Through the Eye of a Needle

11. First Aid

The three in the outrigger received and correctly interpreted the Hunter's last signal, and for some time were far too excited and exultant to pay any attention to events on the bottom. None of them was ever sure just how much time passed before anyone began to wonder why no more signals were coming through; and even for Bob it took still longer for curiosity to become anxiety.

Eventually he gave a few jerks to the rope-the surface-to-depth telegraph was still only a plan. Naturally, there was now no response. He decided that his symbiont must have left the pipe and was exploring the ship in detail. No plans had been made for signaling or any other action in such a situation, and Bob spent some time abusing himself verbally for the omission. The Hunter agreed later that they had both been pretty stupid, but insisted on taking his share of the blame, since he had after all been in a much better position to foresee what actually happened. After all, Seever had mentioned "normal police procedures."

Something like half an hour was spent waiting and occasionally pulling on the rope before the three became really disturbed. Maeta finally went overboard and swam down to see, if possible, what was going on, but even diving goggles did not let her examine the pipe in real detail. She was quite sure, when she pulled it out of the mud, that the Hunter was inside, and to make really certain she checked by touch.

For two reasons she failed to detect the tendrils the Hunter had extended from his main mass; they had broken when she lifted the pipe; and they were too fine anyway. The damage to the Hunter when they broke was negligible; the memory patterns which formed his identity were stored with multiple redundancy throughout his tissue. Cutting him into two equal parts would have been bad unless they could have rejoined almost at once, but the few milligrams he had lost in the ship would not have bothered him even if he had been conscious.

The ship had been booby-trapped with a half-living substance designed to immobilize members of his species; but it had no effect on the far coarser human cells, so Maeta herself was able to return to the surface, get her breath, and report.

Bob, wasting no more time, hauled up the pipe. He had been hoping that the trouble was merely electrical failure up to this, point; but when he left his hand in contact with the jelly for several minutes without becoming aware of the Hunter's presence by any sort of word or signal; he knew that something much more serious was wrong. They headed for shore at once, with Bob wondering aloud why the Hunter had never given him a course in first aid for symbionts.

They headed at top speed for the Seevers' home, giving no thought to practical jokers. Fortunately their bicycles seemed intact. Maeta carried the pipe, since Bob had only one really usable arm and none of the bicycle carriers was adequate. The girl found it quite awkward; she had to carry the pipe open end up, after discovering that the Hunter's unconscious form-to use the noun loosely-was slowly pouring out when she held it horizontally.

None of them really expected that Seever could be of much help, but no other line of action occurred to them.

They were rather disconcerted, upon entering the reception room, to find Jenny seated beside her usual desk with the damaged foot on a hassock in front of her. She was talking, apparently quite amiably, to Andre desChenes, who did not react at all at the sight of the newcomers. No one else was in the room.

Jenny saw the pipe, but did not realize at first that it was occupied. Her first assumption, she admitted later, was that something had gone wrong with the detector. Then she realized that they would hardly have brought such a problem to her father, and decided that something more serious had happened; but the delay kept her from asking reflexively any hasty and injudicious questions with the boy present. She came, she confessed, within a split second of asking whether the ship they had found was an instrument error.

"Is anyone with your father?" Maeta asked before any of them could make a slip.

"No, he's in the next room, or if he isn't, call," replied Jenny.

The three went into the inner room, and met Seever just entering by the other door. He looked at Maeta's burden and frowned.

"Trouble?" Bob described the situation tersely, and Seever looked closely into the pipe at its unresponsive occupant.

"You've touched him and nothing happened."

"I kept my hand on him all the way to shore and nothing happened."

"Hmph." The doctor was out of his depth as far as direct experience went, but he was a logical man. "I can't tell offhand whether he’s unconscious, paralyzed, or dead. We'll assume one of the first two, since the last doesn't give us anything to go on. Assuming he's alive, the first thing is to keep him that way. We know he needs oxygen. He may be getting enough through that six or eight square inches, since he can't be using much at the moment, but I'd say we'd better pour him into something which will give him more exposed surface. What's his volume-a couple of quarts? A pie plate won't be enough and I don't suppose separating him among several would be a very good idea. He must have some essential continuity to his structure, even if shape doesn't mean anything to him. Here, maybe this will do." He had found a large enamel basin, and they inverted the pipe over it. After a few moments Bob suggested that the plug at the upper end also be removed. Seever finally managed this while Maeta held up the pipe itself.

