"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.
"My own recipe," Tobit answered proudly. "You can't get booze from the local food synthesizers, but they produce some superbly fermentable fruit juices. The only hard work was programming the maintenance-bots not to throw out what I produced: they thought it was lemonade gone bad."
He laughed. I didn't. "What do your skin-faced friends think?" I asked. "Do they like a lord and master who drinks himself into a stupor?"
"Ramos," he answered, still chuckling, "they adore a lord and master who shares his liquor. Like I said, their food synthesizers don't make the stuff. They didn't know what they were missing till I came along." He gave me a leering smile. "How do you think I became their lord and master in the first place?"
"If you are anyone's lord and master," Oar said, "they are very stupid people. You are ugly and you smell." She slipped her arm into mine. "Let us go now, Festina."
"You ain't going nowhere yet, girlie," Tobit told her. He didn't sound offended; calling Oar 'girlie' might have been his attempt at rakish charm. "The only way to leave is inside a shark… and frankly," he waved toward the dock, "neither of those is seaworthy anymore."
"Can you summon other machines?" I asked.
"Nope. They show up on their own when they need to refuel. One docks in every few days. In the meantime… you can both be guests at my birthday party."
I said nothing; but Tobit must have seen how undelighted I was. "Cheer up!" he said, giving my arm a light slap, "you'll like my parties. I give presents to my guests, not the other way around. And I've just thought of a doozy for you."
HAPPY
We walked back to the central plaza, Oar still holding my arm to keep me between her and Tobit. Every so often she sniffed pointedly; she could smell the liquor on him. In her mind, he must be the epitome of dirty.
As we drew near the Morlocks' building, I made sure my stunner was ready for a quick draw. Tobit might claim to control his "subjects" but I had my doubts; I had my doubts about everything Tobit said. If those Skin-Faces attacked, I had to be ready to knock them out…
I stopped in the street as a thought struck me. What would sonics do to a glass person? They weren't real glass… but the shark machine rang like a chime when I shot it. I wondered if the Morlocks would resonate too. That might be a vulnerability of people who were hard instead of soft. Could sonics from a stunner seriously injure them? The blasts had damaged the machine; or maybe I had just scrambled some sonar guidance system and the real damage happened when the shark ran into that log.
Impossible to say — but I pushed the stunner back into my belt so I wouldn't be tempted to use it. For a moment, I had imagined Oar's body shattering, like a wineglass breaking under an opera singer's voice. I couldn't do that, even to a Skin-Face.
No more killing. No more killing.
Tobit led us into the building where I'd first seen him — a building smelling of booze mixed with vomit. Oar convulsed in a coughing fit as soon as the odor reached her. I held down my gorge with memories from the Academy: waking on the floor after an end-of-term bash, the arms of other Explorers draped over me, everyone's breath so flammable the air purity sensors blinked yellow. Why had we done it? Because we were young and tongue-tied; getting drunk together was the greatest intimacy we would dare attempt.