Hal Clement - Close to Critical

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Close to Critical by Hal Clement.

SOL, seen at a distance of sixteen light-years, is a little fainter than the star at the tip of Orion's sword, and it

could not have been contributing much to the sparkle in the diamond lenses of the strange machine. More than

one of the watching men, however, got a distinct impression that the thing was taking a last look at the

planetary system where it had been made. It would be a natural thing for any sentient and sentimental being to

do, for it was already falling toward the great dark object only a few thousand miles away.

Any ordinary planet would have been glaringly bright at that range, for Altair is an excellent illuminator and

was at its best right then: Altair is not a variable star, but it rotates fast enough to flatten itself considerably, and

the "planet was in a part of its orbit where it got the maximum benefit from the hotter, brighter polar regions. In

spite of this, the world's great bulk was visible chiefly as a fuzzy blot not very much brighter than the Milky

Way, which formed a background to it. It seemed as though the white glare of Altair were being sucked in and

quenched, rather than illuminating anything.

But the eyes of the machine had been designed with Tenebra's atmosphere in mind. Almost visibly the robot's

attention shifted, and the whitish lump of synthetic material turned slowly. The metal skeleton framing it kept

PROLOGUE: INVESTIGATION; ANNEXATION

8 CLOSE TO CRITICAL

pace with the motion, and a set of stubby cylinders lined themselves up with the direction of fall. Nothing

visible emerged from them, for there was still too little atmosphere to glow at the impact of the ions, but

the tons of metal and plastic altered their acceleration. The boosters were fighting the already fierce tug of

a world nearly three times the diameter of distant Earth, and they fought well enough so that the

patchwork fabrication which held them suffered no harm when atmosphere was finally reached.

The glitter faded out of the diamond eyes as the world's great gas mantle gradually enfolded the machine.

It was dropping slowly and steadily, now; the word cautiously might almost have been used. Altair still

glowed overhead, but the stars were vanishing even to the hypersensitive pickups behind those lenses as

the drop continued.

Then there was a change. Up to now, the thing might have been a rocket of unusually weird design,

braking straight down to a landing on outboard jets. The fact that the jet streams were glowing ever

brighter meant nothing; naturally, the air was growing denser. However, the boosters themselves should

not have been glowing.

These were. Their exhausts brightened still further, as though they were trying harder to slow a fall that

was speeding up in spite of them, and the casings themselves began to shine, a dull red. That was enough

for the distant controllers; a group of brilliant flashes shone out for an instant, not from the boosters

themselves but from points on the metal girders that held them. The struts gave way instantly, and the

machine fell unsupported.

For only a moment. There was still equipment fastened to its outer surface, and a scant half-second after

the blowoff of the boosters a gigantic parachute flowered above the falling lump of plastic. In that gravity

it might have been expected to tear away instantly, but its designers had known their business. It held. The

incredibly

Prologue: Investigation; Annexation 9

thick atmosphere—even at that height several tunes as dense as Earth's—held stubbornly in front of the

parachute's broad expanse and grimly insisted on the lion's share of every erg of potential energy given up

by the descending mass. In consequence, even a gravity three times that of Earth's surface failed to

damage the device when it finally struck solid ground.

For some moments after the landing, nothing seemed to happen. Then the flat-bottomed ovoid moved,

separating itself from the light girders which had held the parachute, crawled on nearly invisible treads

away from the tangle of metal ribbons, and stopped once more as though to look around.

It was not looking, however; for the moment, it could not see. There were adjustments to be made. Even a'

solid block of polymer, with no moving parts except its outer traveling and handling equipment, could not

remain completely unchanged under an external pressure of some eight hundred atmospheres. The

dimensions of the block, and of the circuitry imbedded in it, had changed slightly. The initial pause after

landing had been required for the distant controllers to find and match the slightly different frequencies

now needed to operate it. The eyes, which had seen so clearly hi empty space, had to adjust so that the

different index of refraction between the diamond and the new external medium did not blur their pictures

hopelessly. This did not take too long, as it was automatic, effected by the atmosphere itself as it filtered

through minute pores into the spaces between certain of the lens elements,

Once optically adjusted, the nearly complete darkness meant nothing to those eyes, for the multipliers

behind them made use of every quantum of radiation the diamond could refract. Far away, human eyes

glued themselves to vision screens which carried the relayed images of what the machine saw.

It was a rolling landscape, not too unearthly at first

10 CLOSE TO CRITICAL

glance. There were large hills in the distance, their outlines softened by what might have been forests. The

nearby ground was completely covered with vegetation which looked more or less like grass, though the visible

trail the robot had already left suggested that the stuff was far more brittle. Clumps of taller growths erupted at

irregular intervals, usually on higher ground. Nothing seemed to move, not even the thinnest fronds of the

plants, though an irregular crashing and booming registered almost constantly on the sound pickups built into

the plastic block. Except for the sound it was a still-life landscape, without wind or animal activity.

