Mur inspected the woman. She must have been aged around forty. The spear was well crafted, but it was just a spear — nothing more sophisticated than a sharpened stick of wood, nothing the Human Beings couldn't have manufactured for themselves. The woman wore a crude, pocketed poncho of what looked like pig-leather, and a wide-brimmed hat. Folds of cloth were tied up around the rim of the hat. The woman was well muscled but scrawny; her face was wide and flat, disfigured by a scowl. "Well?" she demanded. "Deaf, are you?"

Mur sighed, disappointment gathering in him. He turned to Philas. "Obviously, these aren't Colonists."

"Who are they, then?"

"How should I know?" he snapped back, irritated.

He moved forward a little, with arms spread wide, hands empty. "My name is Mur. This is Philas. We're — refugees." He decided not to mention the rest of the Human Beings. "We lost all we possessed in the Glitch. We're trying to get to Parz City. Do you know it?"

The woman's eyes narrowed; she didn't reply. She raised the spear uncertainly and poked it toward Mur's stomach again, substituting aggressiveness for an answer.

"We're wasting our time," Mur whispered to Philas. But Philas had broken away from him and was Waving down with irregular, trembling strokes of her thin legs toward the strangers.

"You have an Interface," she said.

The man, similarly grimy and scowling, a little younger than the woman, joined his companion. He too was wearing a battered, wide-brimmed hat. They stared at the Human Beings as suspiciously, thought Mur, as a pair of tethered Air-pigs.

"Please," Philas said. "We've come a long way. We're trying to reach the Pole. Can we..." She stumbled over her words, as if she'd become suddenly aware of how foolish they sounded. "Will your Interface help us?" She looked from one to the other. "Do you understand what I'm asking?"

The man opened a mouth devoid of teeth and laughed, but the woman laid a restraining hand on his arm. Her voice remained stern, but it softened a little. "Yes, I understand. And you're right; it is an Interface — from the olden days, from before the Core Wars. But you can't use it."

Philas was trembling. "We'll pay," she said wildly. "You must..."

Mur grabbed her shoulders and tried to still her shivering with his own inertia. "Stop it, Philas. Don't you understand? Even if we could pay, the Interface doesn't work any more. These people are as helpless as we are."

Philas stared into his face resentfully, then turned away; her body was wracked by shuddering.

The man and woman watched them curiously.

Mur turned to them wearily. "Why don't you put away your weapons? You can see we're no threat to you."

They lowered their spears carefully, but kept them aimed roughly in the direction of the Human Beings. The man said, "You really are refugees from further upflux?"