Gravity Mission

Author: (USA) Hal Clement / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Winter Storm at the Bay of Chrysanthemum
The wind howled like a living creature, sweeping across the bay, completely shattering the calm sea surface and mixing it so that it was impossible to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began. The vast ocean, raged by the storm, could in an instant swallow the "Bly" like a gust of wind sweeping away wood chips. The towering waves, stirred up by the wind, rose to a full foot high, only to be scattered by the gale into a spray that filled the air. Bernolan crouched on the high wooden raft at the stern of his ship, the only one drenched by the spray. His "Bly" had already been safely landed. As soon as Bernolan knew he would winter here, he immediately dragged his ship firmly onto land. But at this moment, he couldn’t help but worry: the waves were dozens of times higher than anything he had ever encountered at sea. It was due to the lack of gravity that the waves could crest so high. Similarly, because of the lack of gravity, even if the towering waves swept the coast, they would not cause any serious damage to the "Bly," yet he couldn’t shake his unease. Bernolan was not particularly superstitious, but being so close to the "Edge of the World," no one could say for sure what might happen. Even his crew, who were as unimaginative as they came, occasionally grew restless and muttered in private about the misfortune that would befall them if they crossed the "Edge of the World." They secretly complained that something monstrous lay beyond the "Edge of the World," stirring up this terrifying storm that raged for thousands of miles. Whatever this creature was, it was bound to hate being disturbed by outsiders. Whenever something unexpected happened, the crew would start a new round of complaints, but any accident here was as common as everyday occurrences, and the complaints never ceased.
The Mekslings were accustomed to their weight of about 550 pounds, but here they weighed only 2.25 pounds. In such a situation, a slight carelessness could lead to a fall. Bernolan, the captain, knew this all too well, but the crew simply couldn’t wrap their heads around it. Only those who were educated possessed the ability to understand their situation and quickly adjust to the new environment; at the very least, they had to be people with logical thinking habits. Donnelmore should have been better than others, but even he had his long body tensed, and before he fully grasped the meaning of what was happening outside the two rafts, he almost let out a command. It was Donnelmore, his first mate, who, without fail, chose this moment to check the mooring rope of a mast. Taking advantage of his near-total lack of weight, he lifted his body from the ground and, using his six hind legs, wobbled precariously to maintain balance.
Most of the crew of the "Bly" had seen similar antics before, but even so, his movements still looked incredibly amusing. However, Bernolan found none of it amusing at all. At his weight of only two pounds, he had to hold onto something at all times, or even a gentle breeze could carry him away, and his six crawling legs could not hold onto anything. The hurricane roared, and even as Bernolan shouted desperately, no one could hear his commands. He was about to crawl across the open space between himself and the scene of the farce when he saw his first mate firmly tie a piece of rigging to his belt, the other end secured on the deck, and lie flat on the ground, almost as steady as a mast that had been knocked over and secured.
Bernolan felt relieved once again. He understood why Donnelmore had stood up earlier—it was a performance. Whatever had raised this storm, Donnelmore, through his actions, showed contempt for it, thereby dispelling the crew’s fear. "Good for him," Bernolan thought silently, turning his attention back to the bay. No one could say where the coast line was. The white foam from the waves mixed with the nearly white sand, swirling into a white vortex that formed a wall of water around the "Bly," hiding everything beyond it in a hundred yards. And now, methane raindrops struck Bernolan’s eye sockets like bullets, and he could no longer even see his own ship.
Fortunately, the deck under many of Bernolan’s feet was as solid as rock. Although the ship had also lost weight due to the lack of gravity, it seemed unlikely to be blown away. "The 'Bly' will never be blown away," Bernolan thought grimly, "how many ropes are tied to the anchor deeply embedded in the ground, and to the low trees scattered along the shore. Yes, it shouldn’t be a problem. But what if?" More ships had disappeared without a trace after venturing too close to the "Edge of the World," and the "Bly" was no exception. The crew’s suspicion about the Fliers might be justified. After all, it was the strange creatures who had persuaded him to stay here for the winter, yet the Fliers had made no promises to protect the ship or its crew. On the other hand, it would have been just as easy for the Fliers to eliminate Bernolan and his crew. Why go to the trouble of luring them to the "Edge of the World"?
The Fliers had the ability to pilot that enormous creature up above the "Bly"! Although weight no longer meant anything here, this feat was still enough to leave Bernolan speechless. Bernolan forced himself not to think about it. Like everyone else on Mekslum, as long as there was something solid above their heads—even if it was only temporary—they would become terrified. The crew had long since taken shelter under the canopy, and even the first mate had stopped his work when the storm approached. Everyone was there, piled under the canopy, and Bernolan had already counted them all when he could still see the entire ship. Knowing the storm was coming, he had not sent anyone out to hunt. This time, the Fliers did not need to warn them—the signs of worsening weather were obvious to any sailor. In the past ten days, no one had left the safe distance of five miles from the "Bly." Of course, the "Bly" was well-stocked with food, and Bernolan was not foolish—he had made sure to exclude the dull-witted when hiring. But no matter how much food they had, it was always better than fresh. He really wanted to know how long this storm would trap them on the ship. The crew had seen the signs of the storm coming clearly, but its duration was impossible to determine from the signs.
Perhaps the Fliers knew. Whether they did or not, the "Bly" was doing nothing anyway, and it might be a good idea to talk to the strange creatures. Every time Bernolan looked at the instrument the Fliers had given him, he found it hard to believe, needing to steel himself to trust its capabilities.
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