Authors: Alan Dean Foster
“There will be less rissk for uss,” the AAnn assured him sympathetically. “We are ussed to living in the ssandss, among thosse kindss of creaturess that make their homes thussly. You will, of coursse, receive copiess of all reportss as they are prepared, and will be kept fully up to date on all our progress.”
“Fieldwork is usually better carried out by the many than by the few,” the dejected human supervisor concluded. Another time, under different circumstances, he might have felt otherwise, but he was distraught over the unexpected loss of two of his colleagues. Besides, where was the harm in sharing field assignments with the willing AAnn? They were more at home in this kind of country than any human, and their willingness to share data had already been demonstrated. Let them do some of the hard work. With an entire new world to study, catalog, analyze, and report on, his staff was already stretched thin. They could find plenty to occupy themselves besides stitchers.
“I don’t understand.” Hibbing stood by the side of the glassine tower and stared dubiously at the readouts embedded in its smooth, curving side. “Everything was fine as of this time yesterday.” Nearby, Tyree and Souvingnon were examining the contents of the relay box that hugged the side of the tower close to the ground.
Tyree glanced up. “Everything’s working, sir. The extractors just aren’t pulling any water.”
Turning, Hibbing saw his eyewrap darken as he gazed eastward. The site that had been chosen for the main settlement on Comagrave commanded a sweeping view of the spectacular Carmine Cliffs, a geologic upthrust averaging a thousand meters in height that ran for hundreds of kilometers from north to south. Below and to the west were the Bergemon Salt Flats, a perfectly flat pan devoid of vegetation, subsurface liquids, or tectonic instabilities. To the north lay the maze of narrow canyons known as the Fingerlings. One of the most biologically rich areas on the planet, it was but a short journey from the outskirts of Comabraeth community.
Beneath the settlement site, hydrologists had located a sizable prehistoric aquifer big enough to provide a six-hundred-year supply for a city of half a million. A better place to establish the colonial capital of Comagrave could not be found on the planet. There was water in abundance, more than ample landing space for shuttles and aircraft out on the pan, biological and geological riches practically within walking distance. Months had passed without a hint of trouble, during which time the village had grown into a thriving small town of more than ten thousand. There was talk of formalizing it as the capital of the incipient colony.
And now the water, every million acre-feet of it, was gone. Or so his hydrotechs were telling him.
Reluctantly, he lowered his gaze from the glorious, multihued vista spread out before him. Comagrave was not yet developed enough to be able to accommodate tourists, and his position never allowed him longer than a minute or two to be one himself. “How could this happen?”
Souvingnon rose to confront the administrator. At his feet, Tyree continued to fiddle with instrumentation, as if by so doing he could somehow will the water to return. “There are possibilities. Since the original discovery dated the top layer of water to several hundreds of thousands of T-standard years ago, it seems pretty clear to me that the only way it would suddenly vanish is if some radical new regional development did something to affect the underground geology.”
Hibbing nodded slowly. “And the only new regional development is us.”
Souvingnon gestured in the direction of the extraction tower and the attached processing and filtration plant. “Everything above ground is working perfectly. So we have to assume that the problem is subterranean in nature. Personally, I’ve never heard of an aquifer that big disappearing this fast. But this is a new world. Geology isn’t even a perfect science on Earth.” He turned thoughtful. “This region might not be as seismically stable as the original surveyors first assumed. There might have been a catastrophic collapse in the shale strata underlying the aquiferic sands. It could have been set off by the continual vibrations of shuttlecraft landing and, especially, taking off.”
“That doesn’t sound very reasonable.”
Souvingnon sighed. “Since we don’t have a reasonable explanation for what’s happening, I’m starting a search for unreasonable ones. The aquifer is broad, but not deep. Realistically, a subterranean collapse on such a scale is unlikely. Theoretically, it’s possible.”
“What can we do?” Hibbing turned back in the direction of the town. “I’ve already activated emergency rationing procedures. I’m responsible for the health and well-being of nearly fifteen thousand people, Souvingnon, every one of whom needs to drink and occasionally to wash. We don’t have a waste problem—the solid-waste decomposing system needs no water—but I’m going to have to start having supplies tanked in from the Broughlach River. That’s three hundred k’s from here. A couple of months of that will bankrupt our municipal operating budget. As you know, initial planetary R and D stopped supplementing that over a year ago.”
