Through the Eye of a Needle Part 12

Bob thought silently for a moment.

"I don't think so. I wouldn't have wanted to sound as though I couldn't ride, and I certainly didn't want to tell anyone about the wire, especially when we couldn't find it."

"Well, Andre knows or is taking for granted that you were on your bike when it happened. I didn't ask how he knew. When I talked about the rope and the leak in my boat, he just asked what we were doing out there all those days, and were we looking for something special, and when was I going to keep my promise that he could come out with us. When you came in with the pipe a while ago, he asked whether that was what we were looking for. I said it wasn't, and then realized I'd admitted we were looking for something. I told you he was slippery."

"How about my handlebars and your brake? Is he a bike expert?"

"I didn't get around to either of them. I'm still sure, from those slips he made, that he's at the bottom of all this, though."

"Maybe he found out about my being on the bike from Silly. She knows, and goodness knows how many of her small friends she may have told," Bob remarked.

"And I still doubt that he's actually at the bottom, in any case,"

added the doctor. "I agree he's probably involved, though. I wish I could figure out what happened to the Hunter today; I don't see how the kid could possibly be involved in that. There weren't any boats besides your own out there, were there?"

Bob and his mother said there weren't; Maeta qualified the statement slightly.

"None stayed there. Two or three times fishermen or other people who had come out the main channel tacked down and called h.e.l.lo, and asked what we were doing, but they always went right on."

"What did you tell them?"

"Just that we were collecting. That could have covered anything-Pauhere's curios, or the Museum Exchange, or just amusing ourselves."

"Do you remember who they were?" asked Seever.

"Most of them, I think. Is it important?"

"I wish I could guess. I wonder if anyone on Ell could have free-diving equipment that the whole world doesn't know about."

"If they have," Maeta a.s.sured him, "it's a pretty close secret. As you say, usually everyone knows something like that. I see what you're driving at now, but I don't see any way to be really sure- except that I'd swear no boat stayed close enough for long enough to let a diver get over near us and get back again if he was swimming. Maybe if someone's invented a personal outboard motor for divers it could have been done, but they'd have been taking a chance that I'd be down at any moment and see them."

"Maybe it wouldn't be they taking the chance," Seever pointed out grimly. "Well, we're speculating again. Make a list of the people you saw go by, first chance you get, and let me have it. When you don't know what you're doing, record data, I always say. I know the more pieces there are, the tougher the puzzle; but if the pieces belong, you have to have them. Any other plans, Bob?"

"I don't see what we can do about the Hunter except wait," was the answer. "If you should think of anything better, Doc, go ahead without waiting for my opinion."

"I don't agree with that," said Maeta. "Bob has lived with the Hunter for years, and must know more about him than anyone- even Bob himself-realizes. Some idea of the doctor's might recall something to him that he hasn't thought of yet-or might remind him of something which would warn us that the idea was bad, or dangerous to the Hunter."

"A good point," agreed Seever. "But how about the rest of the job? You're interpreting that 'yes' on the buzzer as meaning the s.h.i.+p was really there. Does that give us any line of action, even without the Hunter?"

Neither Bob nor Jenny had any ideas at first, but Maeta produced one almost instantly.

"As I understand it," she said," the plan was for the Hunter to leave a message at this s.h.i.+p, on the a.s.sumption that his people are on the earth and would check there at times. Hadn't we better put a note there ourselves? We don't know whether he had a chance to before he was knocked out."

"We don't know the language," pointed out Jenny.

"Why should we need to? If they're really investigating this world, there's a good chance they'll have learned French or English."

"That's a thought," Bob agreed. "We could write out the whole story and put it in a weighted bottle, right on top of the s.h.i.+p. They couldn't help noticing it"

"It may not be quite that easy," Maeta pointed out. "The s.h.i.+p is buried under, the mud, and the bottle might not be obvious. They might not pay attention to anything not buried like the s.h.i.+p. The Hunter could probably, have put his message inside the s.h.i.+p, but we might not even able to put it exactly on top. Remember, the Hunter had us move around a little before he finally signaled he'd found it-if that was what his signal meant."

"What else could he have meant?" asked Bob in indignantly.

"And can't we remember which way he moved us?"

"Nothing else, I hope; that's all that makes sense to me, too. A One-word message can usually be misinterpreted, though. Yes, we can find the spot again. I just don't want you to think all the troubles are over." "No fear of that," Bob a.s.sured her. "I never have the chance to get that idea."

"Sorry, still hurting?"

