Of course, he hadn't tipped off Yarrun or me — we'd chosen the Landing site ourselves. If we'd picked the wrong continent, would Chee have talked us out of it? Or were his brains so scrambled that he'd forgotten all about Melaquin? YouthBoost meltdown does ugly things to memory; Chee had said so himself. It would have been ironic if we were the one party to land on the wrong continent, because Chee couldn't remember his own advice.
Tobit was still talking. "Think about it, Ramos. Once you've decided on this continent, where are you going to land? West of the prairies, you've got mountains all the way to the coast — ugly terrain for touchdown. So you either pick the plains themselves, or go for a clear space in the lake country up north. Nothing else makes sense."
"True enough," I admitted. And maybe that explained why Jelca and Ullis had put down in the same neighborhood we did. Plains vs. lake country was a fifty-fifty choice; and if you chose the lakes, Explorers would then start looking for a region of bluffs, to get the advantage of a height of land. "Still," I said, "this continent must have a million square klicks of landable area. I find it remarkable we should just run into each other…"
"Run into each other?" Tobit laughed. "I don't know about you, Ramos, but I got ambushed by a fucking glass shark. There's dozens of those things patrolling the river; they've got the whole watershed covered, hundreds of klicks upstream and down. Anyone crossing the water stands a good chance of getting captured — you think you're the first Explorer I've seen in eight years? You're number thirteen, sweetheart, and piss off if you're superstitious."
I stared at him. "You mean there are twelve other Explorers in this town?"
He made an exasperated sound. "Not now, Ramos. One look at me, and they took off like gassed rabbits. Shows what loyal friends I made at the Academy."
"So there's a way out of this town?"
Tobit grimaced. "You just set a record, Ramos. Shortest effort at small-talk before you brought up the subject of leaving." He gave a jaundiced grin. "Even at the Academy, you were famous for your people skills."
"So were you," I said.
People Skills
One of the Skin-Face women trotted up to us. "Lord Tobit," she said with a worshipful bow, "the bell just rang again."
"Hot damn!" he replied, rubbing his hands together like an enthusiastic host. "The sharks have brought another visitor, Ramos. Your partner, no doubt."
"No. My partner is dead."
"Dead?" Tobit stared as if I'd made a joke. "An Explorer dead? On a candy planet like this? What'd you do to him?"
I returned Tobit's gaze till he flinched.
"The new visitor is probably a friend of mine," I said coldly. "A local. We'd better go reassure her. She gets upset easily."
"A local," Tobit repeated. "All glass?"
"Yes."
"Eloi," snarled the Skin-Face woman, her lips curling into a sneer.
"None of that," Tobit snapped. "No one starts a fight on my birthday. Take the squad back to base, lieutenant."
"Yes sir," she answered immediately. With a brisk salute, she pivoted away and returned to her three companions. A moment later, they disappeared into the nearest building.
"Eloi?" I asked.
"My own terminology," Tobit replied. "The solid glass layabouts are Eloi; the ones with skin are Morlocks. It's from a book."
"And you've trained your cadets to say Eloi with hatred? Very nice, Phylar. I love when Explorers spread enlightenment to the people they meet."
"The Morlocks hated the Eloi long before I got here," he answered. "It's a religious thing; but I've reined them in." His words would have been more convincing if he hadn't tossed a glance over his shoulder and added, "We'd better greet your friend before someone gets too upset."
He strode off quickly in the direction I had just come. I followed, saying nothing. It was tempting to take this chance to ask where the Morlocks got the skin for their faces; it was tempting to ask whether the Explorers who previously visited this town had really left in one piece. If, however, the Morlocks' false flesh had come from flayed Explorers, Tobit was in this mess up to his bloodshot eyeballs. Calling him on it would bring the issue to a boil; and I preferred to delay any confrontation until I knew Oar was safe.
When we were almost to the edge of the town, Tobit asked softly, "Your partner… who was it?"
"Yarrun Derigha."
"The kid with the jaw?"
"Without."
"Same thing." He walked in silence a few more steps. "Oh well," Tobit said at last, "that's what 'expendable' means."
He gave me a sideways glance, as if trying to decide whether to pat my arm reassuringly; but he did nothing.
Welcoming Oar
"This will be the first Eloi I've seen down here," Tobit said as we approached the door to the shark-machine dock.
"Didn't Jelca and Ullis pass this way?" I asked.
He nodded. "Three years ago."
"They were traveling with my friend's sister."
"Not when the sharks picked them up," Tobit shrugged. "The sister might have dodged getting caught; but the other two didn't mention traveling with another person. And they stayed a few days, like they weren't in a hurry to make a rendezvous."
I had no chance to pursue the subject — we had reached the door to the dock. Tobit pressed the OPEN button… and I barely managed to pull him from the entranceway before Oar leapt out, her hands bunched into fists.
It was a creditable imitation of my own response to surprise. These people certainly were fast learners.
"Don't worry, Oar," I said, "no one's going to hurt you."
"I did not like it inside the fish," she said with an injured tone.
Glancing into the dock area, I said, "No kidding." Oar's shark was more of a wreck than the one I'd blasted… except that the glass on hers was cracked from the inside, where she must have tried to punch her way out. "I see you found a way to amuse yourself on the trip."
Oar ignored me — she had noticed the town and was viewing it with a steely eye. "What is this place?" she asked. "Why is it so stupid?"
"Stupid?" Tobit asked.
"It is stupid to copy someone else's home," she sniffed, "and if you must create a copy, it is stupid to make so many mistakes." She waved her hand dismissively. "It is too big. It has ugly things attached to it."
"Those are flags!" Tobit said. "My friends hung them to celebrate my birthday."
"Get smarter friends," she told him, and turned her back pointedly.
Home-Brew
"What is a birthday?" Oar whispered to me.
"A commemoration," I replied. "A remembrance of the day a person was born." I tossed a glance at Tobit. "Phylar remembers his birthday with great regularity."
"No need to be rude," Tobit said. "I'll have you know, this is my real birthday, Ramos… on some pissant planet whose name escapes me. I'll look it up when I get back to my quarters."
"You brought your birthday calculator to Melaquin?"
"I knew I'd get marooned here," he answered. "I made sure to bring everything I need. Speaking of which…" He reached into a tightsuit pocket and withdrew a silver brandy flask. "Want a sip?"
The thought made me shudder. "An Explorer never drinks on planet-down missions."
"Here's some news, Ramos — this stopped being a mission as soon as the High Council choked you unconscious. And I stopped being an Explorer long before that." He raised the flask and took a swig. When he lowered it again, he sighed with pleasure… a sigh that reeked of rotgut alcohol.
"Home-brew?" I asked, trying to control my gag reflex.