Close to Critical by Hal Clement Read Free Book Online

he must have missed the last couple of sentences of Aminadabarlee's castigation; but the Drommian was not through. He turned to Raeker, whose face had gone even paler than usual, and resumed. "It makes me sick to think that at times I have left my son in charge of human caretakers during my years on Earth. I had assumed your race to be civilized. If this piece of stupidity achieves its most likely result, Earth will pay the full price; not a human-driven ship will land again on any planet of the galaxy that values Drommian feelings. The story of your idiocy will cross the light-years, and no human ship will live to enter Drommian skies. Mankind will have the richly earned contempt of every civilized race in - "
    He was cut off, but not by words. A rending crash sounded from the speaker, and a number of loose objects visible on the screen jerked abruptly toward a near wall. They struck it loudly and rebounded, but without obeying the laws of reflection. They all bounced the same way - in the direction which Raeker recognized with a sinking feeling as that of the tender's air lock. A book flew past the pickup area in the same direction, and struck a metal instrument traveling more slowly.
    But this collision went unheard. No more sound came from the speaker; the tender was silent, with the silence of airlessness.

    III. CEREBRATION; TRANSPORTATION; EMIGRATION

    NICK Chopper stood in the doorway of his hut and thought furiously. Behind him the seven other survivors of the raid lay in various stages of disrepair. Nick himself was not entirely unscathed, but he was still able to walk - and, if necessary, fight, he told himself grimly. All of the others except Jim and Nancy would be out of useful action for several days at least.
    He supposed that Fagin had been right in yielding to Swift as he had; at least, the savage had kept his word about letting Nick collect and care for his wounded friends. Every time Nick thought of the attack, however, or even of Swift, he felt like resuming the war. It would have given him intense pleasure to remove Swift's scales one by one and use them to shingle a hut in full view of their owner. He was not merely brooding, however; he was really thinking. For the first time in a good many years, he was questioning seriously a decision of Fagin's. It seemed ridiculous that the Teacher could get away from the cave village without help; he hadn't been able to fight Swift's people during the attack, and if he had any powers Nick didn't know about that was certainly the time to use them. Getting away at night didn't count; he'd be tracked and caught first thing in the morning.
    But wait a minute. What could the cave-dwellers actually do to Fagin? The hard white stuff the Teacher was covered with - or made out of, for all Nick knew - might be proof against knives and spears; the point had never occurred to Nick or any of his friends. Maybe that was why Fagin was being so meek now, when his people could be hurt; maybe he planned to act more constructively when he was alone. It would be nice to be able to talk it over with the Teacher without Swift's interference. Of course, the chief couldn't eavesdrop very effectively, since he couldn't understand English, but he would know that a conference was going on, and would be in a pretty good position to block any activity planned therein. If it were practical to get Swift out of hearing - but if that were possible, the whole thing would be solved anyway. The meat of the problem was the fact that Swift couldn't be handled.
    Of course, it was night, and therefore raining. The invaders were being protected by the village fires, at the moment; however, Nick reflected, no one was protecting the fires themselves. He glanced upward at the thirty-to fifty-foot raindrops drifting endlessly out of the black sky, following one of them down to a point perhaps three hundred yards above his head. There it vanished, fading out in ghostly fashion as it encountered the updraft from