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who had stopped to wait for them at the underground entrance to the meeting
hall.
"It will be pleasant to be indoors, out of the snow," remarked
Blue-Stare to Sam, casually, "Although it will cost us some energy since we
must provide our own light." A concave depression formed itself in the head
portion of Blue-Stare's node and began to emit a blue glow, which shone in the
direction the eye was looking.
The humans slowed their steps, seeing ahead of them an oval opening in
the side of an ice bank, into which a number of icerug nodes were gliding and
disappearing. As each icerug node started down the tunnel that led
underground, their bodies too began to emit a glow from the head portion of
their node to illuminate the path before them. With senses alert, the humans
followed them into the tunnel, unhooking permalights from their belts to light
their own way. Since the tunnel was tall enough to admit the icerug nodes, it
was taller than the humans, and smoothly sided with solid ice. The angle of
the floor sloped downwards steeply, and the booted feet of the humans began to
slide. Trying not to step on the multitude of colored trails leading downward,
Cinnamon lost her balance, clutched vainly at the hard-frozen walls, and sat
down hard in the center of the path. She gasped, and the two men beside her
grabbed her arms and attempted to lift her to her feet. In the process they
all fell and began to slide helplessly down the tunnel. They finally arrived
at a level surface in a headlong tumble, and looked around.
From their undignified position, they were able to see that they were
in a large cavern, whose walls and ceilings were apparently made of dressed
stone arches supporting blocks of carved ice, which had been arranged into
geometric designs made up of triangles and hexagons. Light from the nodes of
two dozen icerugs illuminated a scene of quiet peace, as the strange alien
eyes were turned in mild curiosity towards the untidy little heap of humanity.
Sam's long legs felt as clumsy as a colt's as he struggled to his feet.
Once more upright, Cinnamon felt her breathing slow, and she looked about her
with amazement. Thomas's camera was in action again, and he walked without
hindrance through the crowd of aliens, stepping carefully over any of the
colored trails that he saw. Sam and Cinnamon followed, with growing confidence
as they observed that even an inadvertent step directly upon a trail seemed to
cause no distress to any of the nodes. Sam, conscious of his duty as nominal
commander of the home base party, put in a call to the lander.
"Katrina? Josephine? Can you hear me?" A reassuring reply came quickly
back.
"I have been monitoring you constantly," came Josephine's cool reply.
Page 79
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"You really should have checked with me before you went underground, you
know."
"How is the connection?" asked Sam, properly chastened.
"Perfect," replied Josephine. "The signal strength is down about six
decibels, but I have thirty-two in reserve. The ice, being well below
freezing, transmits the radio channels from your suit quite well -- even the
video images from your helmet cameras are noise-free."
"And very interesting they are, too," added Katrina.
With their communications secure, the beauty of the room began to
fascinate the humans; the constantly shifting lights on the icerug bodies, and
the light reflecting from the large glistening icerug eyes, glittered from the
icy faceting of the walls like a pastel kaleidoscope and was mirrored in the
ceiling curving above them. Around them, the murmurs of icerugs to each other
was like the familiar murmur of any congregation, benign and soothing, but
deep in tone, like a group of pipe organs talking softly to each other. In
approximately the center of the room was a raised area. Judging from the
number of icerug nodes who glided up and down from it steadily, it was not a
position of honor as much as a platform for convenience in being seen while
addressing the group. As each icerug left the platform, it retracted the trail
which it had laid on its way up.
Thomas slowly scanned the room, counting. "Twenty-four," he finally
concluded. "Just exactly the number there should be."
"Why do you say that?" asked Cinnamon, puzzled over Thomas's certainty.
"When I was looking at the panoramic views that I took from the top of
_Victoria_, I realized that the triangular bodies of the icerugs 'tile the
plane'. They aren't perfect triangles by any means, but close enough so that
their overall pattern has a long range hexagonal symmetry. So, at each vertex
of its body, an icerug has five neighbors to speak to -- for a total of six --
as we saw when Blue-Stare and Gray-Mote introduced us to Green-Ring, Five-Arm,
Lavender-Blue, and Smooth-Brown. Since this meeting hall is at a vertex, there
are six icerugs that are nearest to the meeting hall, and eighteen icerugs
that are next-nearest, for a total of twenty-four -- just the number that are
here."
Their physician acquaintance, Gray-Mote, now glided to the center of
the raised platform and spoke, its resonant voice reaching easily to the edges
of the big room. The murmur of voices ceased, but Cinnamon noted with interest
that throughout the ensuing discussion, interruptions were frequent, brief,
and apparently not resented. Although Gray-Mote was the leader of the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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