Expendable

Part XVII CONFRONTATION

Ego

"Jelca," I said, "there are people on Melaquin. You'll kill them."

"I'll wait for the ship to take off," he replied.

"I don't mean Explorers!" I snapped. "You'll kill people like Oar!"

"They'll be all right," he answered with a vague wave of his hand. "Their homes are safe underwater and in caves."

"They don't all stay in their homes! They come out for walks on the beach — you know that. And I doubt their habitats are so self-contained they can withstand the whole planet losing atmosphere. When the air pressure drops far enough, the lakes will boil away; what happens to underwater cities then? And how do you know the caves are so airtight they won't leak? You don't know. You can't."

"All right," Jelca shrugged, "there may be problems. So what? This planet is dead, Festina; it may look viable, but it's not. There's no civilization here. There are no people. No one but glass zombies too stupid to know they're extinct. The ancestors do nothing… even creatures like Oar do nothing. They don't deserve to be called sentient. But Explorers are sentient, and it's time to stop treating them like rotten meat."

"Jelca," I said, "ask the other Explorers if their lives are worth genocide. You know they'd never accept it."

"They don't have to," he replied. "I accept it for them. I take the responsibility. If someone doesn't do this, you know what will happen? When we reach Technocracy space, the Fleet will load us all onto a ship and send us straight back to Melaquin. This is where they send their embarrassments, and we'll be the biggest embarrassment of all! For everyone's sake, I have to make sure Melaquin is no longer an option."

"You aren't doing this for everyone's sake," I told him. "It's only for your sake. The council was mean to you, and you want to hit them back. This is so unworthy of an Explorer, Jelca. Flamboyant gestures are for people who think life means beating the other guy. That's not life, that's ego. It's what you do when you're too scared or stupid to build a life on your own terms. Demanding revenge, Jelca… I'm ashamed of you. It's just so adolescent!"

"Adolescent?" he roared. "Adolescent!"

"Juvenile. Revenge always is." And that's when I hit him.

Fight or Flight

It was a simple punch, straight to the jaw — a sucker punch, and I had no qualms about using it. Now that I knew Jelca's plan, I was dangerous to him; he may already have decided I would have an "accident" and topple off the mountain. One shot of his stunner would take me out, so I couldn't give him a chance to draw.

The punch should have fazed him long enough to let me close for a few more strikes; but maybe I didn't put all my strength into it. Maybe some subconscious softness balked at knocking out Jelca's teeth… I don't know. I just know the impact didn't completely rattle him. Before I could follow up, his emergency programming kicked in: he dove, tucked, and rolled, exactly the way I did when taken by surprise.

Pity he couldn't have been trained with one of the other responses — freezing or backing off passively.

Before he stopped rolling, I was diving too: diving for the cover of the trees. I had no chance of crossing the ground between me and Jelca before he could draw his gun. My only chance was to get out of range, preferably with sturdy pine trunks at my back. Standard-issue stunners are only effective at close quarters, but with an amplified weapon like Jelca's, I wanted all the insurance I could get.

I reached the woods a split-second before he fired. My whole head buzzed for a second as if it were clamped in a vibrating vice; but momentum carried me forward, and I stayed on my feet for a few stumbling steps till the trees walled off the sound. Thank heaven they were pines — their needles rustled fiercely under the hypersonic barrage, absorbing the sound and muffling it. With each step my vision cleared, until I allowed myself to accelerate into a full run along the uneven trail.

"Festina!" Jelca yelled. "Come back. Let's talk."

What kind of idiot did he think I was? I didn't waste my breath answering. The trail had bends in it, but not many; there were long stretches where he would have a clear shot at me if I didn't stay far enough ahead. Silently, I cursed my lack of foresight for not bringing my own stunner… but I had never expected to need it. At worst, I thought Jelca might deny killing Eel; the idea that he might have a greater lunacy planned never crossed my mind.

You're too civilized, Ramos, I told myself. All that Explorer training, and you still aren't prepared to deal with non-sentients.

No. I just hadn't been prepared to accept that Jelca was non-sentient. He was a dangerous non-sentient, and now he was after me. His footsteps pounded the trail some distance behind. I didn't look over my shoulder — it would only slow me down, and Jelca's legs were longer than mine.

Could I hide? Take cover behind a tree and ambush him as he came by? Too risky: the tree trunks were no more than a hand wide, and here in the depths of the wood, their branches didn't reach low enough to offer concealment. The best tactic was to leave the trail, leave it now before Jelca came into sight. I might not have brought my stunner, but I sure as hell had my compass — I wouldn't get lost in the woods.

Jelca would get back to the elevator ahead of me, but that didn't matter. If he decided to wait there, blocking my way back to the city, I had more time than he did. When I didn't return, Ullis would organize a search party — after all, I had left her that note:

I think Jelca killed Eel. I'm going to talk to him about it. You keep an eye on Oar, and don't tell her a thing.

Ullis would come, I knew she would… and given the circumstances, she and the other Explorers would come armed.

I veered off on the first side trail I came to: a narrow track used by deer and bear. As soon as I was out of sight of the main trail, I stopped and crouched, keeping quiet. Jelca was a city boy — he wouldn't notice my tracks had turned. In a few seconds he thudded by, running hard and muttering inaudible words under his breath; I hoped they were curses. Then he was gone.

The sounds of the forest filled the silence: pine needles brushing each other, squirrels squawking as they foraged for winter supplies. When I felt the coast was clear, I moved forward, paralleling the trail but keeping a good distance off in case Jelca backtracked.