The machine gazed thoughtfully for many minutes. Probably its distant operators were hoping that life fright-

ened into hiding by its fall might reappear; but if this were the case they were disappointed for the moment.

After a time it crawled back to the remains of its parachute harness and played a set of lights carefully over the

collection of metal girders, cables, and ribbons, examining them all in great detail. Then it moved away again,

this time with a purposeful air.

For the next ten hours it quartered meticulously the general area of the landing, sometimes stopping to play its

light on some object like a plant, sometimes looking around for minutes on end without obvious purpose,

sometimes emitting sounds of varying pitch and loudness. This last always happened when it was in a valley, or

at least not on the very top of a hill; it seemed to be studying echoes for some reason.

Periodically it went back to the abandoned harness and repeated the careful examination, as though it were

expecting something to happen. Naturally, in an environment having a three hundred-seventy-degree

temperature, about eight hundred atmospheres pressure, and a climate consisting of water heavily laced with

oxygen and oxides of sulphur, things started to happen soon enough; and great interest was shown in the

progress of the corrosion

Prologue: Investigation; Annexation 11

as it steadily devoured the metal. Some parts lasted longer than others; no doubt the designers had

included different alloys, perhaps to check this very point. The robot remained in the general area until the

last of the metal had vanished in slime.

At irregular intervals during this time, the surface of the ground shook violently. Sometimes the shaking

was accompanied by the crashes which had first greeted the robot's "ears"; at other times it was relatively

silent. The operators must have been bothered by this at first; then it became evident that all the hills in the

neighborhood were well rounded with no steep cliffs, and that the ground itself was free of both cracks

and loose stones, so there was little reason to worry about the effect of quakes on the fabulously expensive

mechanism.

A far more interesting event was the appearance of animal life. Most of the creatures were small, but were

none the less fascinating for that, if the robot's actions meant anything. It examined everything that

appeared, as closely as it possibly could. Most of the creatures seemed to be scale-armored and eight-

limbed; some appeared to live on the local vegetation, others, on each other.

With the harness finally gone, the attention of the robot's operators was exclusively occupied by the ani-

mals for a long time. The investigation was interrupted a number of times, but this was due to loss of

control rather than distraction. The lack of visible surface features on Tenebra had prevented the men from

getting a very precise measure of its rotation period, and on several occasions the distant ship "set" as far

as the important part of the planet was concerned. Trial and error gradually narrowed down the

uncertainties in the length of Tenebra's day, however, and the interruptions in control finally vanished.

The project of studying a planet three times the diameter of Earth looked rather ridiculous when attempted

CLOSE TO CRITICAL

with a single exploring machine. Had that been the actual plan, of course it would have been ridiculous;

but the men had something else in mind. One machine is not much; a machine with a crew of assistants,

particularly if the crew is part of a more or less world-wide culture, is something very different. The

operators very definitely hoped to find local help—in spite of the rather extreme environment into which

their machine had fallen. They were experienced men, and knew something of the ways of life in the

universe.

However, weeks went by, and then months, with no sign .of a creature possessing more than the rudiments

of a nervous system. Had the men understood the operation of the lensless, many-spined "eyes" of the

local animals they might have been more hopeful; but as it was most of them grew resigned to facing a job

of several lifetimes. It was sheer chance that when a thinking creature finally did turn up it was discovered

by the robot. Had it been the other way around—if the native had discovered the machine—history could

easily have been very different on several planets.

The creature, when they did see it, was big. It towered fully nine feet in height, and on that planet must

have weighed well over a ton. It conformed to the local custom as regarded scales and number of limbs,

but it walked erect on two* of the appendages, seemed not to be using the next two, and used the upper

four for prehension. That was the fact that betrayed its intelligence; two long and two shorter spears, each

with a carefully chipped stone head, were being carried hi obvious readiness for instant use.

Perhaps the stone disappointed the human watchers, or perhaps they remembered what happened to metals

on this planet and refrained from jumping to conclusions about the culture level suggested by the material.

In any case, they watched the native carefully.

This was easier than it might have been; the present

Prologue: Investigation; Annexation 13

neighborhood, many miles from the original landing point, was a good deal rougher in its contours. The

vegetation was both higher and somewhat less brittle, though it was still virtually impossible to avoid

leaving a trail where the robot crawled. The men guessed at first that the higher plants had prevented the

native from seeing the relatively small machine; then it became apparent that the creature's attention was

fully occupied by something else.