The alien tissue was very viscous and flowed slowly. Seever thought this might be a good sign, implying that whatever forces permitted the being to control his shape must still be operating. He was right, as it happened, but none of them could be sure. Bob's mention of rigor mortis helped no one's morale.

Eventually the mass of green semi-fluid was in the basin, spreading slowly toward the edges. "Bob, you're, the chemist," said Seever. "What else has he told you about his needs? I assume they include water."

"Not the way we do. It's not inside his cells; they're: not really cells in the way ours are, just complex single molecules. There is water, but it's bonded to the surface for the most part and doesn't form part of the inside architecture."

"Then there's no osmotic problem-it won't matter if we give him fresh water or salt?"

"No. He can exist in both, as well as in our body fluids. You probably needn't give him any, but I suppose it won't do any damage and might be safer. I'd be more worried, though, about food."

"Why?" asked Seever.

"That's really his smallest reserve. He can last for a while outside a host body without-well, fuel-but the time is limited. He has nothing corresponding to human fat or glycogen as a reserve. When he was under water in the pipe he was always catching and eating small organisms which were trying to eat him, he said."

"I see. I suppose any of his so-called cells can carry out digestion, as they seem to do everything else. Well, then, all we can do is sprinkle a little water on him, drop in a piece of cheese-protein seems most likely to have everything he'd need chemically-and hope. It's logical, but somehow it doesn't seem like medical practice."

Whatever it seemed like to Seever, it was what they did. They used only a small amount of water, so as not to shut tile patient off too completely from air. This was unfortunate, since more water would have absorbed the paralyzing agent more quickly. Its distribution coefficient between water and the tissue of the Hunter's species was very small-it had to be, to be as quick a trap, as it was-but it was far from zero.

That left the group with nothing to do but sit and theorize. Most were concerned about the Hunter himself. Bob's mother hadalready started to wonder what the alien's prolonged separation would do to her son, but did not at first mention this to the others.

Maeta suggested that they go back to the waiting room to see what Jenny had learned from Andre, but the older people thought this injudicious, since Andre might still be there, and Bob did not want to leave his symbiont. His mother offered to stay with the patient while Bob got something to eat, but while they were still discussing the matter the door opened and Jenny crutched herself in.

Her question about what had happened at the reef collided with several about her progress with her young suspect, but Jenny, won, and some minutes were spent by Maeta and Bob, telling the story of the morning's events. Jenny took her first really good look at the Hunter with great interest, and was with some difficulty persuaded to take her attention from the hospital basin and report on her interview. Her words were suggestive but inconclusive.

"I can't really prove anything," she admitted, "but I'm more certain than before that he's done most of these things. He's harder to get hold of than a jellyfish. He never actually, denied any of the tricks, but he wouldn't admit them in so many words, either."

"Which ones did you ask him about?" asked Bob.

"The boat? The rope? My handlebars? Your foot?"

"Not all of them. I started with my foot, since I had the sample available, and pointed out how I could have bled to death if there hadn't been anyone around to help. He agreed that this was bad, and remarked that if people were going to leave glass around the island everyone would have to start wearing shoes the way they do in Europe and the States. I didn't ask why he thought it was glass instead of metal or a shell; I wanted to save his slips, if that was one, to dump on him all at once later.

"I mentioned your broken arm, and he said you must have gotten out of bike practice while you were away. How many people did you tell how that happened, Bob?"

"I didn't tell anyone the whole story, except of course you folks here, and Dad. I told the fellows at work that I'd had a fall."

"Did you mention it was off a bike?" she asked emphatically. 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. Iwish 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 hello, 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 assured 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 ship 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 ship, on the assumption 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 ship. They couldn't help noticing it"

"It may not be quite that easy," Maeta pointed out. "The ship is buried under, the mud, and the bottle might not be obvious. They might not pay attention to anything not buried like the ship. The Hunter could probably, have put his message inside the ship, 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 assured her. "Inever 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 ship 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 spaceships 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 ships. 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 ship. 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 ship, 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 ship 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 ship. 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 ship," 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. "Noway 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 likeours. 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 pass 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 shirt 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 shifted 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 massive 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 noddedin 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 scrapings from the tissue of the other arm.