"Yes. Muscles, joints, arm, and face, though the last is pretty well back together. Well, I'll try to get my mind off it by writing a message to the Hunter's crowd. The sooner we get it out there, the better. If they do visit the s.h.i.+p it must be at night, and with the luck I have these days it'll be tonight if we don't get out there this afternoon. I wonder how often they do check back? Or if anything the Hunter did today could have set off a signal to bring them back?"

"That's a thought," agreed Seever. "Much better than your last one. Why would they have to come by night? They could make their approach under water at any time-or can their s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps only move straight up and down, or something like that?" Bob looked startled.

"I never thought of that, and I don't really know about the s.h.i.+ps.

Well, we should get the message out there anyway. Somebody find a bottle."

The note was written as briefly as possible, in pencil, on a single sheet of paper. The doctor then waxed the paper. A bottle had been found, the amount of sand needed to sink it ascertained, and paper and, sand inserted. A tiny hole was drilled in the cork of the bottle to facilitate the entry of one of the Hunter's people, and the cork was tightly inserted; then the bottle was shaken around, top downward, until the paper had worked its way above the sand, presumably out of reach of water which would be forced part way into the bottle by the pressure at the bottom.

"That seems to do it," Jenny said happily when all this was accomplished. "I wish I could go with you."

"But of course you're too intelligent to suggest it seriously," her father added. Jenny made no answer.

"Sorry, Jen," Bob put in, "but there really isn't much to this anyway. By the time there's anything more to do, if there ever is, you should be all right again. There's just one more thing we need, then we can take off."

"What's that?" asked Seever.

"A good, heavy rock."

"What for? The bottle will sink."

"I know the bottle will. The trouble is, I won't. We're not just dropping the bottle over the side; we're putting it right on the s.h.i.+p.

I'm not a good enough swimmer to reach the bottom at four fathoms, at least with one bad arm, and if I got there I wouldn't have air enough to go looking for just the right spot. I'll sink myself with the rock, and save effort and air."

"And the doctor was talking about Jenny's intelligence!"

exclaimed Maeta. "He'll have to hunt for some different words for yours. I'll go down, you idiot. Why this urge to go swimming with a broken arm? If you just want to see the s.h.i.+p, don't bother; you can't. It's all under mud."

"I know you can do it," admitted Bob. "You can do it better than I could even with two good arms and all my health. But there's something down there that injured the Hunter, and I have no business asking anyone else to face that. You've already been taking enough chances under water for me, Mae. This is my job and the Hunter's. He's taken a chance and apparently lost; now it's my turn."

His mother started to say something, but changed her mind.

"That's right, Mom. Of course you don't want me to go down, but you're honest enough to know I'm the one who should."

Maeta was on her feet. She was not really qualified to tower over anyone, but Bob was seated and had to lookup.

"Skip the heroics, Robert Kinnaird" she snapped. "The person who should go is the person who can do it best, and don't make it sound like a Roger Young mission, I'll be down and up again, with the bottle exactly where it should be, in ninety seconds-and that's allowing for mistakes in spotting the canoe. If anyone sees a shark, I'll wait; I'm not being heroic. I was down there before, after the Hunter was knocked out, remember, and nothing happened to me. And how many rocks do you plan to take out there in my canoe? You'll miss the site the first time and have to come up, and you'll need another rock to go down again, and another and probably another."

"Don't rub it in."

The battle of wills was fun to watch. Told about it later, the Hunter regretted having missed it, though, as he admitted, the end was never in doubt. Fond as he was of Bob, he knew by now that he was not always a completely reasonable being. He had not known Maeta nearly as long-casual acquaintance as one of Charles Teroa's sisters seven years before hardly counted-but he already knew that she was more intelligent than his host and quicker-witted. She also possessed a more forceful personality.

Besides all this, in the present situation she was right and both of them knew it. Bob's mother and the doctor kept out of it after the first few words, and between them managed to keep Jenny quiet too. The redhead, for reasons of her own, was on Maeta's side, but the older girl needed no help.

No rocks were carried.

Seever suddenly decided that he owed himself a pleasant ride on the water, and went along. Bob objected to this, saying that the Hunter should be kept under a medical eye, but the doctor insisted that there was nothing more he could do for the alien. In fact, he was much more worried about Bob, who now was deprived of his alien partner, lacked infection resistance of his own, and was otherwise not at his best. He refrained from mentioning this reason to either Mrs. Kinnaird or her son, and decided not to remind them of the situation by taking his bag along. He regretted this omission later.

It was mid-afternoon when they reached the out rigger on North Beach and embarked. The swell had increased since morning, and everyone was wet by the time they were afloat. The mile to the site was covered quickly, with all but Bob at the paddles, and the final search for the buoy took a little longer than Maeta had predicted.