It was traveling slowly and apparently trying to leave as little trail as possible. It was also making

allowance for the fact that to leave no trail was not practicable; periodically it stopped and built a peculiar

arrangement consisting of branches from some of the rarer, springy plants and the sharp stone blades

which it took hi seemingly endless supply from a large leather sack slung about its scaly body.

The nature of these arrangements was clear, after the native had gotten far enough ahead to permit a close

inspection. They were booby traps, designed to drive a stone point into the body of anything attempting to

follow hi the creature's footsteps. They must have been intended against animals rather than other natives,

since they could easily be avoided merely by paralleling the trail instead of following it.

The fact that the precaution was being taken at all, however, made the whole situation extremely

interesting, and the robot was made to follow with all possible caution. The native traveled five or six

miles in this fashion, and during this time set about forty of the traps. The robot avoided these without

trouble, but several times tripped others which had apparently been set earlier. The blades did no harm to

the machine; some of them actually broke against the plastic. It began to look as though the whole

neighborhood had been "mined," however.

Eventually the trail led to a rounded hill. The native

CLOSE TO CRITICAL

climbed this quickly, and paused at a narrow gully opening near the top. It seemed to be looking around

for followers, though no organs of vision had yet been identified by the human watchers. Apparently

satisfied, it drew an ellipsoidal object from its sack, examined it carefully with delicate fingers, and then

disappeared into the gully.

In two or three minutes it was back, this time without its grapefruit-size burden. Heading down the hill

once more, it avoided with care both its own traps and the others, and set off in a direction different from

that of its approach.

The robot's operators had to think fast. Should they follow the native or find out what it had been doing up

the hill? The former might seem more logical, since the native was leaving, and the hill presumably was

not, but the second alternative was the one they chose. After all, it was impossible for the thing to travel

without leaving some sort of trail; besides, night was approaching, so it wouldn't get far. It seemed safe to

assume that it shared the characteristic of Tenebra's other animal life, of collapsing into helplessness a few

hours after nightfall.

Besides, looking at the hilltop shouldn't take too long. The robot waited until the native was well out of

sight, and then moved up the hill toward the gully. This, it turned out, led into a shallow crater, though the

hill bore no resemblance to a volcano; on the crater floor lay perhaps a hundred ellipsoids similar to that

which the native had just left there. They were arranged with great care in a single line, and except for that

fact were the closest things to loose stones that the men had yet seen on Tene-bra. Their actual nature

seemed so obvious that no effort was made to dissect one.

At this point there must have been a lengthy and lively discussion. The robot did nothing for quite a long

time. Then it left the crater and went down the hill, picked its way carefully out through the "mine field"

on the trail of the native, and settled down to travel.

Prologue: Investigation; Annexation 15

This was not quite as easy as it would have been in the day time, since it was starting to rain and visibility

was frequently obstructed by the drops. The men had not yet really decided whether it was better, hi

traveling at night, to follow valleys and remain submerged or stick to ridges and hilltops so as to see

occasionally; but hi this case the problem was irrelevant. The native had apparently ignored the question,

and settled for something as close to a straight line as it could manage. The trail ran for some ten miles,

and ended at a clearing before a cave-studded cliff.

Details could not be seen well. Not only was the rain still falling, but the darkness was virtually absolute

even to the pickups of the robot. More discussion must have resulted from this; it was two or three

minutes after the machine's arrival at the clearing that its lights went on and played briefly over the rock.

Natives could be seen standing inside the cave mouths, but they made no response to the light. They were

either asleep, in more or less human fashion, or had succumbed to the usual night-torpor of Tenebra's

animal life.

No sign of anything above a stone-age culture level could be seen anywhere about, and after a few

minutes of examination the robot cut off most of its lights and headed back toward the hill and the crater.

It moved steadily and purposefully. Once at the hilltop, several openings appeared hi its sides, and from

some of these armlike structures were extended. Ten of the ellipsoids were picked carefully from one end

of the line— leaving no betraying gaps—and stowed in the robot's hull. Then the machine went back

down the hill and began a deliberate search for booby traps. From these it removed the stone blades, and

such of these as seemed in good condition—many were badly corroded, and some even crumbled when

handled—disappeared into other openings in the lump of plastic. Each of these holes was then covered by

a lid of the same incredibly stable

CLOSE TO CRITICAL

polymer which formed the body of the machine, so that no one could have told from outside that the

storage places were there.

With this task completed, the robot headed away, at the highest speed it could maintain. By the time Altair

rose and began turning the lower atmosphere back into gas, the machine, the stolen weapons, and the

"kidnaped" eggs were far from the crater and still farther from the cave village.

