THE CRUCIBLE OF TIME BY JOHN BRUNNER

So Lesh and her companions had remounted their floater, to take advantage of the coolness of the gas in its bladders before sunshine increased its buoyancy and obliged them to have it hauled down, and that lucky chance had spared their lives. In fact, as things had turned out, everybody was safely accounted for, except perhaps a few natives, and they were so stupid they could rarely be taught to answer their names. Still, the harm done was severe enough.

“It’s set us back years!” Lesh mourned.

“Well, I did warn in my original report, when the site was first surveyed, that there must be something amiss in this area!” That was from Drotninch’s elderly colleague Byra, hunching forward.

“You didn’t lay much stress on the point, then,” Drotninch countered. “As I recall, you concluded that ‘the abnormalities found fall within a range of normal variation comparable to that in the Lugomannic Archipelago!’ ”

Other voices were instantly raised. Awb recognized Phrallet’s—trust her to poke a claw in, he thought morosely—but none of the others. It was dark again now, and even though a few luminants had been brought from Voosla it was hard to make out anybody’s features, here on the gritty beach beside the unfinished mole.

In any case, he was too worn out to care. So much had happened, he was half-convinced he had wandered into dreamness and would recover to be told he was suffering from fever and delirium. He wanted to have imagined what he had witnessed today, the stench of shock and misery exuded by the people working here as they surveyed the rain of years of effort. At his age he had scarcely begun to conceive ambitions, let alone put them into practice, and he had been stabbed to the pith on realizing how trivial an oversight could cause such a calamity. That vast mound of shattered rock blocking the canal; that dismal garland of carefully tended plants now dangling over the new precipice so high above; those tangled cables which only yesterday had guided massive loads up and down Fangsharp Peak…

Too many images, too much emotion. He let his mind wander and made no attempt to follow the discussion.

Then, unexpectedly, he heard Axwep’s boom of authority, and reflex snatched his full attention, just as though they were in mid-ocean with a line-squall looming.

“Now that’s enough of this wrangling!” the mayor rasped. “I thought we were bringing cool-minded scientists here! I’d like to see a bunch like you put in charge of a city when one of her incorporated junqs turns rogue and has to be shed because you can’t kill her without attracting sharqs or feroqs! Fancy trying to keep your musculators working when rogue ichor’s leaking through the circulation, hmm? If you can’t cling to your drifting wits when you’re not even in danger of your lives, it’s a poor lookout for your project anyhow! So shut up, will you? And that goes for you as well, Phrallet! I don’t care how much of the voyage you spent chatting up our guests while I was busy running Voosla—you can’t possibly know enough about the problem to discuss it. Even Drotninch hasn’t been here for two years, remember.”

The direct insult provoked Phrallet to a reeking fury, and she rose to full height in a way that proved she had worked little, if at all, during the bright-time; none of the others present had pressure left to match her. For an instant she imagined she was at an advantage.

Then, suddenly, she realized that those nearest her were all landlivers, perfumed against such a naked show of emotion, and they were shuffling away from her in distaste. With a muttered curse she stormed back to the city, splashing loudly off the end of the mole.

And good riddance, Awb thought. He had long wished that something of the sort might happen. Of course, like everyone else, he would have hoped to love his budder … but did she like him? Had she liked any of her offspring? True, it was a custom in every floating city to trade off young’uns to communities where, for some reason, the fertility treatment had not properly taken, or been counteracted in emergency, but she never stopped boasting about what splendid bargains she had struck for her four eldest … all of whom were she’uns.

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