In time, the open area around the elevator entrance came into sight. I stopped at the edge of the woods, keeping low to stay hidden. Jelca could be lying in ambush, inside the entrance itself or behind the nearby rocks. Carefully I scanned each possible hiding place — no sign of him, but that only meant he'd concealed himself well. I found some cover of my own and settled down to wait. A search party would come.

Half an hour later, the hum of the elevator reached my ears. I smiled… and my smile grew wider at the thought of Jelca gritting his teeth in consternation. While I'd been waiting, I had silently collected a pile of stones suitable for throwing if Jelca showed his head. That would keep him busy while the search party got out of the elevator; after that, it would be over for him.

The elevator stopped. The door opened. Only one person emerged: Oar, carrying her silver axe.

"Laminir Jelca!" she shouted to the mountains. "Come out and let us see the color of your juices!"

"Okay," I sighed. "This would be the rescue party I didn't want to see."

Battle

Somehow Oar had learned what I wrote in my note. I had hoped she couldn't read English; but maybe she could. It didn't matter. Oar was here now with hate in her eyes… and that made her a prime target for Jelca if he was nearby.

He was. A trigger clicked; then came the soft whirr a stunner makes to tell you it's fired. The sonics made no sound themselves — they were too tightly focused on Oar to spill in my direction. Oar staggered and looked around wildly, unable to understand what had happened to her.

"Festina!" Jelca shouted. "Now would be a good time for you to surrender."

The way Jelca's voice echoed off the mountain made it hard to pinpoint his position, but I could narrow it down. He had to be hiding behind one of three rocks on the far side of the elevator entrance. Hugging half a dozen throwing stones to my chest, I worked my way through the forest, circling toward him.

Oar shook her head to clear it and raised her axe. "Where are you, fucking Explorer?"

The trigger clicked, the gun whirred. Oar shuddered but held her ground.

"Festina," Jelca called, "you know I can kill her. If you don't come out, her death is on your head."

I didn't answer. The fool was living some dream now — picturing himself as a desperado who could beat the world through sheer ruthlessness. What had happened to his Explorer training? I felt ashamed any ECM could blind himself with such romantic notions.

Oar jumped from where she was, hit the ground, and rolled up against a rock: an imitation of my own defensive move. The maneuver took her out of the immediate line of fire; I heard a clatter of scree as Jelca moved over the mountainside to draw another bead on her. This time I glimpsed his head for a split-second — not long enough to nail him with a stone, but now I knew where he was.

"This is ludicrous, Festina!" he shouted. "Are you going to let her die to save your own skin? Not very sentient of you." More rocks clattered under his feet. "You know," he continued, "she's the closest thing you've got to a partner now. You want to lose another partner, Festina?"

You are such a bastard, I thought. But I was an Explorer; he couldn't goad me into doing something rash. Anger is unprofessional.

The stunner whirred again. Oar groaned, then called, "It only tickles, fucking Explorer! You are stupid and boring and your gun is weak!"

Her voice sounded raspy. I pictured crystal fragments lying ragged in her throat as bits of broken glass splintered off her tissues. Other attacks might bounce off her hide, but the sonics were killing her. Was she dying already? I pressed forward as fast as I could; Jelca would soon be in my sights.

He was moving again — moving for a better shot at Oar, but also moving into clear view. It was a gamble on his part… but he must have thought I was still on the other side of the forest, back where the trail came out of the trees. The rocks gave him adequate cover in that direction; he might think he was safe.

I'd teach him otherwise.

Slowly I cocked my arm back, ready to hurl a stone into the side of his head. His concentration was centered on Oar; he wouldn't see it coming. But before I could throw, Oar surged to her feet yelling hoarsely and brandishing the axe. Jelca shied away, and lifted his stunner. I could imagine his finger tightening on the trigger… so I heaved the stone with all my strength, a shot aimed at his body rather than his head, because I couldn't afford to miss. Maybe Oar could withstand another blast and maybe she couldn't.

The stone hit him on the upper arm — not his gun hand, but I prayed it was enough to foul his aim. Without waiting to see, I sprinted forward, grabbing another rock from my arsenal and hurling it in Jelca's direction. He spun toward me, ready to fire… but the incoming stone made him duck and then Oar was screaming, racing at him with the axe. Jelca shot her again, pointblank range, then flinched as my next stone caught him on the shoulder. I had swung out wide, far enough that he would need to turn away from Oar to aim at me; and she was still standing, still holding the axe, even if the last shot had temporarily numbed her.

With a cry, Jelca fled toward the elevator. I held another rock ready in case he turned around, but he didn't. He ran straight to the hidden entrance; a moment later, the door whisked open, then closed. Still wary, I kept my grip on the stone in my hand as I approached Oar.

"Festina," she whispered, "I do not feel good."

She fell into my arms.

Damage Assessment

I dragged her to cover in case Jelca was being tricky; he might be waiting to leap out of the elevator and shoot us both. The safest place I could find was just inside the edge of the woods: far enough to be out of stunner range, but with a clear view of the elevator entrance if Jelca tried to sneak out.

Once we were safe, I examined Oar. She was bad. Fluid dribbled out of her ears, thin fluid with a smell like vinegar. Her breathing crackled each time she inhaled. After her collapse, she had wet herself; I mopped up as best I could with a handful of soft-rotted pine needles.

There were no wounds on the outside of her body — no chance for me to feel useful by applying bandages. I pulled the first aid kit from my belt pouch and looked for anything else that might be useful. Nothing. Antibiotics and disinfectants intended for a human metabolism, not hers.