I. EXPLORATION; EXPECTATION; ALTERCATION

NICK pushed through the tall plants into the open, stopped, and used several words of the sort Fagin had

always refused to translate. He was neither surprised nor bothered to find water ahead of him—it was still early

in the morning—it was annoying, however, to find it on each side as well. Sheer bad luck, apparently, had led

him straight out along a peninsula, and this was no time for anyone to retrace his steps.

To be really precise, he didn't know that he was being followed, of course; but it simply hadn't occurred to him

to doubt that he was. He had spent two days, since his escape, in making as confused and misleading a trail as

possible, swinging far to the west before turning back toward home, and he was no more willing than a human

being would have been to admit that it might have been wasted effort. True, he had seen not the slightest sign

of pursuers. He had been delayed by the usual encounters with impassable ground and wild animals, and none

of his captors had caught up; the floating animals and plants which it was never safe to ignore completely had

shown no sign of interest in anything behind him; his captors during the time he was with them had shown

themselves to be hunters and trackers of superlative skill. Taking all these facts into account, he might have

been excused for supposing that the fact of his continued freedom meant

CLOSE TO CRITICAL

they weren't following. He was tempted, but couldn't bring himself to believe it. They had wanted so badly

to make him lead them to Fagin!

He came to himself with a start, and brought his mind back to the present. Theorizing was useless just

now; he must decide whether to retrace his steps along the peninsula, and risk running into his ex-captors,

or wait until the lake dried up and chance their catching him. It was hard to decide which was the smaller

risk, but there was one check he could make.

He walked to the water's edge, looked at the liquid carefully, then slapped it vigorously. The slow ripples

which spread up the edge of the lake and out over its more or less level surface did not interest him; the

drops which detached themselves did. He watched as they drifted toward him, settling slowly, and noted

with satisfaction that even the largest of them faded out without getting back to the surface. Evidently the

lake did not have long to go; he settled down to wait.

The breeze was picking up slowly as the plants awoke to the new day. He could smell it. He watched

eagerly for its effect on the lake—not waves, but the turbulent hollows hi the surface which would mark

slightly warmer bodies of air passing over it. That would be the sign; trom then on, the surface would

probably drop faster 4own the lake bed than he could travel. The breeze should keep the air breathable, as

long as he didn't follow the water too closely—yes, it couldn't be long now; the very point where he was

standing was below the surface level of some parts of the lake. It was drying up.

The difference increased as he waited, the edge of the water slipping back hi ghostly fashion. He followed

it with caution until a wall of water towered on either side. It began to look as though the peninsula were

really a ridge across the lake; if so, so much the better.

Actually, it didn't quite reach. He had to wait for a quarter of an hour at the ridge's end while the rest of

the

Exploration; Expectation; Altercation 19

lake turned back to air. He was impatient enough to risk breathing the stuff almost too quickly after the change,

but managed to get away with it. A few minutes more brought him up the slope to the tall vegetation on the east

side of the erstwhile lake. Before plunging among the plants, where he would be able to see nothing but the

floaters overhead, he paused a moment to look back across the dry bottom to the point where he had first seen

the water—still no pursuers. Another floater or two were drifting his way; he felt for his knives, and slightly

regretted the spears he had lost. Still, there was little likelihood of danger from a floater behind him as long as

he traveled at a decent speed—and that's what he'd better be doing. He plunged into the brush.

Travel was not too difficult; the stuff was flexible enough to be pushed out of the way most of the time.

Occasionally he had to cut his way, which was annoying less because of the effort involved than because it

meant exposing a knife to the air. Knives were getting somewhat scarce, and Fagin was rather tight with those

remaining.

The morning wore on, still without sight of pursuers. He made unusually good speed much of the time because

of a remarkable lack of wild animals—par for a forty-mile walk being four or five fights, while he had only

one. However, he more than lost the time gained when he ran into an area rougher than any he had ever seen.

The hills were sharp and jagged instead of rounded; there were occasional loose rocks, and from time to time

these were sent rolling and tumbling by unusually sharp quakes. In places he had to climb steep cliffs, either up

or down; in others, he threaded his way through frighteningly narrow cracks—with no assurance that there was

an opening at the other end. Several times there wasn't, and he had to go back.

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摘要：

ClosetoCriticalbyHalClement.SOL,seenatadistanceofsixteenlight-years,isalittlefainterthanthestaratthetipofOrion'ssword,anditcouldnothavebeencontributingmuchtothesparkleinthediamondlensesofthestrangemachine.Morethanoneofthewatchingmen,however,gotadistinctimpressionthatthethingwastakingalastlookatthepl...

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Hal Clement - Close to Critical

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