And I’ll be replaced, he thought to himself. They’ll send me somewhere quiet and out of the way to decompose, just like the town’s solid waste. Hibbing did not want to be replaced. He liked his job, liked the beauty and solitude that Comagrave could boast in plenty. It was why he had applied for the position of colonial administrator in the first place.
“We can drill elsewhere.” Souvingnon pointed across the valley, to the colorful crimson rampart. “Maybe at the base of the cliffs.”
“Maybe.” Hibbing was dubious. “But the initial hydro surveys chose this spot because there was water in plenty here. And if the shuttle landings are responsible for what has happened, who’s to say the underground water table hasn’t been collapsed everywhere in the vicinity?”
Tyree finally rose from his inspection, brushing dust from his hands. “We could ask the AAnn.”
The AAnn had a very small deeded scientific outpost to the west of the town, near the edge of the salt pan. They had no view of multihued cliffs, no easy access to the valleys of the Fingerlings. As Hibbing understood it, there were no more than forty individuals working at the reptiloids’ outpost at any one time. Insofar as he knew, they had their own water supply. An emergency line could be laid across the pancake-flat edge of the pan from the alien outpost to the town in a fraction of the time and cost it would take to build one to the Broughlach River.
If
the AAnn had water to spare, and if they were so inclined.
Hibbing considered. Town storage was at 80 percent of capacity. Within a few days, like it or not, they would be tanking in water from the distant Broughlach.
“Let’s pay our scaly neighbors a visit,” he told his engineers softly.
Coblaath SSCDDG met them outside. Standing at the entrance to the AAnn outpost, it was difficult to tell that there was any kind of installation at the edge of the pan at all. That was because, in keeping with AAnn preference and design, the great majority of it was located underground.
“Very hot insside for humanss,” the outpost commander informed them. “You like it warm. We like it hot.”
That was an understatement, Hibbing knew. Vacationing AAnn would have no compunctions at setting up sand baths and scale scratchers inside a working oven. And they liked even less moisture in the air than did humans.
“I appreciate your concern for our welfare.” Hibbing was new to this. He was an administrator, not a diplomat. But having explained the dire situation to his superiors via deep-space beam, he had been given emergency leave to do whatever he thought necessary and best to alleviate the situation.
“You heard what has happened to our water supply?”
The AAnn executed a gesture of third-degree commiseration coupled with fourth-degree understanding, all of which looked like nothing more than gratuitous hand waving to Hibbing. “A terrible missfortune. Who can explain ssuch a thing? We have never encountered ssuch a phenomenon oursselves, and we have ssettled many worldss very ssimilar to Vussussica.”
Hibbing ignored the use of the AAnn cognomen. He was not here to argue the fine points of diplomatic terminology. He had come for help.
“You heard what my engineers have theorized.”
Coblaath gestured, then nodded. “Thiss head movement iss the correct one, yess?”
Hibbing smiled broadly. “That’s correct, yes.”
The AAnn commander drew himself up proudly. “I have been practissing. My people perussed your hydrology report. Your engineerss appear to have analyzed the ssituation mosst thoroughly. We ssurmise that there iss at leasst one, perhapss sseveral vertical upthrusstss of impermeable rock between here and your sstation. Thiss accident of geology keepss our aquifer sseparate from yourss.”
“And you still have plenty of water?” Hibbing tried not to show too much interest, wondering in the midst of his caution if the vertical-pupiled, lizardlike alien would recognize such concern even if it was manifested.
“Truly ample. The equal of what ussed to lie beneath your own esstablishment, I am told.” As the pointed tongue flicked in Hibbing’s direction, the administrator tried not to flinch. “Enough to sspare whatever you need, perhapss even on a permanent bassiss.” He gestured reassurance. “After all, we have only a tiny outposst here, and require very little water for our own needss. Why sshould you, our friendss, not make good usse of it?”
