twenty kilometers from the nearest lake.”
“They seem to die,” was Goodall’s more pessimistic contribution. “In any case, if all these things are made of gel like the one which tried to swallow Oceanus , we still have to explain how liquid methane turns into methyl alcohol.”
“There was a suggestion about that, and the factory is close to an ice source,” Ginger pointed out.
“But not to a lake,” Maria admitted, still rather sadly.
“So Gene drops another lab the second he gets to the factory.”
“Of course, after I land and pick some up,” replied the pilot. “That’ll still be nearly an hour, though. Aren’t there a good many labs already there? Why not get one of those on the job—or two or three, if that’ll make things faster?”
There were several seconds of silence.
“Pete, you’re the strongest of us by a good deal. If I unseal my room, would you take the chance of a quick visit and kick me? You can hold your breath long enough, or wear a suit.”
“No, Art,” replied Martucci, “but not because I’m afraid of breaking quarantine, or even regulations. I’d come and take the chance of staying even longer if it would help the lab work, but I don’t see how kicking anyone would do that.”
“Don’t be so literal. It might remind me not to let my mouth outrun my brain, but we needn’t rub it in, I suppose. I have a lab on the way, Gene.” Goodall was obviously embarrassed, as the others would have been for him if all hadn’t been equally blind. Neither the commander’s morale slip nor the general oversight was mentioned again. Failure to get ideas as soon as they might be useful was a common cause for annoyance but not a reasonable one for guilt. Even replacing the “you” of “if only you’d thought of that” with a “we” would not make such a remark an acceptable, much less a courteous, utterance.
“Better have the lab do samples on the way to the patch, not just after it arrives. We’ll need to compare the patch with the ground in its neighborhood,” pointed out Ginger. This obvious suggestion made everyone feel better; they could all share the onus of delayed conception, and the point that Goodall needn’t consider himself the only offender had been properly raised.
The readings from the alternately scraping and traveling lab held everyone’s close attention while the jet neared the site and began its letdown. Since neither Belvew nor Inger could see the white accumulation starting to grow on the leading edges of its wings, nose, and empennage shortly after the descent began, this made no real difference.
Status, to whom the complete camera fields were accessible, could see some of them, but had no programmed reason to pay them any attention. He—even the women seemed to regard the device as a male personality—just didn’t care.
So when the pilot shifted full alertness to his job as final approach and landing neared, neither his eyes, his waldo sensors, nor his partner told him what was coming, though the frosty ridges leading the wings and stabilizers were now projecting nearly three centimeters. In effect they sharpened the wings and fins, but did not yet make perceptible difference in lift, drag, or stability. With a few hundred more flying hours experience at a wide enough variety of altitudes and speeds, Gene—or anyone—might have learned to recognize and even interpret the tiny discrepancy between thrust and airspeed. Had he actually been riding in the jet for that much time, he might even have felt it.
And if the material had remained where it was until after he had touched down, no one might ever have known about it. There were instruments to read and report on skin temperature at many points on the machine, but not at leading edges. Even with nano and pseudolife technology, and their effect of making complex devices almost costless to build even when rare elements were involved, there were limits to how much could be installed on a flying
“They seem to die,” was Goodall’s more pessimistic contribution. “In any case, if all these things are made of gel like the one which tried to swallow Oceanus , we still have to explain how liquid methane turns into methyl alcohol.”
“There was a suggestion about that, and the factory is close to an ice source,” Ginger pointed out.
“But not to a lake,” Maria admitted, still rather sadly.
“So Gene drops another lab the second he gets to the factory.”
“Of course, after I land and pick some up,” replied the pilot. “That’ll still be nearly an hour, though. Aren’t there a good many labs already there? Why not get one of those on the job—or two or three, if that’ll make things faster?”
There were several seconds of silence.
“Pete, you’re the strongest of us by a good deal. If I unseal my room, would you take the chance of a quick visit and kick me? You can hold your breath long enough, or wear a suit.”
“No, Art,” replied Martucci, “but not because I’m afraid of breaking quarantine, or even regulations. I’d come and take the chance of staying even longer if it would help the lab work, but I don’t see how kicking anyone would do that.”
“Don’t be so literal. It might remind me not to let my mouth outrun my brain, but we needn’t rub it in, I suppose. I have a lab on the way, Gene.” Goodall was obviously embarrassed, as the others would have been for him if all hadn’t been equally blind. Neither the commander’s morale slip nor the general oversight was mentioned again. Failure to get ideas as soon as they might be useful was a common cause for annoyance but not a reasonable one for guilt. Even replacing the “you” of “if only you’d thought of that” with a “we” would not make such a remark an acceptable, much less a courteous, utterance.
“Better have the lab do samples on the way to the patch, not just after it arrives. We’ll need to compare the patch with the ground in its neighborhood,” pointed out Ginger. This obvious suggestion made everyone feel better; they could all share the onus of delayed conception, and the point that Goodall needn’t consider himself the only offender had been properly raised.
The readings from the alternately scraping and traveling lab held everyone’s close attention while the jet neared the site and began its letdown. Since neither Belvew nor Inger could see the white accumulation starting to grow on the leading edges of its wings, nose, and empennage shortly after the descent began, this made no real difference.
Status, to whom the complete camera fields were accessible, could see some of them, but had no programmed reason to pay them any attention. He—even the women seemed to regard the device as a male personality—just didn’t care.
So when the pilot shifted full alertness to his job as final approach and landing neared, neither his eyes, his waldo sensors, nor his partner told him what was coming, though the frosty ridges leading the wings and stabilizers were now projecting nearly three centimeters. In effect they sharpened the wings and fins, but did not yet make perceptible difference in lift, drag, or stability. With a few hundred more flying hours experience at a wide enough variety of altitudes and speeds, Gene—or anyone—might have learned to recognize and even interpret the tiny discrepancy between thrust and airspeed. Had he actually been riding in the jet for that much time, he might even have felt it.
And if the material had remained where it was until after he had touched down, no one might ever have known about it. There were instruments to read and report on skin temperature at many points on the machine, but not at leading edges. Even with nano and pseudolife technology, and their effect of making complex devices almost costless to build even when rare elements were involved, there were limits to how much could be installed on a flying
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