"This land is strange," Oar said as we clambered out of the cockpit. "It is very tall."
"You've never seen mountains before?" I asked.
"Oh, I have seen many, many mountains," she replied quickly. "I am not such a one who has never seen mountains." She affected an air of blase sophistication, waving her hand dismissively. "I have seen much better mountains than these. Pointier. Snowier. And ones that did not block the light so unpleasantly. These mountains are very gloomy, are they not, Festina?"
I didn't answer. Our landing site was shadowy, when contrasted with our flight in the bright sunshine — we were at ground level now, and the sun was low enough to be blocked by a peak to the west. Still, a little shade didn't mean the place was gloomy… or even very dark. Four nearby peaks still glistened with sun on their snow, filling our valley with a reflected light of heartbreaking quality. The world was clear and quiet: nothing but the murmur of the river and the tick-tick-tick of the lark's engines cooling.
Peace.
For ten seconds.
Then a man strolled out of the forest, wearing nothing but a red tartan kilt.
A human man. An Explorer.
We looked at each other for a long moment. Then we said in unison, "Greetings. I am a sentient citizen of the League of Peoples…"
We both broke up laughing.
One of the Family
He told me his name was Walton: Explorer Commander Gregorio Walton, but he disliked his given name and hated his rank. At first, I thought he'd become an Explorer because of his face — the most wrinkled face I'd seen on a human, a droopy deep-pile face with the jowls of a basset hound. It was only later I noticed that his fingers were webbed like duck feet. That was what made him expendable; the wrinkles were recent developments, the result of decades on Melaquin without benefit of YouthBoost.
Walton had been here twenty-six years. He was only eighty, but appeared twice that age. His general bearing looked healthy enough, but his webbed hands trembled constantly. I had to force myself not to stare.
He used one of those trembling hands to pat the lark's fuselage. "Nice plane," he said. "Noisy, though."
"You heard it coming?" I asked.
"Long before I saw it," he nodded. "Eyesight's not what it was."
"The lark's made of glass," I said. "Hard to see at the best of times."
He smiled. "I like a woman with tact."
"I have tact too," Oar announced.
"Good for you," Walton said.
"For example," Oar continued, "I will not talk about how ugly you are."
"I appreciate it," Walton answered with a smile.
"So are there others nearby?" I asked, to change the subject.
"I'm the only one who comes outside much," he replied. "Meteorology specialist. Put in a small weather station up the mountain a bit — thermometer, anemometer, simple things like that. I was tinkering with the equipment when I heard your engines." He gave me an appraising look. "Don't suppose you know anything about fuzzy circuits? I've got a glitch in my barometer."
"Sorry," I answered. "I'm a zoology specialist. The best I can do is identify the species if something's been nibbling your wires."
He chuckled. "Maybe I should go back and play with the equipment while there's still some light. Getting close to the big day, and we wouldn't want to launch our ship into the teeth of a blizzard."
"You have a ship ready for launch?"
"Depends who you ask," Walton said. "Some'll tell you it's been ready for months. Others say it needs months more testing. Damned if I know — only aviation I understand is weather balloons."
"Is it…" I paused to think of how to put my question. "Is it a big ship?"
"Don't worry," he replied. "There's room for everyone. Won't be long before you're heading for home."
Walton smiled. I'm sure he expected me to smile back, overjoyed at the prospect of getting off Melaquin. But I wasn't leaving — a murderer couldn't. I tried for a smile anyway, but it didn't fool Walton. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," I answered quickly. "Just… bothered that I've dropped in at the last moment when the work's nearly all done."
"No one will hold that against you," he assured me. "You're one of us, Ramos. You're an Explorer." He took my hand and gave it a friendly shake. His skin felt grizzled against my fingers. "Welcome to the family," he said. "Whatever hard times you've had on Melaquin, you're not alone anymore."
I smiled… and felt alone anyway. Suddenly, I didn't know why I'd come here. To see other Explorers? To see Jelca? Walton's manner was sincerely warm, but I found I could not return it. Any day now, he'd be leaving. They'd all be leaving.
And what would I have then?
On the Ride Down
Walton gave directions to the city entrance, then headed back to his weather station. I couldn't help feeling I'd disappointed him: I was too clenched to respond to his calm cheerfulness. Still, I was not so numb that I didn't feel a stir of excitement as we left the lark and the river behind. We followed a short trail through pine forest, then came to an open area of rock and gravel, just as Walton described.
A concealed doorway lurked behind a rock outcrop. PRESS PALM HERE was scratched onto the stone. I pressed, and the door opened.
An elevator lay beyond the door. Someone had painted UP and DOWN beside two buttons embedded in the wall. I pressed DOWN.
The elevator began to descend.
"We're here," I said to Oar.
"And there are many fucking Explorers here?"
"I promise they'll treat you kindly."
"They will not whisper about me? They will not look at me as if I am stupid?"
"Walton didn't, did he? And if any of the others do, I'll punch them in the nose."
I smiled, but Oar didn't smile back. It occurred to me I'd barely paid attention to her since we boarded the plane. I had spoken more to the plane than to Oar.
Moving to her, I took her arm and patted her hand. "It'll be all right… really."
"I am scared," she said in a small voice. "I feel strange in my stomach."
"Don't be afraid. Whatever happened between you and Jelca—"
She interrupted. "Will he want to give me his juices again?"
Ouch. "Do you want him to do that?" I asked.
"I am not such a one as needs Explorer juices!" she snapped. "I just do not want him to think I am stupid."
"No one thinks you're—"
"They left without telling me! All of them: Laminir Jelca, Ullis Naar, and my sister Eel. I woke one morning and they were gone. They took Eel with them, but not me."
I studied her for a moment. "You're angry at Eel?"
"She was my sister. She was my sister but she went with the fucking Explorers and left me alone."
"Oar…" I wrapped my arms around her. "You aren't alone now. You're with me. We're friends."
She hugged me, crying, her head on my shoulder. That was how we were standing when the elevator opened… and damned if I didn't try to pull away, for fear Jelca might see us like that.
Oar's grip was too strong for me to escape. Anyway, there was no one waiting on the other side of the door.
Reflections on the City
Beyond the door lay a city.
A city.
Oar's home had been a village; Tobit's a town. Here, in a cavern hollowed out of a mountain, there was space for thousands of buildings, perhaps millions of people.
All glass. All sterile. All empty and sad.
Listen. When you think of a glass city, do you imagine a crystal wonderland, bright-lit and glittering? Or perhaps something more mysterious, a glass labyrinth dreaming in permanent twilight? Then you don't understand the ponderous monotony of it all. No color. No life. No grass, no trees, no gardens. No friendly lizards basking in the plazas, or pigeons strutting across the squares. No smells of the marketplace. No playgrounds. No butterflies.