I vacillated between the urge to distance myself from Oar and the desire to keep her in close check. She was the only Melaquin native now in the city, apart from numerous towers of dormant ancestors. All other natives had left years earlier, peeved at some unspecified quarrel with the Explorers. ("You don't want to hear about that," scoffed a woman called Callisto.)
I asked about Chee and Seele. None of the other Explorers had been in the city that long ago, but they'd learned from the glass populace that two "uglies" had flown away in a glass bumblebee.
Lastly, I toured the orca ship. As Walton said, it was close to completion, especially if my lark-plane contained the parts they were looking for. "Then again," said Callisto, "it's been close to completion for the past twenty-eight years."
Or for the past four thousand years — the sticking point was what you required as an acceptable level of safety. No one doubted the ship could successfully take off; the only question was how far it would get. Out of the atmosphere? Certainly. But far enough into space to be rescued by a League vessel? That was the crucial point of debate.
How much food and air would you need to get to the nearest trade lanes? How much fuel would it take? No one knew. So the Explorers had passed their time tinkering: an enhancement here, an increased efficiency there, but no breakthrough so overwhelming that they could state with confidence, "Now we stand a good chance of making it."
Then came Jelca: resourceful, angry Jelca. Like other Explorers, he had received what Tobit called "the tip" — a hint he would soon be marooned on Melaquin and a suggestion of which continent he should choose for a Landing. Jelca hadn't wasted time in brooding or futile attempts at mutiny. Instead, he had taken direct action. While other Explorers reacted to the tip by packing more supplies or personal keepsakes, Jelca had stolen a Sperm-field generator.
Every ship carries two extra generators, in case of malfunction. They are not large as ship equipment goes — black boxes the size of coffins, each weighing two hundred kilos. With the aid of a robot hauler, Jelca smuggled a spare generator out of the engineering hold and into a planetary probe drone. Of course, he had to remove most of the drone's sensing equipment to make room for the generator; but he considered that an unimportant tradeoff. He barely finished the work in time; almost immediately, he and Ullis received orders to escort the bribe-taking admiral on an "investigative mission" to Melaquin.
From that point on, Jelca's theft was easy: he sent out the rigged probe as part of the preliminary survey; and he arranged that the probe landed softly in a spot he could find later. Some time after the Landing, when he had reached Oar's village and heard the looped message about the city in the mountains, Jelca reactivated the probe and flew it south by remote control. He and Ullis still had to travel to the city by foot, but when they got there, the stolen generator was waiting for them.
As easy as that. A Sperm-field generator meant FTL flight — it meant the difference between limping out of the system after five to ten years of relativistic travel, or getting home in two weeks. It was still an engineering challenge to mount the generator on the whale; but with so many Explorers in the city, they had ample brainpower to focus on the problem. They also had an AI here like the one I'd met in Tobit's town: a source of tools and components, even if the AI occasionally decided the Explorers had to manufacture particular pieces of equipment themselves.
Three years had passed since Jelca arrived with the generator; now the ship was ready. Some people talked as if it might take off tomorrow. Others contended the ship needed months of shakedown before departure. Within a few minutes, both camps were appealing to me as a disinterested party: someone who hadn't talked herself hoarse in the go-now-or-wait debates that had dominated every mealtime for a dozen weeks. Before I could say stop, I was barraged with measurements and test results, pages of figures and diagrams which both sides claimed would prove their point…
Then Ullis said, "She's a zoology specialist," and the debaters lost interest in me.
Ullis
Unlike Jelca, Ullis Naar had greeted me warmly when I arrived at the Explorers' mess. She hugged me; she recognized Oar immediately and hugged her too. Since Jelca looked like he wanted to run off and eat by himself, Ullis took me around to meet everyone. "This is Festina Ramos and yes, she's one of us even if she looks gorgeous."
(I had explained about the artificial skin. She said she was happy for me, and she meant it. Her own problem was still much in evidence: blink, blink, blink every second or so, some blinks so heavy they twitched all the way to her shoulders. I found myself feeling sorry for her… feeling pity. It was a patronizing, "Oh the poor dear" kind of pity, and it scared me. I'd never before felt condescension for another Explorer.)
Ullis was the one who described how Jelca had obtained the Sperm-field generator; Jelca stood by silently as she spoke, as if the story were about someone else. Later, when lights throughout the city dimmed to dusk, Ullis explained that the dimming was Jelca's work too. He wanted a true day/night cycle rather than the city's eternal glimmer, so he had tracked down the control center and rewired some circuits. Perhaps, I thought, that change had been the impetus which spurred the glass populace into leaving. People who photosynthesize may not take kindly to strangers turning the lights off.
The arrival of night didn't quiet the Explorers' mess. The others were eager for news from home, gossip about the Fleet, updates on the lives of friends they had once known… but at last Ullis said, "Enough. Festina needs sleep. We all do."
I agreed. With good-nights all around, Ullis and I detached ourselves from the company and went into the silent city. I might not have been so quick to go if Oar and Jelca had been there, but they had left much earlier — Oar bored with Explorer talk, and Jelca because Oar took his hand and pulled him away. I had not been able to read the expression on Jelca's face as he walked out with her: neither happy nor sad, neither fearing time alone with her nor looking forward to it. Whatever Oar wanted from him, I doubted she would get it.
Ullis led me away from the central square, a few blocks' walk to a tower where she had claimed an apartment on the sixtieth floor. The city was dark now — only a few distant lights showing where Explorers had staked territory in other buildings. The lights were widely spaced from each other: people who live in glass houses don't want close neighbors. On the other hand, solid glass walls give a breathtaking view from sixty storeys up.
Ullis came in beside me as I stood on her glassed — in balcony, looking out over the city. "So," she said. "Home sweet home." She paused. She blinked. "You're welcome to stay here if you like. Roommates again."
"I don't want to put you out."
"No trouble." She blinked, then laughed. "I may get sick of you eventually, but at the moment I'm nostalgic for Academy days."
"Isn't everyone."
She turned to look at me. Her shoulder leaned against the exterior glass; beyond her, the city was as black as space. "I'm sorry about Yarrun. I liked him."
"Me too."
She waited. I said nothing more.
Finally she said, "I'm also sorry about Jelca."
"What about Jelca?"
"That he's become such a prick. I know you used to like him."
"That was just a schoolgirl thing," I muttered.
"He liked you too," she said. "When he and I were partners on the Hyacinth, he talked about you. A bit. He never opened up, but I think he regretted… you know, not seeking you out. But he didn't understand why you ran from that second date, and he was too proud to chase after a freshman… Well, too proud, too shy, what's the difference? Testosterone, one way or the other. But he did think about you after."