And the scalpel, of course.

I wished I had brought my Bumbler — at least I could have used it to scan her on various wavelengths. As it was, her body was as clear as ever, internal damage invisible.

Oh well, I thought, this time I won't be tempted to operate.

Camping Out

Unable to help Oar, I turned to the problem of Jelca. With due caution, I approached the outcrop hiding the elevator entrance… and he was gone, back down to the city.

When I pressed my palm against the plate that opened the door, nothing happened. I tried it again. And again.

No luck.

Jelca must have shorted out the controls. He didn't want me chasing after him. More importantly, he didn't want Ullis or a rescue party coming up to find me and the truth.

I wasted several minutes smashing the door with rocks, then trying to pry it open with a stick. Even before I started, I knew the effort would prove futile. The door was thick metal, its frame embedded deep into the mountain itself. Nothing I could do would budge it.

Back in the woods, Oar was still unconscious, still breathing. The shadows under the trees had thickened; only the peaks of nearby mountains caught any sunlight. I would need a fire soon to drive off the chill… and perhaps firelight would be good for Oar too. The IR from the flames might be like giving her intravenous nutrients.

In case Jelca tried to bushwhack us during the night, I built the fire in front of the elevator entrance. If he tried to come out, we'd see him immediately. I had also leaned a pile of stones up against the door. If it started to move, the pile would topple down with enough noise to raise the alarm.

Once I had propped Oar in front of the fire, I warmed myself a bit, then set out for the lark-plane, only half a klick away. If it was still in one piece, I could fly Oar home — back to her own village, where I could lay her out in the Tower of Ancestors and let her absorb a full spectrum of energy. That was the only way I could think to help her; if she drank in enough strength, her body might repair itself. Even better, Oar's mother was there in the tower… dormant yes, but she might stir herself if she saw Oar was seriously injured. For all I knew, Oar's mother might tell me about some miraculous med-tech machine that could fix Oar in seconds.

When I got to the lark, I saw it was not going anywhere. Athelrod's crew had ripped out circuit boards, left wires dangling, even cut away part of one wing. The plane looked like the victim of vandals; and perhaps it was. I was beginning to think that the High Council's greatest crime was not committed against Explorers, but against the people of Melaquin. We were cultural pollutants, contaminating an otherwise pristine environment. Think of Tobit and his homebrew… think of the people who had been forced out of this city by Explorer activities… think of the glass lark in front of me, kept intact for four thousand years, but torn to useless junk as soon as it fell into Explorer hands.

And that was ignoring what Jelca intended to do.

Back at the campfire, I sat beside Oar as night drew in. My belt pouch still contained protein rations — the flavorless kind that supply your nutritional needs but give you constipation if you eat them more than two days in a row. I munched on a cube and wondered if I should try to feed Oar too… dissolve a chunk in river water, then feed it to her like gruel. Not yet; I wasn't sure rations intended for humans would sit well with her digestion. Besides, her voice had been so raspy before she passed out. I didn't want to make her swallow if her throat was filled with broken glass.

Hours trickled by. I kept the fire burning brightly. Once, as I gathered more wood, I came face-to-face with a deer buck displaying a majestic rack of antlers. He went on his regal way without paying me the least attention. Other animals occasionally appeared as beady eyes reflecting the firelight, but none came closer than that.

With nothing else to occupy my thoughts, I replayed my conversations with Jelca. What should I have said? What could I have done to change his mind? I had an immediate answer: I hadn't been able to reach him because I didn't look like myself. I didn't look like an Explorer. If I hadn't covered my birthmark, Jelca would have taken me more seriously. He may have softened, allowed himself to be drawn back to sanity. Instead of destroying the planet in a fit of pique, he might have considered the possibility of a future here… a future with me.

But no. I looked like an empty version of the woman he knew. Sanitized. Made cosmetically acceptable. That only added to his anger… maybe pushed him over the edge.

Listen. I knew I was being ridiculous: putting the blame on my face, as always. Ugly face, beautiful face, it was always in the wrong. Loudly and clearly, I told myself, "You've really got to work on self-esteem, Festina."

I stared into the fire a long time. It felt hot on my cheeks.

A Gray Morning

I slept three or four hours over the night. Nothing happened. Nobody came… not Jelca and not a search party. That bothered me. Ullis must know I was missing. Even if Jelca had sabotaged the elevator, all those non-zoology majors should have been able to repair it by now. Where were they?

Dawn arrived diffidently, easing itself into a chilly gray. Clouds had crept in overnight — a high overcast that misted the top of the tallest mountains. It would rain before the end of the day… either that or snow. I threw more wood on the fire and huddled against Oar for comfort.

Her comfort or mine. Both.

My watch read 10:05 when I first heard the distant whine. I snatched up a handful of throwing stones… but the sound did not come from the elevator. It was somewhere outside. Was the city opening its roof doors? Could the Explorers be launching the whale? I tried to imagine a way Jelca could trick the others into leaving without even looking for me. Nothing came to mind.

As I listened, I realized the sound was not coming from the mountain; it came from the sky.

"Don't I have enough trouble?" I groaned.

I debated moving Oar to safe cover, but she'd already been moved too much for a patient with internal injuries. Anyway, if something happened to me, I wanted her in plain sight where searchers could find her.

Better to leave well enough alone.

I stood. I waited.

A glass eagle set down on the rocks in front of me. It had missiles mounted under its belly.

The cockpit slid open and a man clambered out. "Saw your fire!" he shouted.

"Happy birthday, Phylar," I said.

