“Hello, Alf? What have you messed up this time?”
“Don’t take so much for granted, cloud-chaser,” returned Vickers. “As a matter of fact, I’m not quite sure what, if anything, has been botched. I’m just a little doubtful of the attitude I aroused in the lad who runs this place. It’s a weather station, and he’s a member of your honored and ancient profession, so I called on you to stand by and assist in further negotiations.”
“You would. I’d just gotten back on a more or less human eating and sleeping schedule. Will you help me get my stuff over to your ship? Mack is probably getting tired of waiting.” Vickers nodded and they set to work; Rodin continued to talk, commenting unfavorably on Hekla’s atmospheric pressure, gravity — this as he tried to lift a piece of apparatus normally well within his strength — temperature, and various other characteristics. He did not mention its weather, except to say that it looked interesting from an academic viewpoint.
The equipment had been transferred, and the men were settled in the warmth of Vickers’ ship before Rodin asked for details of the situation. Vickers gave a report of the last three months, pointing out that he had refused either to give an explanation of himself or request information of his hosts until he was sure of his ability to use their language; that Serrnak Deg, the only Heklan with whom he had come into more than momentary contact during this time, had seemed both friendly and interested until exchange of information had begun; and that Vickers had given much more information than he had received. He stressed the fact that the Heklan’s behavior had not become openly hostile; they were carefully keeping him away from anything in the observatory that might do him good, but they were being very polite about it. Rodin asked a question at this point.
“If they don’t want you, who aren’t a scientist, wandering around the place, what good will I do? Don’t you want them to know I’m a meteorologist?”
“I don’t want to wander. Deg said he’d call for me as soon as his emergency had passed — which may merely mean when he’s made the place safe for inspection by a suspicious alien. I’ll introduce you to him as a fellow meteorologist. Your inability to speak his language will take care of any risk there might be of your saying the wrong thing. I don’t know how advanced their metro is — the lab I saw looked quite imposing, but they may not be up to us. That’s one thing I’d like you to pass judgment on. If they’re behind us, we’ll try to make you helpful to them in as many ways as possible — generally produce a good impression. If they know more than you, we’ll decide on some other course of action.”
“You’re the boss. You must have learned something about these folks, and formed some plans, so I’ll follow your lead. I don’t suppose you noticed anything pertinent about the climate and local weather, did you? I know it’s summer, of course; but is this a representative temperature? How’s the lapse rate? Did you notice anything of the prevailing winds and general cloud forms? Don’t answer — I can tell by your expression. I have my work cut out for me. Can you get hold of any locally produced weather maps, or even a decent relief map either of the continent or the whole planet?” Vickers pursed his lips doubtfully.
“The only weather maps I’ve seen are those big globes in the integration laboratory, unless the screens of those computing machines could be called maps. I think they put out their answers in terms of the squiggles you fellows deface paper with. If Deg will let us into that laboratory again, you can judge that for yourself; but I wouldn’t count on that happening. I don’t know about printed maps or charts; I’ve seen books, bound like ours, but I haven’t even tried to read their language, and haven’t seen how their books are illustrated. They undoubtedly have relief maps; if you need them in meteorology; I suppose they do too, and should have them around; but getting hold of one is something you’ll just have to pray for.”
Rodin nodded, and dropped the subject. They discussed the physical appearance of the Heklans, speculating on their probable evolutionary history; the doings on Hekla’s satellite during Vickers’ three-month absence from the interstellar ship; and every subject that occurred to them. They had plenty of time, for two of Hekla’s long days had rolled by and the sun was again in the west before Serrnak Deg appeared outside the air lock.
Vickers heard him slap the outer door with the flat of his hand, and immediately opened the lock. The pudgy being walked — in spite of his build, his motion was nothing like a fat man’s waddle — into the control room, where Rodin was waiting. The tarsierlike face showed no surprise as the big eyes took in the two Earthmen. Vickers forestalled any remarks by speaking himself.