trained animals they sometimes used to manipulate controls, would be in the lower part of the hull, which seemed to be right-side up.
The access valve was shut. He felt around for the power control and activated it, but was not very surprised when nothing happened. It was much harder to operate the manual control, but after several minutes he had the opening cracked enough to let himself flow in. He thought once again of leaving the pipe entirely -and entering the ship with his whole substance, but once again decided to wait. It was not real foresight, at least not conscious foresight, but it was lucky.
He buzzed a "yes" to those above, blaming himself for not ending their suspense sooner, and reached farther into the hull through the partly open valve.
He had time to realize what was happening to him, but not enough to do anything about it.
11. First Aid
The three in the outrigger received and correctly interpreted the Hunter's last signal, and for some time were far too excited and exultant to pay any attention to events on the bottom. None of them was ever sure just how much time passed before anyone began to wonder why no more signals were coming through; and even for Bob it took still longer for curiosity to become anxiety.
Eventually he gave a few jerks to the rope-the surface-to-depth telegraph was still only a plan. Naturally, there was now no response. He decided that his symbiont must have left the pipe and was exploring the ship in detail. No plans had been made for signaling or any other action in such a situation, and Bob spent some time abusing himself verbally for the omission. The Hunter agreed later that they had both been pretty stupid, but insisted on taking his share of the blame, since he had after all been in a much better position to foresee what actually happened. After all, Seever had mentioned "normal police procedures."
Something like half an hour was spent waiting and occasionally pulling on the rope before the three became really disturbed. Maeta finally went overboard and swam down to see, if possible, what was going on, but even diving goggles did not let her examine the pipe in real detail. She was quite sure, when she pulled it out of the mud, that the Hunter was inside, and to make really certain she checked by touch.
For two reasons she failed to detect the tendrils the Hunter had extended from his main mass; they had broken when she lifted the pipe; and they were too fine anyway. The damage to the Hunter when they broke was negligible; the memory patterns which formed his identity were stored with multiple redundancy throughout his tissue. Cutting him into two equal parts would have been bad unless they could have rejoined almost at once, but the few milligrams he had lost in the ship would not have bothered him even if he had been conscious.
The ship had been booby-trapped with a half-living substance designed to immobilize members of his species; but it had no effect on the far coarser human cells, so Maeta herself was able to return to the surface, get her breath, and report.
Bob, wasting no more time, hauled up the pipe. He had been hoping that the trouble was merely electrical failure up to this, point; but when he left his hand in contact with the jelly for several minutes without becoming aware of the Hunter's presence by any sort of word or signal; he knew that something much more serious was wrong. They headed for shore at once, with Bob wondering aloud why the Hunter had never given him a course in first aid for symbionts.
They headed at top speed for the Seevers' home, giving no thought to practical jokers. Fortunately their bicycles seemed intact. Maeta carried the pipe, since Bob had only one really usable arm and none of the bicycle carriers was adequate. The girl found it quite awkward; she had to carry the pipe open end up, after discovering that the Hunter's unconscious form-to use the noun loosely-was slowly pouring out when she held it horizontally.
None of them really expected that Seever could be of much help, but no other line of action occurred to them.
They were rather disconcerted, upon entering the reception room, to find Jenny seated beside her usual desk with the damaged foot on a hassock in front of her. She was talking, apparently quite amiably, to Andre desChenes, who did not react at all at the sight of the newcomers. No one else was in the room.
Jenny saw the pipe, but did not realize at first that it was occupied. Her first assumption, she admitted later, was that something had gone wrong with the detector. Then she realized that they would hardly have brought such a problem to her father, and decided that something more serious had happened; but the delay kept her from asking reflexively any hasty and injudicious questions with the boy present. She came, she confessed, within a split second of asking whether the ship they had found was an instrument error.
"Is anyone with your father?" Maeta asked before any of them could make a slip.
"No, he's in the next room, or if he isn't, call," replied Jenny.
The three went into the inner room, and met Seever just entering by the other door. He looked at Maeta's burden and frowned.
"Trouble?" Bob described the situation tersely, and Seever looked closely into the pipe at its unresponsive occupant.
"You've touched him and nothing happened."
"I kept my hand on him all the way to shore and nothing happened."
"Hmph." The doctor was out of his depth as far as direct experience went, but he was a logical man. "I can't tell offhand whether he’s unconscious, paralyzed, or dead. We'll assume one of the first two, since the last doesn't give us anything to go on. Assuming he's alive, the first thing is to keep him that way. We know he needs oxygen. He may be getting enough through that six or eight square inches, since he can't be using much at the moment, but I'd say we'd better pour him into something which will give him more exposed surface. What's his volume-a couple of quarts? A pie plate won't be enough and I don't suppose separating him among several would be a very good idea. He must have some essential continuity to his structure, even if shape doesn't mean anything to him. Here, maybe this will do." He had found a large enamel basin, and they inverted the pipe over it. After a few moments Bob suggested that the plug at the upper end also be removed. Seever finally managed this while Maeta held up the pipe itself.