Hal Clement, page 4
“You trusted human lives to your own guess, then. How does that fit with First Law?” asked Luis.
“I did not. The lives were already at risk through no fault of mine. I told you the best action I could suggest at the time,” answered Chile. “I also implied that it would be unnecessary; I used the conditional.” Luis blinked, thinking back.
“It’s one of those old-fashioned happy endings!” Chispa laughed. “We really have found proof of alien life, and when Chile, or maybe Chile and Dumbo between them, have worked out this machine’s code, we’ll know everything it’s learned about Miranda in however long it’s been here. Nobel prizes all around. And all the romance anyone could want.” She moved closer to Luis; then, just visibly to the others through her face plate, glanced at Sheila. “Well…” Her voice trailed off.
A snort, recognizably Ling’s, sounded in their helmets.
“If I’ve been that obvious, forget it. There’s such a thing as self-respect.” He made another, less describable sound.
“I can stand self-respect, even when it slops over into conceit,” Sheila said quietly. “It’s much better than hinting. How about ‘Rorschach’ for a team name?”
“Why be subtle? ‘Blot’ is more euphonious. But I’ll go with anything you like. What, except for wasted time, is in a—”
“And maybe the folks who set up this station will be back soon!” interrupted Chispa merrily.
The End
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Blot, Hal Clement