Hibbing was taken aback. The period of difficult, extended negotiations he had been prepared to embark upon in order to secure the minimal amount necessary to keep the station going had not only not materialized, but here was the AAnn commander offering him all the water he needed—and for an unlimited, or at least unspecified, time into the future. The money alone that would be saved . . .
“I hardly know what to say, Commander Coblaath. I had not expected such a generous offer.”
The AAnn’s tail switched sideways in yet another gesture of significance Hibbing was unable to interpret. “While it ssleepss underground, the water doess no one any good. We can help you with the engineering. If we begin a pumping sstation here while your people lay pipe from your end, it will sshorten the time until you can receive our water.”
“Yes, of course it would.” Hibbing had gone from being apprehensive to feeling positively buoyant. But while he had seemingly achieved all he had come for, and much more, the negotiations were not yet completed. “What would you require in the way of payment? My staff and I don’t expect you to give us access to this water out of the goodness of your hearts.”
“But that iss why we are doing thiss.” Coblaath managed to sound, if not look, surprised. “We would not let our good friendss want for water. We assk only one thing.”
Hibbing waited, trying to hide his unease. “What might that be, Commander?”
“We wissh only to be accorded equal sstatuss in thiss region. To be free to go where we wissh, to do our own sscientific work without having firsst to ssubmit it for approval to your ressearch authority, to move about as we require. A little freedom of action, that iss all. Iss not too much to assk in return for ssaving your largesst community on Vussussica—your pardon, on Comagrave. Iss it?”
Hibbing hesitated. Did he have that kind of authority? The AAnn wasn’t asking for equal colony status, or control over anything. Simply the ability to cut out the red tape that hampered the free movement of his own staff. What harm could there be in acceding? It wasn’t as if Comagrave was home to military secrets that needed to be protected. The money this would save . . .
And he had been given the authority to deal with the emergency as best he saw fit, hadn’t he? If the authorities back on Earth didn’t like it, they could deal with the agreement after the fact. Meanwhile, the station would have all the water it needed, and the AAnn would have a reason to continue to maintain cordial relations with the staff and inhabitants. If anything, Hibbing felt, in agreeing he was doing something to promote better interspecies relations.
“I think I can safely say there will be no problem in getting my people to agree to such a simple and straightforward request. That’s really all you want in return?”
“That iss all.” The commander extended a hand in imitation of the human gesture. “Thiss is the proper indication, iss it not?”
Hibbing took the proffered hand. The three fingers and opposable thumb were tipped with sharp claws that had been painted with colorful whorls. He felt hard scales slide against his own soft flesh. The sensation was not unpleasant. He was charmed by the AAnn’s effort to mimic human ways.
“Indeed it is. I extend my thanks and that of my entire staff, not to mention those of everyone resident in the town.”
“Tell them on behalf of mysself and the Imperial Board of Intersspeciess Relationss that I am mosst delighted we were able to help. Truly.”
Like everyone else on Comagrave, Pilwondepat kept abreast—or more properly,
athorax
—of weekly happenings through reports that were freely available via the planetary net. Not only did it help him to stay well informed and aid him in his own research, but it was an excellent way to practice his Terranglo. The only information available in Low or High Thranx came via sealed communiqués or direct orders from the tiny thranx complement living on sufferance at Comabraeth community. During the past months he had become used not only to speaking in Terranglo, but to thinking in it. It made him less thranx, but not necessarily more human.
Presently, he was perusing a seemingly minor account about a poisoning that had occurred in the Talathropic Pond ecosystem. The Talathropics lay nearly a thousand miles from Comabraeth. A human resources-analysis team had been following up a stock satellite report, prospecting on the ground for possible ore bodies of certain metals, when one of their number had been bitten by a local arthropod. The man’s circulatory system had reacted severely—so much so that he had not been expected to live. The site was too far from Comabraeth for help to reach the afflicted in time.
Only the presence in the same area of an AAnn troika that was taking mineral samples made the difference, as the AAnn possessed on their craft a small lab for synthesizing regenerative proteins. Ratiocination of the toxin’s molecular structure allowed them to concoct a crude antidote that saved the man’s life. As the report detailed, his friends were effusively grateful for the reptiloids’ swift and efficacious intervention.