She worked the craft into what she recalled was the right position with respect to the marker, told Seever and Mrs. Kinnaird to hold it there, and without further ceremony slid overboard with the bottle.

For a moment she trod water between the canoe's hull and the outrigger as she took in air; then she upended and drove downward.

Seever and Mrs. Kinnaird watched her as well as they could without interfering with their paddling. Bob did not. He was barely aware that she had gone at all he was becoming less and less conscious of any thing except pain. His limbs were sorer than ever, and his head felt hot. He knew the Hunter had been away from him for longer periods than this, but he felt far worse than the last time; and he was beginning to wonder whether the juggling act with his hormones was closing. He didn't know. He was beginning not to care. The sun hurt his eyes, even in the shadow of his hat brim, and he dosed them.

Maeta surfaced, well within the ninety seconds she had allowed, and slid into the canoe as smoothly as she had left it. "No trouble," she said, after getting her breath. "You can see the outline of the s.h.i.+p under the mud, if you know what to look for. I felt into the stuff. It's very soft, and there are only a few inches of it over the top part of the s.h.i.+p. I felt the hard stuff, but couldn't tell by touch if it was metal or something else."

"You left the message." Bob's mother did not put it as a question.

"Sure. Neck of the bottle down against the hull, the bottom part with the paper sticking above the mud. If they look at all, or feel at all carefully, they can't miss it."

"You shouldn't have taken the chance of touching the s.h.i.+p," the older woman said. "Bob was right about that. You might have gotten an electric shock, or something of that sort, as the Hunter seems to have done. Could that be what happened to him, Ben?"

The doctor shrugged. "No way to tell, until he comes to and tells us. I don't know what electricity would do to him; I couldn't guess even if his tissues were like ours. There's no simple way to tell; a man can stand a shock that will kill a horse. Did he ever tell you anything about that, Bob?"

An incoherent mumble was his only answer. Mrs., Kinnaird gave a gasp of terror, but managed to retain her grip on her paddle.

Seconds later Bob was stretched out on the bottom of the dugout while Seever checked him over as well as the cramped situation allowed. He could find only the deep flush on the face and a racing pulse, which might have meant several things. The women were already paddling back toward North Beach as hard as they could. After doing what little he could for Bob, the doctor picked up the remaining paddle and used it.

At the beach, he issued orders quickly.

"We can't hand-carry him all the way to the hospital. Annette, get to your house and see if Arthur is there. If he is, have him get a car-he can usually find one. Maeta, bike down to the village and try to find either him or a car, too. Check around the desalting stations first, then go out to the refinery. Never mind explanations, just say I need a car, capital NOW. As you pa.s.s my place, tell Ev to get my kit here as fast as she can. I should have known better than to come without it."

With the women gone, Seever turned back to his patient. They had carried him into the shade, and it was now obvious even without a thermometer that he had a high fever. His face was flushed, and he was perspiring heavily. Seever was somewhat relieved by the latter fact, but be removed his own s.h.i.+rt and Bob's, soaked them in the sea, and spread one over the younger man's chest He improvised a turban with the other. It was almost sunset when a jeep appeared at high speed.

Arthur Kinnaird was at the wheel, his daughter beside him, and Maeta in the back seat. They stopped a few yards short of where Bob was lying; Kinnaird was not the sort to take chances on being stuck in the sand at such a time.

"Your wife wasn't home. I've told him everything," Maeta said before Seever could ask a question.

"All right. Arthur, get us to my place as quickly as you can. I'll use the back seat, with Bob. Daph, crowd in front with Mae until we get to your house; you can get off there."

"No! I'm staying with you. Bob's sick!"

Seever was too busy even to shrug, much less argue. Maeta had s.h.i.+fted to the front seat and taken the child on her lap, and seconds later they were speeding back down the road. Bob's father said nothing as they approached his house, and did not slow down; the child was still with them as they approached the hospital. She tried to help carry Bob into the building; then Maeta took her out. Arthur Kinnaird remained as Seever went to work.

The trouble was plain enough now. Bob's temperature was indeed high, and the broken left arm was showing the red streaks which indicated ma.s.sive in fection. Seever removed the cast to reveal a red and black mess underneath.

"Antibiotics?" asked Kinnaird.

"Maybe. They don't work on everything, in spite of people's calling them 'miracle drugs'-they were doing that with the sulfa compounds a few years ago, too. I'll do the best I can, but he may not be able to keep the arm."

"This is a fine time for the Hunter to be out of action."