Yet Another Reunion

He was no longer wearing his tightsuit. In fact, Tobit had stripped to his underwear, giving a more revealing view of his hairy torso than any woman could wish. The only piece he had retained from his uniform was the helmet, carried under his arm: his good arm. His other arm, the prosthetic one, now hung from a cord around his neck, its fingers gripping the rope like a chin-up bar. Oddly enough, the false arm's skin was several shades darker than the rest of Tobit's pale body. I wondered if the prosthetic surgeons had been careless in matching his complexion or if years of drunkenness had leached the color from the rest of his flesh.

"That was a shabby trick, Ramos," he complained. "Running out on me like that." With a look of wounded dignity, he grabbed the free end of his artificial arm and clapped it into the receptor housing that Fleet surgeons had hollowed into his shoulder. A few hearty thumps hammered the connector jacks into place. "You make me feel unloved," he said as he flexed the prosthetic fingers experimentally. "You have something against amputees?"

I signed with relief. He was only irritated, not angry. For all his faults, Tobit was a true Explorer — not like Jelca, overreacting to tiny slights.

"You were busy with your friends," I answered lightly. "It would have been rude to interrupt the party." I glanced at the eagle's cockpit. "You didn't bring anyone with you?"

"There was room for only one Morlock, and I didn't want to pick favorites." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand: his artificial one, which now seemed fully functional. "To tell the truth, they were such pathetic sots I didn't have a favorite. Except you, of course, Ramos." He threw a smacking kiss in my direction. "You're looking good."

"If one more person says that to me, I'll rip the damned skin off."

"Don't rip off your cheek to spite your face." He gestured toward Oar. "What's wrong with your friend?"

"Jelca shot her."

Tobit's eyebrows raised.

"It's a long story," I said, "and I don't have time to tell it. Do those missiles of yours work?"

"Yes. No thanks to you." He looked at me warily. "Are you thinking of blasting Jelca?"

"No. I'm thinking of blasting a door."

The Blast Radius

Neither Tobit nor I could guess how much damage the missile might do. We didn't even know what payload it contained. Chemical? Nuclear? Matter-antimatter disintegration? "Phylar," I said, "before you mount weapons on a plane, shouldn't you find out how much bang they have? It might help to know whether you should keep back a hundred meters from your target or a hundred kilometers."

Tobit scowled. "I never intended to use the bombs, Ramos; I just wanted them there for completeness."

"Completeness," I repeated.

"I liked the look of them; besides, flying an eagle is so damned gauche, I needed something to make me look less precious. As soon as I figured out how to command the AI, I had the missiles reactivated and put back."

"So you armed the plane as a fashion statement?"

"Stop bitching, Ramos. You're the one who wants to blow up a mountain."

Difficult though it was, we loaded Oar into the eagle with us, sitting her up on my lap like a limp heap of laundry. She wouldn't be safe on the ground; there was no way to gauge the blast radius. Anyway, if the missile was nuclear or worse, she'd have to be dozens of klicks away to avoid damage, and we couldn't carry her that far on foot. Better to have her with us, and simply order the plane to remove itself an adequate distance from the explosion.

Before boarding the plane, Tobit got a fistful of dirt and smeared a huge brown X on the outcrop that hid the elevator door. The mark would be easy to see at a distance of at least five kilometers. Hitting the mark was another matter — we had no idea what guidance mechanisms the missiles had. Since the eagle possessed no controls, all we could do was say, "Shoot that," and let the plane do all the aiming.

Oar and I perched in the right-hand seat, strapped down as best I could manage. Tobit climbed in beside us and stuffed his head into his tightsuit helmet. "Why are you wearing that?" I asked.

"So I don't get blinded by the sun," he replied.

I looked dubious. The helmet's visor was clear, evidence that the overcast sky was no danger to anyone's eyes. If there had been any excess brightness, the visor would have automatically tinted itself.

"We don't have any sun today," I told him.

"There might be a break in the clouds. Or," he muttered in a lower voice, "there might be a nuclear fireball of apocalyptic proportions."

"Oh," I said. "I better close my eyes."

"Nah," he answered with an airy wave. "Just hide behind your girlfriend. She'll soak up the rads better than forty meters of lead." Then before I could respond, he told the plane, "Up. Let's get this show on the road."

Boom

The eagle rose straight up on its wing-jets, a smooth vertical liftoff. "Keep track of that X mark," Tobit said to the plane, "that's our target. Fly to a safe range, then blast it."

The plane banked away neatly, then angled into a steep climb on a straight line course away from target. Acceleration squashed me lightly between Oar and the back of my chair, but not painfully so. A small distance short of the cloud ceiling, the eagle leveled off and continued on the same heading, cruising comfortably short of Mach 1.

"Can you still see the X?" Tobit asked.

I turned around. The entrance was now far behind us. In the overcast light, I could make out the rocky area where we'd fought Jelca, but not the X itself. "The plane must see better than we do," I told Tobit. "Telescopic sights or something."

"Bet you also believe admirals are your friends," he muttered.

I opened my mouth for a retort… but at that moment, the plane rolled sideways, wing over 180 degrees, and we were abruptly dangling upside-down in our safety straps, our heads pointing at the ground. A moment later, the eagle's beak pushed itself sharply upward: up and around in a buttonhook maneuver that ended with us right — way up again and now pointing toward the target.

"Cute," Tobit said with a quaver in his voice, "but it should give us warning when it's going to—"

The plane shuddered as a missile launched.

