It was fortunate that he did not. It was one of her remarks which dropped the most important piece of the jigsaw puzzle into place for him. The remark was painful to him, painful enough so that he could not resist arguing, in fact, but it proved useful.
"I'm afraid I felt better the other time I fought thirst this way, Hunter," she said. "I suppose it isn't working so well this time because I've been hurt so. You're sure I won't die of thirst this time?"
"Unless it takes two or three days for us to be found," the symbiont assured her, "you're in no real danger. With enough food, I could get the water to keep you alive indefinitely, though perhaps not very comfortably. I'm getting a little into you from the sea, too-more than would come through your skin with out help, in spite of what you were saying."
"That's hard to believe," she said slowly and drowsily. "The other time I didn't get thirsty at all. I re member." The Hunter was slightly irritated by his failure at what the human beings considered a simple job. His answer showed this slightly.
"It may have been your additional reserves, Maeta, but I suspect it's just ordinary human good-old-times reaction," he said. "There is just no way that significant amounts of water-even sea water-could get through your skin, which is effectively designed to keep water inside your system. If any did get in, it wouldn't help your thirst at all.”
"It did. I remember. Twice."
"But you weren't hurt, and you were only a few hours without water, and you knew it was coming soon. You've never been in a situation like this, I'm sure."
"I wasn't hurt, no, and the first time, you're right-it was only five or six hours and I'd emptied my can teen without thinking how long I was going to be there. I was a little careless in those days. The second time I'd accidentally spilled my bucket during the first hour, and I'd done a lot of work and was really thirsty before I noticed it had tipped. The boat didn't come back to pick me up until way after dark. It was a very long day. And I soaked in the lagoon. And I didn't get thirsty."
A thought crossed the Hunter's mind, startling enough to silence him for several seconds while he tried to work out its implications.
Finally he asked, "How long ago was all this? The last two or three years, or back when you were very young?"
Maeta answered with no hesitation. "Not very long ago. Both times, I was collecting for the Museum Ex change-that's the group that arranges trades of specimens between exhibitors and collectors all over the world-and I didn't start working with them until after I started at the library, of course. I didn't know about them until then." "Less than three years, then."
"About that," she agreed.
The Hunter decided not to ask for details about the carelessness she had been showing at about that time. She was a very alert young woman, he had come to realize^ and lie did not want her thinking, just yet, along the lines which had just occurred to him. He was not sure enough yet; one didn't jump to conclusions, at least not out loud.
Also, he didn't know whether to be annoyed at the waste of the time spent on looking for spaceships, or to be relieved that there would be no need to deliver anymore messages to the one with the booby trap.
14. Professional
The amphibian settled onto Eight's lagoon about an hour before sunset, and taxied close to the beach where the castaways were waiting. A rubber dinghy emerged from the waist hatch, followed by Dr. Seever. He paddled ashore without waiting for anyone to accompany him, and looked over the three standing and lying at thewater's edge. He whistled gently as he saw Maeta.
"Ladies first, it looks like," he remarked as he stepped out of the dinghy and pulled it ashore. He started to bend down for a closer examination, and was visibly startled at the cheerful way the girl spoke.
"I'm reasonably all right, Doctor," she said. The Hunter is with me, and all I need is a gallon or so of water. Better check up on Bob; he got some cuts when we landed."
"I'll last," Bob forestalled questioning. "I was getting feverish two or three hours ago, and Mae noticed it. She told the Hunter to come over and clean me out. I objected, but you don't argue with her, as you may have noticed. She had the Hunter on her side, any way. He took care of the bugs and went back to her, so I'm all right for a while."
"And how about me?" asked Andre".
"A broken shoulder, I think," Bob said to the doc tor. "He may look the best, if you don't count that bruise, but he probably does need you the most."
Seever sighed. "Hunter, if your people really decide to make close contact with humanity, medical practice is certainly going to change a lot. I suppose I should be grateful that it won't disappear entirely, though maybe I wouldn't mind retiring early at that. Come on, all of you. I'll work on you in the plane, Andy; I gather you've joined the group."
"Well," said Bob, "we have to do something to keep him from sticking skewers through people just to see if they can live through it. Maybe you should train him as a surgical assistant, Doc."
By the time the amphibian reached Ell, Seever had immobilized the broken shoulder, used human remedies on Bob's contusions, and dressed Maeta's in juries for the sake of appearances. The Hunter was impatient to get back, since he did not want to discuss his new conclusions in front of Andre, who could be counted on to contribute to the violation of several regulations if he heard them. The boy had been convinced for the moment that he should keep word of the "green things" to himself by stressing the earlier argument-that they didn't want the word to get around, and would be unlikely to form friendships with anyone who let out their secret. It was obvious that more steps were going to have to be taken, but no one knew just what they would be.
The main thing was to get a Castorian professional xenobiologist to work on Bob, and the Hunter wanted to get back to Ell for that purpose. He had finally decided which were the key data, and fitted them together into a coherent picture-the moving generator shield, the booby-trapped spaceship, the fact that the fugitive's ship was in so much better shape than his own had been, the room in the library with the large armchair, the library itself, Maeta's session of carelessness and her experience in fighting thirst with a dip in the sea, and the results of his own staying with Bob for over seven years. He was sure that police procedure meant little now, since the Castorian police had left long before. What he needed was the head quarters of the team which was evaluating Earth and humanity.
And it was quite obvious where they were. There remained just the small, practical problem of getting in touch with a group of scientists who had been-warned that a dangerous criminal might still be loose on Earth, without being killed by them. The messages at the ship were useless; the scientists might possibly visit it once a year, if they felt they could spare the time. Another message had to be delivered, but not to the ship. The place was obvious now, and the Hunter was angry with himself for not thinking of it earlier. The method of delivery was almost as obvious, but the Hunter rather hoped that his human colleagues would make themselves look as foolish as he himself had done. He was quite frank about this, when the entire in-group except Andre were gathered in Maeta's hospital room the night of their rescue from Eight. The girl had quickly mastered the art of relaying what he said to her, without having to pause to listen to him, and the exposition went smoothly.
"First," he started with a question, "is young Andre safely asleep? He's displayed more skill than I like at hearing what isn't meant for him."