"Probably not coincidence," pointed out Seever. "If he were there, this wouldn't have happened at all. Look, I'll give the boy a shot of what seems best- I'll make some tests first-and then, if I can, I'll wait six hours before doing anything else. Of course, if things get obviously worse I won't be able to give all that time.

Then well have to decide about the arm.

"And I'm going to do one more thing."

Kinnaird nodded in understanding as the doctor put a smaller table beside the one on which Bob was lying, placed the basin containing the Hunter on it, and put Bob's right hand in the basin.

They watched as the hand sank slowly into the jelly. Then Seever got out his microscope, and took sc.r.a.pings from the tissue of the other arm.

12. Joker

That was the situation when the Hunter woke up. It took him a little while to catch up with reality, though he knew well enough what had happened at the s.h.i.+p. It had obviously been found by the search expedition, identified, as being the one stolen by the Hunter's quarry, and b.o.o.by-trapped against the possible return of that individual. The alien recalled Seever's question about standard police procedures, and would have blushed had he been equipped for it.

He was perfectly familiar with the immobilizing agent which had been used, and if he had been properly alert would never have been trapped by it.

He became aware of the basin which held him, and of his host's hand immersed in his substance. That was presumably what had allowed him to wake up. The agent itself would have held him for months; but he had absorbed an equilibrium amount of it while separate from his host's body; and his own four pounds of tissue would have been saturated by a very small total quant.i.ty of the substance. Since it was designed to be absorbed rapidly by tissues similar to those of the Hunter's usual host species, which were biochemically fairly similar to those of humanity, and since Bob ma.s.sed thirty-five or forty times as much as his symbiont, enough had now diffused into Bob's body to clear the Hunter's nearly completely. Returning to Bob seemed safe enough, since the concentration of the substance would be so much smaller.

Without bothering to check on his surroundings by forming an eye, the Hunter began to soak his way into the hand and spread through his host's body in normal fas.h.i.+on. He had completed about a quarter of the job when he heard Arthur Kinnaird's voice.

"Ben, Look! The level is going down in the Hunter's dish, and he's higher around Bob's wrist than before! He must be awake!"

The alien extended a finger-sized pseudopod from the basin and waved it to let the speaker know he had been heard. The doctor's voice promptly responded.

"Hunter, get in there and get to work! Bob has picked up a very bad infection that my drugs don't seem to be touching, and he needs you. We'll ask you what happened later; first things first."

The Hunter waved again in acknowledgment. He was already aware of the trouble, and was working on it.

It was real work. Destroying the infecting organisms was a minor task, finished in minutes; but the toxins they had produced were far more difficult to neutral ize, and much of the tissue in the arm where they had entered was totally destroyed. The fracture had not been responsible; neither the Hunter nor Seever had made any professional errors there. A tiny wooden splinter had gotten into Bob's left hand just beyond the end of the cast. It had clearly entered after the Hunter's departure; Bob himself might not have noticed it, but the alien could not possibly have failed to. With his personal resistance to infection long since destroyed and his symbiont absent, Bob was a walking culture tube; a few hours had nearly destroyed his arm. The Hunter had not realized that his host's general self-reparability had become so poor, but the facts seemed beyond dispute. It was not the first time he wished he had studied biochemistry more thoroughly on his home world. He trusted contact with the check team could be made soon; they would certainly have specialists in tins field among their numbers.

But he had to get back to work. He could clean up the ruined arm and expect it to be replaced, however slowly, by normal healing. The real worry was Bob's brain. Some of the bacteria as well as their toxins must have been carried to that organ by his circulatory sys tem, and it could not be taken for granted that nothing had left the blood vessels to lodge in nerve tissue.

The Hunter had always been afraid to intrude into this material himself, though he had maintained a network of his own tissue in the capillaries. Brain cells were the objects where he was most afraid of making a mistake based on differences between human biochemistry and what he was more used to. Now it was necessary to take the chance, and he took it; but he worked very, very slowly and very, very carefully.

The situation was one he had never been able to explain at all clearly either to his host or to Seever who had been curious about it. The Hunter did possess the ability to sense directly structures down to the large-molecule level. At the same time he could be aware simultaneously of the trillions of cells in a living organism, and work on them all at once with the same attention to each that a jeweler could give to a single watch. When he tried to describe this to a human being, however, it seemed to involve a contrast for his listener; the human seemed to think of him as a whole race of beings instead of an individual. This tended to bother the Hunter, because be could only think of himself as an individual.

Sometimes, facing problems which seemed beyond his ability, he wished there were more of him.