I thought the eagle had been flying at good speed. No — the eagle was virtually standing still compared to the missile. It cracked the sound barrier as it lanced out, riding a plume of smoke that pointed straight toward the target. For a second, all we could see was the smoke, not the missile itself…

"Shield your eyes!" Tobit yelled, and I closed them fast, ducking behind Oar's lolling head in case that really offered some protection.

The flash was still visible through my eyelids.

Into the City

When I opened my eyes, there was a smoking hole in the mountain. Not a crater — a hole straight into the city, with glass buildings visible below. The blast site was circular, a hundred meters in diameter and remarkably well-contained. That pleased me; I preferred not to kill too much wildlife if I could help it.

"Eagle," Tobit said to the plane, "see that nice hole? That's where we're landing."

I stared at him. "You're taking the jet into a glass city?"

"The hole's big enough," he answered. "And I suspect the elevator's not working at the moment."

The elevator was not even visible — the whole mechanism was simply gone, unless it was part of the surprised cloud of smoke that drifted in shock around the site. The automatic repair systems would clock a lot of overtime in the next few weeks.

"All right," I told Tobit, "into the hole, then head for the center of the city. Just watch out for the killer whale."

"The what!"

"Your ride home," I answered. Then I tried to explain what was happening.

Not Dead Yet

After slipping and weaving around the skyscrapers, we touched down in the main square, not far from the whale itself. The noise of our engines should have brought Explorers flocking around; but only a handful ventured away from the whale to greet us.

One was Ullis. She stared at me for a moment, then smiled wearily. "I never believed you were dead."

"Who said I was dead? Jelca?"

Ullis nodded. "He's gone crazy. He used loudspeakers to send an announcement all over the city. You had attacked without provocation and he'd been forced to kill you." She looked at me stonily for a moment. "Why would he say that when it wasn't true?"

"To stop you sending out a search party," I replied. "I know something he wants to keep secret."

"I still tried to find you," Ullis said, "but I couldn't get outside — Jelca's locked off the elevator."

"Don't worry," Tobit assured her. "The elevator isn't locked any more." Under his breath he added, "It's hard to lock anything that's been reduced to slag…"

"Where's Jelca now?" I asked.

"No one knows," Ullis replied. "And I haven't told you the worst part. He's rigged the whale. It's going to take off within the hour."

Responsibility

I gulped in surprise. "The ship is taking off?"

"It went into its launch cycle last night," Ullis said. "Things have been frantic since then."

"But surely someone can stop it."

"Jelca must have planned this a long time ago," Ullis replied. "He planted secret activation devices in almost every system on the ship. Disconnecting them safely will take more time than we have; and it would be disastrous if some systems fired while others didn't. We can always rip out wires till nothing on the whale works, but it would take so long to repair things afterward…" She shrugged. "Besides, half the Explorers don't want to stop the countdown. They say we're ready to go; they're glad Jelca stopped any further delays."

"So," I said, "you intended to fly off without worrying what Jelca was up to?"

"Some people have waited thirty years for this day, Festina. This is their only chance to get home. Besides," Ullis lowered her eyes, "I volunteered to stay behind. To find you and to deal with Jelca." She took a deep breath. "He is my partner."

"Was your partner," I told her. "And I'm the one who has to stay behind. I can't leave this planet, Ullis. It's too complicated to explain, but believe me, I can't go. I'll take care of things."

"You may need help—" Ullis began.

"No," I interrupted. "I don't want you. And don't you have useful things to do on the ship?"

She blinked. And blinked. "Some of the communication software is in rough shape." Her voice was a mumble, filled with guilt.

"You have to go." I laid my hand gently on her arm. "And I have to stay."

"Jelca's my responsibility…"

"He's mine now," I said. "You have duties on the ship. Go. Please."

She blinked again, twice, then kissed me and walked off slowly. The other Explorers followed on her heels.

First Things First

"That was fucking maudlin," Tobit announced in a loud voice.

"What are you still doing here, Phylar?"

"Keeping you company, Ramos. When you're all by yourself, you brood."

"Go with the others," I told him. "There's space for you on the ship — you can have the cabin I equipped for myself. Or take Jelca's cabin… he won't need it."

"First things first," Tobit replied. "They won't launch for a while, and there's no way I can contribute. On the other hand, I can help you carry this little lady to get recharged with her ancestors. That's what you want to do, isn't it?"

I patted his hairy shoulder. "Thank you, Phylar. You're a tribute to the Corps."

He belched deliberately. "A fucking humanitarian — that's me."

We found a cot in a nearby blockhouse and carried Oar up the central boulevard. The city surely had more than one tower where ancestors could rest their tired brains; but I aimed for the tower containing the Sperm generator. The odds were good Jelca was holed up there, waiting for the whale to take off. Once it was gone…

I couldn't guess whether he would activate the generator as soon as the Explorers left, or put it on a delay circuit so he had time to take shelter elsewhere. Was he suicidal or not? If he turned on the generator immediately, he would die — either sucked directly into space or pulped by the windstorm that would result when air started spewing into the vacuum. But maybe Jelca didn't mind dying, as long as he got his "revenge"; and the sooner he put his plan into effect, the less time I had to stop him. He knew I was alive. Considering the monstrous explosion when Tobit and I blasted our way in, he might guess I'd gotten past the unworking elevator.

Then again, the walls of the tower were opaque; and for all the explosion's destructive power, it hadn't made much noise…

Maybe he didn't know I was coming. Maybe. But I couldn't take that chance. I had to assume he might activate the generator as soon as the ship was clear of the roof doors. That gave me less than an hour to stop him.

