being is abusive and will not allow me to touch it. The circumstances call for a
very close decision, one I am unwilling to make. Will you speak to it?”
The area around the transporter had been cleared of casualties with the sole
exception of this Illensan, who refused to be moved. The reason it gave MacEwan
was that while its injuries were not serious, its pressure envelope had suffered
two small ruptures. One of these it had sealed, after a fashion, by grasping the
fabric of its envelope around the tear in both manipulators and holding it
tightly closed, while the other one it had sealed by lying on it. These
arrangements had forced it to increase the internal pressure of the envelope
temporarily, so that it no longer had any clear idea of the duration of its
chlorine tank and asphyxiation might be imminent. But it did not want to be
moved to the relative safety of the transporter, which was also leaking, because
that would allow the lethal atmosphere of the lounge to enter its envelope.
“I would prefer to die of chlorine starvation,” it ended forcefully, “than have
my breathing passages and lungs instantly corroded by your oxygen. Stay away
from me.”
MacEwan swore under his breath but did not approach the Illensan. Where were the
emergency rescue teams? Surely they should have been there by now. The clock
showed that it had been just over twenty-five Earth minutes since the accident.
He could see that the sightseers had been cleared from the lounge’s inner wall,
to be replaced by a Nidian television crew and some uninformed ground staff who
did not appear to be doing anything at all. Outside there were heavy vehicles
drawn up and Nidians with backpacks and helmets scurrying around,
but his constantly watering eyes and the ever-present plastic hangings kept him
from seeing details.
MacEwan pointed suddenly at the hangings and said to the Hudlars, “Will you tear
down a large piece of that plastic material, please, and drape it over the
Illensan. Pat it down flat around the being’s suit and smooth the folds out
toward the edges so as to exclude our air as much as possible. I’ll be back in a
minute.”
He hurried around the transporter to the first Illensan casualty, whose body
had turned a livid, powdery blue and was beginning to disintegrate, and tried to
look only at the fastenings of the chlorine tank. It took him several minutes to
get the tank free of the body harness, and several times his bare hands touched
the dead Illensan’s flesh, which crumbled like rotting wood. He knew that oxygen
was vicious stuff where chlorine breathers were concerned, but now he could
really sympathize with the other Illensan’s panic at the thought of being moved
in a leaking suit.
When he relumed it was Grawlya-Ki who was smoothing out the plastic around the
Illensan while the two Hudlars were standing clear. One of them said
apologetically, “Our movements have become somewhat uncoordinated and the
chlorine breather was worried lest we accidentally fall on it. If there is
something else we can do—”
“Nothing,” MacEwan said firmly.
He turned on the tap of the chlorine tank and slipped it quickly under the
plastic sheet and pushed it close to the Illensan. The extra seepage of the gas
would make little difference, he thought, because the whole area around the
transporter was fast becoming uninhabitable for oxygen breathers. He pressed the
tiny mask hard against his face and took a long, careful breath through his
nose, and used it to speak to the Hudlars.
“I have been thoughtless and seemingly ungrateful for the fine work you have
been doing here,” he said. “There is nothing more that you can do. Please go at
once and spray yourselves with the necessary nutrient. You have acted most
unselfishly, and I am, as are we all, most grateful to you.”
The two Hudlars did not move. MacEwan began placing
pieces of debris around the edges of the plastic and the Orligian, who was quick
on the uptake, began doing the same. Soon the edges were held tightly against
the floor, the gas escaping from the tank was beginning to inflate the plastic,