The bottom part was more difficult. The basic delta of the crotch hadn't been damaged, but the individual pouches of the belt had blown away separately. Putting them back together used up most of my chemicals, because I wanted an arrangement that would fit my real waist, not the bulbous girth of the original suit. After much trial and error, I jury-rigged a two-tiered pattern that worked well enough; but that left me low on solvent and fixative, too low for constructing pantlegs. The path of least resistance was to glue my remaining scraps to the foundation of the crotch, building a skirt from a spiral patchwork of cloth until I exhausted my supply of adhesive. The result came just to my knee — higher than I liked with winter coming on, but I had flared the skirt wide to give my legs freedom of movement. Cold knees were one thing; not being able to deliver a good side kick was something else.
I had fabric left over when I ran out of glue, plus a lot of spare gadgetry — air tanks, pressure pump, life-sign monitors, etc. They could stay on the sand where they were; I doubted I'd need them again. Carting them around the countryside would just waste energy… unless, of course, Jelca could strip them down and use the parts for something.
Jelca. Jelca was here on Melaquin.
I might have thought about that for a long time if Oar's boat hadn't appeared again.
The Scalpel
Chee's body was no longer sprawled on the boat… and when the glass lid opened, Oar was gone too. The boat stood empty on the sand like a plundered sarcophagus. I could almost feel it waiting: waiting for me to get in so it could carry me away. It must have come back to take me to Oar's home — an underwater habitat like the ones on Attulpac, or perhaps something subterranean… a hidden place, undetectable from orbit.
Did I want to board a glass coffin and ride off into dark water?
Yarrun was dead. The admiral was dead. For a moment, I couldn't think of a reason to move forward or back. Then reflex took over and I found myself packing things into the boat.
Always do the next necessary thing.
The Bumbler had to go, of course… and Chee's backpack, which I'd removed before sending him off forever. I'd also have to retrieve my own pack, still lying amidst the daisies on top of the bluffs. Oar would be impatient for me to join her, but I refused to abandon things I might need later.
Climbing the bluffs was easier than I expected — Chee's body had flattened a trail on its way down. The gloves of my tightsuit were still intact, so I could catch hold of weeds and pull myself up, without worrying about thorns and burrs. Apart from a run-in with stinging nettles on my bare right calf, I reached the meadow unscathed.
Everything was where I had dropped it: my pack, my stunner, Yarrun's helmet… and the scalpel, black now with Yarrun's dried blood. I didn't want to touch it. I wanted to leave it there forever, rusting in the rain.
But it was probably made of rustproof metal.
And it would be cruel to leave something so sharp where animals could injure themselves.
And a true Explorer doesn't abandon a useful tool just because she's squeamish.
Carefully, I wiped the blade on the grass.
Carefully, I put the scalpel away in the first aid kit.
Then I threw the kit into my backpack and fairly ran back down the bluffs.
Thunks
With so much equipment stuffed into the boat, I had to wriggle to get in myself. The boat waited motionless for me to settle; since Oar had given it voice commands before, perhaps I had to say something to get it started.
"Okay," I announced. "I'm ready to go."
The boat didn't react immediately; but after I'd lain still and silent for five seconds, the lid slowly lowered. It came to within a centimeter of my face — any jostling, and I'd bump my nose on the glass. I hoped we weren't going far… not just because the space was cramped, but because it wouldn't take long to exhaust the scant air inside the coffin.
Smoothly the boat moved out. Black water lapped on both sides, inching up the walls until it eased over the top: the craft was submerging. I had one last glimpse of the moon and stars — my sky, the night sky — and then they were swallowed by blackness. A hand's breadth of water above me was enough to cut off all light coming from the outside world.
Whatever propelled the boat worked silently. The only sounds were my careful breathing and my heartbeat. A drop of water fell against my cheek and I felt sudden panic — was the boat leaking? But it was only the moisture of my breath, condensing on the glass so close above me and dripping back down.
Something thumped against the boat near my feet. I jumped enough to clonk my nose on the glass, watering my eyes… but nothing else happened.
A fish — it must have been a fish, rudely surprised by colliding with a nearly invisible submarine.
And where there is one fish, there are many more.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Sometimes the hits were direct, sometimes soft glancing blows. The impacts had no pattern — whole minutes could go by in total silence, then two jolts one after another, like the proverbial water torture, never knowing when the next drop will come.
At least it kept my mind off the stuffiness of an unventilated coffin sailing with tons of water overhead.
I didn't think about that at all.
Austere
The ride ended in a sudden bloom of light, beginning at my feet and sliding swiftly up the length of my body as the boat glided into an illuminated space. I had not looked at my watch before starting out, so I can't say how long the voyage lasted… perhaps ten minutes, though it felt like an hour. It was lengthy enough that my eyes had adjusted to the total underwater blackness; even squinting, I could see nothing against the light now beating on my eyes.
The boat's lid opened and I heard Oar's voice. "Why did you take so long? Did you not understand to enter the boat? Are all Explorers stupid?"
Nice to see you again too, I thought. But the next moment I realized she must have stood there waiting, wondering if I had abandoned her the way Jelca had. In a conciliatory voice, I said, "Sorry — I needed time to pack my gear. Where are we now?"
"This is my home, Festina. It is the most beautiful home in the universe."
My eyes were beginning to adjust to the light… not the fierce light it seemed when I emerged from total blackness, but a grayish glow like an overcast day. Oar stood beside me, hands on hips, keen for me to stop squinting and admire her home.
Beyond her lay a village of glass. Why should I have been surprised?
We stood near the edge of a space two hundred meters in circumference, covered with a hemispherical dome. The dome was either jet-black itself or transparent to the light-less water of the lake. Underneath the dome stood two dozen buildings, all glass: high Moorish towers where the dome offered enough headroom, and squat rectangular blockhouses out on the periphery. Boulevards separated each structure from its neighbors; and looking to the middle of town, I saw a plaza where two glass fountains sprayed water high into the air.
Clear water. Clear glass. I found myself searching for any hint of color, a tint to the glass or a prism-effect that broke light into spectra; but the glass was as pristine as crystal, and the sky too muted for rainbows. I couldn't even tell where the lighting came from — it was simply there, so pervasive it didn't allow my eye the relief of shadows.
"Is my home not beautiful?" Oar asked.
"Austere," I replied.
"What does that word mean?"
"Pure," I said. "Clean."
"Yes." She sounded pleased. "Very very clean."
Clean of everything — the streets were empty. Oar and I were the only people in sight.
A Tour
"Do you live here alone?" I asked.
"Do not be foolish," Oar answered. "I have many many ancestors."
"And they're here?"