Sateen

I told Tobit to wait with Oar outside the tower. "Afraid of booby traps?" he asked.

"Yes." I stepped inside the building. Nothing went boom. On the other hand, Jelca's radiation suit wasn't in its hiding place. He had to be wearing it, and watching over his doomsday machine on the top floor.

"All clear," I told Tobit as I came back out. "We'll run Oar inside, then you hightail it back to the ship."

"What are you going to do?"

"Jelca's on the top floor. I'm going to pay him a visit."

"Dressed like that?" He snorted in disbelief. "You know how many rads these damned towers produce? It's one thing to duck in for a second then duck out again — that's no worse than having a few X-rays taken. But if you mosey in, ride the elevator, and spend a few minutes handing Jelca his ass… you won't have a working blood cell left in your body, Ramos. Hell, by the time you get to Jelca, you may not be able to stay on your feet. The only consolation is that the radiation burns will keep your mind off the radiation sickness."

"Wait here," I told him; and I ran into Jelca's home next door. Moments later I ran out again, my arms full of the shimmering shirts and pants I'd seen tossed around Jelca's room. "Radiation gear," I announced, throwing a bundle at him. "Suit up."

Shirt, pants, socks, and gloves. It would have been nice to find a balaclava for head covering, but there was nothing like that. As a substitute, I started wrapping a shirt around my face; but Tobit pulled it away and handed me his helmet. "Happy birthday," he said.

"This is the second birthday present you've given me."

"And I'm keeping count," he replied. "You're going to owe me big, Ramos." He tossed a wad of cloth haphazardly over his own face, proclaimed, "I can't see shit," then stumped back to where Oar lay.

He looked ridiculous-dressed in silver tinsel, the shirt so tight over his belly I could see the indentation of his navel as his gut strained against the fabric. When I put on his helmet, it smelled of rotgut and vomit, almost strong enough to turn my stomach… yet I said to him, "You're a gentleman and Explorer, Phylar."

"Don't turn mushy on me, Ramos." He picked up his end of Oar's cot. "Let's move."

Obstacles

We placed Oar in the center of the first room — right where she'd get the most light. Her body relaxed as the radiation began pouring into her… as if the warmth had already started to ease her pain. Still, she showed no signs of consciousness, and I could hear the ugly crackling in her lungs each time she took a breath. Gently I arranged her body, flat on her back with arms outspread, like a flower open to the sun; then I laid her axe beside her, just as ancient warriors would lie in their tombs with weapons close at hand.

"It's not a fucking burial!" Tobit groaned. "Stop wasting time."

"If you're in a hurry to get back to the ship, feel free to go."

"I'm in a hurry to make sure you can do what you have to," he replied. "In case it hasn't crossed your mind, getting to the top of this tower might not be easy."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's go to the elevator."

He marched toward the center of the building, with me close on his heels. When we reached the elevator, he pressed the call button.

Nothing happened.

"Oops," I said.

"The bastard already proved he can sabotage these things," Tobit pointed out, "although this time, he's likely just locked it off at the top."

"Maybe there are stairs," I suggested.

"Ramps," Tobit replied. "There were ramps in the tower at Morlock-town. The whole building has to be serviceable by robots… and that means the bots need a way to the top in case the elevator itself breaks down." Tobit's cloth-covered head swiveled around; I could imagine him peering through the cloth, straining to see. "That door," he said pointing. "That should go to the ramps. All these towers are likely built on the same design."

I went to the door. The latch moved when I pressed it, but the door wouldn't open.

"Stuck?" Tobit asked.

I stepped back and drove a side kick into the door — not hard enough to endanger my foot, but with plenty of strength to loosen any stickiness from a poorly fitted doorframe.

The metal door boomed from the impact, but did not budge.

"That Jelca boy thinks ahead," Tobit muttered. "He's starting to piss me off."

The Muse of Fire

Tobit and I spent a futile thirty seconds bruising our shoulders as we attempted to break down the door; but it was metal, solid and unyielding — far too strong for us to make more than an ineffectual dent. As we stepped back panting, I said, "Perhaps we should break into the elevator instead."

"And what if we did?" Tobit asked. "You think you can climb eighty storeys, hand-over-hand on the cables?"

"Maybe."

I couldn't see his face under the silvery fabric, but I could feel skepticism radiating toward me.

"All right," I said, "why don't I smash down this door with Oar's axe?"

"You'd break your wrists," he replied. "And there's an easier approach to try first."

He walked into the next room, planted his feet firmly in the midst of the motionless ancestors, and cleared his throat. The next sounds to emerge from his mouth were a mishmash of syllables, some falsetto, others bass, some so liquid they dripped with saliva, others harsh like a man choking. The tone was strong but not forced — commanding and confident. When he finally paused, I could hear rustling from every corner of the room. Closed eyes blinked. Fingers twitched.

"You speak their language?" I whispered in amazement.

"I've been Grand Poobah to the Morlocks for eight years, Ramos. You think I let the glass glow under my feet?" He turned back to the ancestors and spoke again, his arms spread wide, his diction clear.

In one corner of the room, a glass arm moved. Closer to hand, a glass head lifted, blinked and stared.

Someone sighed. Someone else took a deep purposeful breath.

"I thought their brains were mush," I whispered.

"Just bored," Tobit replied. "You can catch their attention if you give them something they've never heard before."

"So what are you saying?"

