“We’ll probably be better off out on the ridges than trying to follow the streams, anyway,” Keene said. “Water takes the steepest way down.”
“As long as the ridges don’t end in cliffs,” Charlie agreed.
But for the time being, it was as good a place as any to stop and mount the generator—not that there was much option in any case, since the cells were about done.
In fact, this place was better than many they might have picked. An updraft from below the waterfall played against the vapors drifting down from the basin to create an enhanced haze above, which also helped keep the air around the pool breathable; and in its position between the rock walls, the runabout would only be visible from directly overhead. But before they would be in a condition to do anything, they needed to rest. They snacked from the supplies they had brought with them and a flask of coffee, still refreshingly warm, and then settled down to doze in the cramped cab as best they could, improvising padding and pillows from packs and folded parkas.
* * *
“A fraction more to the right . . . Okay, hold it right there.” Keene tapped the last bolt through the lug in the mounting frame and the hole he had drilled in the bed of the truck, while Charlie applied pressure to keep them aligned, and checked that it was sitting squarely. The generator set looked okay, although it had dented the rear wall of the cab enough to tear the metal when it had been flung forward. “That’ll do it.”
Charlie relaxed his grip. “You know, Lan, it’s as well we brought that extra drum of fuel. The way we’ve been zigzagging about and backing up already, I’m beginning to think we might need it.”
“Well, see, that’s what you get from being an engineer, not a scientist, Charlie. Scientists straddle their best guesses with error bars. Engineers assume worst-case.”
“But you were both, right? Didn’t you do theoretical work on plasma physics at Harvard?”
Keene straightened up and heaved a leg over the edge of the truck, feeling with his foot for a step to climb down. “Can you pass down the wrench and the nuts for the outside?”
“Here.”
“That’s right. But science had become an intolerant religion more concerned with putting down heresies that challenged its theories than finding out how things really were.”
“I know. I’ve seen the list. It’s been a long road from JPL to Kronia.”
“There—in that box. I’ll need the locking washers too. . . . At one time I used to say that science was the only area of human activity in which it actually mattered whether or not what you believed was true. In just about everything else, what was important was that you believed, not what you believed. Then I decided that scientists were no different. So I changed it to ‘engineering.’ You can fool yourself if you want, but you can’t fool nature. If you get the wings wrong, your plane won’t fly.”
Keene ducked down to locate the first of the bolt ends protruding through the truck bed. An ugly, lizard-like creature was staring with huge, unblinking eyes from a muddy niche between the rocks. Keene didn’t like the look of it. He waved the wrench at it threateningly, and it vanished between some clumps of moss. He threaded on the nut, semi-tightened it, and rose back up to collect the next.
“What’s your take on this Kronian belief in a higher power?” Charlie asked.
“The only answer I can see is that you can’t rule it out.”
Charlie nodded, but, it seemed, reluctantly, as if he didn’t want to agree but could find no alternative.
Keene went back down below the truck bed, raising his voice to continue. The air down off the ridge was heavy and muggy, making him perspire. Serengeti was well placed up on the plateau. “It’s tough readjusting when the only thing you’ve been told all your life is that the nuts and bolts are all there is to it, for no reason.”
“It doesn’t seem to have bothered you too much,” Charlie commented.