Expendable - James Alan Gardner [100]
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