"What I remember from Henry V — some asshole of an admiral forced every academy instructor to teach a Shakespeare course. Now I'm telling the glassies, 'Once more unto the breach,' and all that crap. Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, break down the door." He paused. "I don't know how the fuck I'm going to translate 'Saint Crispin's day.' "

But he rose to the challenge. Tobit orated, and his audience answered. I can't imagine the ancestors understood much of what he said — even if Tobit spoke their language, these people wouldn't know what to make of a "muse of fire" or "Harry, England and Saint George!" Nor did I think Tobit could stir their souls with Shakespearean poetry… not translating off the cuff and from memory. More than anything, he was getting through to them on the strength of sheer novelty: they had never heard a man in silver lame harangue them to attack France, and it was bringing them to their feet.

Mouths twisted into smiles. After centuries of dormancy, something had changed — changed for all of them. Even those who had been slow to rouse themselves were sitting up with interest, their eyes glittering.

Hands clenched into fists. Spines straightened proudly. Tobit pointed at the locked door.

Ten seconds later, the door was no longer an obstacle.

My Present

"I can take it from here!" I shouted to Tobit. My ears still rang from the thunder of glass shoulders, strong as rhinos, smashing the metal door down.

"You're sure?" Tobit asked.

"Get back to the ship before it blasts off."

"What if you need more help?"

"Don't be stubborn, Phylar. I'm giving you a ticket home… as a birthday present."

"Ooo — look who thinks she's learned to manipulate people." He snapped me a backward parody of a salute. "Get going yourself, Ramos. Do something non-sentient to Jelca before he does it to you."

He turned and lumbered away. I watched for a moment, then saluted his back. Call it another birthday present.

In the Stairwell

I had eighty storeys of ramps ahead of me. No matter how pressed for time I might be, running was out of the question; I settled for a light jog and wondered how long I'd be able to keep it up.

Far above, the tower ramps clattered with the clack of glass footfalls. Tobit's speech had inspired the ancestors so much, they hadn't stopped after breaking down the door — they were still charging ahead, howling to spill French blood at Agincourt or whatever they thought they were doing. I didn't try to keep up with them; not only were they stronger and faster than my mere flesh, they were less worried about running out of wind. The stairwell burned with the same radiation as the main tower rooms. Even as they raced along the ramps, the ancestors were recharging, keeping themselves powered.

There was another reason I didn't try to catch up with the ancestors: I needed time to decide how to handle Jelca. First, grab his stunner — that was obvious. And I had one strong advantage over him: I could see clearly through the tinted visor of Tobit's helmet. Jelca, on the other hand, would be half-blind with the radiation suit covering his eyes… like looking through glittery cotton cloth. In a straight fistfight, the odds were stacked in my favor.

As long as he didn't shoot me first. One sonic blast, and I'd be unconscious for six hours… or until Jelca killed me, whichever came first.

How could I avoid getting shot? Stealth if possible. If I could sneak up and take him down fast, I had nothing to worry about; but if he saw me first…

"Idiot," I said aloud. "Why didn't you pick up your own stunner?" Yet the prospect of using the same weapon as Jelca filled me with revulsion. I knew I was being irresponsible — considering the stakes, I should have been ruthlessly willing to shoot Jelca in the back if that's what it took. But some subconscious inhibition had stopped me from thinking about my own stunner until now — and I had no time left to go back for the gun.

Was there anything else I could use as a weapon? I took a mental inventory of my belt pouches, now tucked under the radiation shirt and pants. What was I carrying? Things for taking soil samples, a small disk camera, my first aid kit…

…which contained the scalpel…

I laughed out loud. There in the stairwell, I leaned against the wall and laughed. Unable to stop giggling, I untucked my lame shirt tail, opened a pouch, and pulled out the knife.

The scalpel.

"Fair's fair," I said to the walls. "Fair's fair."

I didn't know what I meant by that.

To give the blade some weight, I taped some mineral sample tubes to its handle. The tubes were only the size of my fingers, but they were lead-lined in case they had to hold radioactive materials. When I was finished, the knife was well-balanced and heavy, suitable for stabbing or throwing. I found myself tempted to hold it up and say, "Yarrun, I owe you this." But I didn't do it. There comes a time when we outgrow dramatic gestures.

At the Top of the Ramp

Halfway up the tower, I passed the first glass body: an ancestor with no sign of injury. There were two more another floor up. I stopped briefly to examine them. They muttered something and turned their backs on me.

"Tired of going up ramps?" I asked. "You and me both."

Their initial enthusiasm had eroded. Who wouldn't get bored, racing up storey after storey, with no change of scenery? The closer I got to the top, the more bodies I found… until on the eightieth floor, I came to the last ancestor, lying in the open doorway that led out of the stairwell. He must have disciplined himself to stay with the task, all the way hoping to find some stirring amusement at the end of the trip. When he reached the finish, only to find a room exactly like the ones downstairs, he had sunk to his knees in disappointment.

Welcome to the Explorer Corps, I thought.

I didn't charge out onto the floor. Jelca might have heard the door open; even now he might be lying in ambush, ready to blast me into unconsciousness. I waited, listening. I listened for five whole minutes by my watch, and might have waited longer if I hadn't heard something.

A rumble.

A roar.

A vibration under my feet.

The whale was taking off.

The Launch

It would have been a sight to see: the roof doors opening and the glass orca soaring out on plumes of smoke and flame. With luck, Tobit had made it back in time. I breathed a prayer for those aboard, then moved cautiously out of the stairwell. There would never be a better time to sneak up on Jelca, with the sound of blast-off loud enough to cover my approach.

Scalpel in hand, I stole forward.

The building's glass rattled as the launch continued. The ancestor lying in the stairwell lifted his head with one last show of interest… then pouted and lay down again.

