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A
brief
pause
while
Dallas
checked
the
cable
remaining
on
the
spool
.
’
Fine
.
Got
over
fifty
metres
left
.
If
the
shaft
runs
deeper
than
that
we
’
ll
have
to
call
this
off
until
we
can
bring
bigger
stuff
from
the
ship
.
I
wouldn
’
t
think
it
’
d
go
that
far
down
,
though
.
’
’
What
makes
you
think
so
?
’
Dallas
sounded
thoughtful
.
’
Would
make
the
ship
all
out
of
proportion
.
’
’
Proportion
to
what
?
And
to
whose
ideas
of
proportion
?
’
Dallas
did
not
have
a
reply
for
that
.
Ripley
would
have
given
up
on
the
search
if
she
’
d
had
anything
better
to
do
.
She
did
not
.
Playing
at
the
ECIU
board
was
better
than
wandering
around
an
empty
ship
or
staring
at
the
vacant
seats
surrounding
her
.
Unexpectedly
,
a
realignment
of
priorities
in
her
querying
jogged
something
within
the
ship
’
s
Brobdingnagian
store
of
information
.
The
resultant
readout
appeared
on
the
screen
so
abruptly
she
almost
erased
it
and
continued
with
the
next
series
before
she
realized
she
actually
had
received
a
sensible
response
.
The
trouble
with
computers
,
she
thought
,
was
that
they
had
no
intuitive
senses
.
Only
deductive
ones
.
You
had
to
ask
the
right
question
.
She
studied
the
readout
avidly
,
frowned
,
punched
for
elaboration
.
Sometimes
Mother
could
be
unintentionally
evasive
.
You
had
to
know
how
to
weed
out
the
confusing
subtleties
.
This
time
,
however
,
the
readout
was
clear
enough
,
left
no
room
for
misunderstanding
.
She
wished
fervently
that
it
had
.
She
jabbed
at
the
intercom
.
A
voice
answered
promptly
.
’
Science
blister
.
What
is
it
,
Ripley
?
’