Three rooms between me and Jelca.

Room 1: the roar outside increased, moving upward. I could swear the ship was sliding straight past the building, scorching the tower's exterior with belches of fire.

Room 2: with a roar, the sound of engines swept past the building, up, high up, heading for the roof, as echoes banged off every building in the city.

Room 3: the noise suddenly eased, and I knew the ship had cleared the roof doors, out into open sky where its sound could spread through the mountains. The echoes were still loud enough to cover my soft approach to the last room, if only Jelca was looking in some other direction.

But he was looking straight at the door. His pistol pointed straight at the door too.

"Don't move a hair," he said with theatrical calm. "I can pull the trigger faster than you can move out of the way."

I knew he was right.

The Laying of Blame

"So who are you?" he asked conversationally. "Ullis? Callisto?"

His question confused me. Then I realized my helmet had opaqued itself enough that Jelca couldn't see my face.

"It's me," I said. "Festina."

He inhaled sharply under his radiation mask. "Festina? Of course." He gestured with the pistol toward my hand. "I should have recognized you by the scalpel. Still your weapon of choice?"

Ouch. "You really are a shit, aren't you?"

"Thanks to you," he answered. "You backed me into a corner. If you hadn't left me with no other options…"

"Spare me the excuses."

"But you're the one to blame," he insisted. "You forced me to shoot Oar when you knew it would kill her. You made it impossible for me to be an Explorer… So now I'm something else."

"A dangerous non-sentient," I said.

"Exactly. And if I'm going to be damned forever, the least I can do is live up to the title."

I sighed. "You're quoting some bubble, aren't you? And a bad one at that. Since you can't impress me as a human being, you try it as a villain. That's pathetic."

"I'm not trying to impress—"

"You are!" I shouted… not because my words could affect him but because I'd heard a sound behind me. "If you weren't trying to impress me, you would have shot the second you saw me. But you want to gloat. You want to justify yourself. Or you want to act out some bubble you've seen where the villain acts menacing to pretend he's more than a pissy little schoolboy. Honestly, Jelca… destroying a world because nobody likes you!"

"You liked me once," he retorted. "You adored me. And you weren't the only one. Eel adored me. Oar adored me…"

"I did not!" shouted a voice behind me. The next moment, an axe whizzed past my head.

Battle Rejoined

The axe was not balanced for throwing. It flew fast enough to take Jelca by surprise, but only struck his arm with its handle as it passed by. It glanced off the wall behind him and clattered to the floor.

Jelca raised his pistol.

Unlike the axe, my carefully prepared scalpel flew with perfect precision. I threw it with a simple flick of the wrist, in the instant before I dove out of the doorway. It slashed into Jelca's fingers where they wrapped around the butt of his stunner. He screamed. The stunner fell.

"Hah!" The laugh rang through the room. Oar leapt past me, heading for Jelca. "You killed my sister, fucking Explorer! You tried to kill me. Now we will see who is such a thing as can die."

She moved sluggishly, and there were smears of dried fluid tracked down her chin. Even so, she had been strong enough to wake from her coma, clearheaded enough to figure out what had happened, and stubborn enough to climb eighty storeys in search of vengeance.

Now she plunged toward Jelca, her hands reaching for his throat. The attack was awkward, off-balance; her dizziness showed. Jelca dodged, deflecting her rush to one side. He took one quick glance in the direction of his stunner, but it was too far away. Instead, he turned the other direction: toward the Sperm generator.

"No!" I cried. The maniac intended to turn it on. If it activated now, a Sperm-tail thousands of klicks long would establish itself in a single second — a tail waving out of control, lashing up out of the atmosphere and into space. The generator itself was bolted down securely, but those of us in the room weren't. All three of us would make a very short cold trip into hard vacuum.

With nothing else close to hand, I whipped off my helmet and heaved it across the room, catching him hard in the back of the head. The blow struck with a resounding crack. He pitched forward, sprawling onto the black coffin of the generator… but his hand was still moving, searching for the activation switch.

"Stop him!" I yelled. "That machine will kill everyone!"

Oar lashed out a foot and kicked Jelca in the side — not a skilled kick, but strong enough to lift him and flip him back half a meter. He dropped onto the coffin again, this time spreadeagled on his back. I couldn't tell if he'd fallen closer or farther from the generator's switch; but he was still conscious, still moving, still reaching out to turn on the machine.

With no time to get to my feet, I slithered across the floor, straight toward the stunner. My eyes were on Jelca; his hand fumbled with something on the far side of the generator… probably the switch.

I grabbed the gun and fired fast without aiming — even if I didn't hit him full on, the edge of the sonic cone might stagger him. But I hadn't appreciated the power of the amplified pistol. Hypersonics smashed against the glass wall over Jelca's head and shattered it to crystal rain, exploding it outward in a shower that left a gaping hole in the tower.

Air whistled outside as glass shards pattered onto Jelca's radiation suit. He could ignore the shards; what he couldn't ignore was the clumsily wielded axe coming at him.

Oar tried to chop Jelca like she would chop a tree — a hard blow straight down toward his chest. If she had been at full strength, he never would have blocked the blow; but she was weak now and bleary. He caught the axe and stopped it, both arms extended as he seized the axe handle at the base of its head.

For a moment, they both were frozen there: Jelca fending off the axe, Oar trying to force it down onto his sternum. Then Oar whispered, "Fucking Explorer. This is what expendable means."

She let go of the axe, grabbed his arms, and jumped with him, straight out the hole in the wall.