"After an ethanol party?" I asked curiously. "Six dancers out of a production that used a hundred? Your city will never miss them."
"But their families will."
Families! I hadn't thought of that. Mammals had strong family ties—probably due to their method of reproduction. We Thalassans, coming as we did from eggs, had none of this. The state incubators and the creches were our only contact with parenthood. We had no families. "Hmm," I said. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Well, you'd better start. I hope it gives you a headache."
"You get nastier every time I talk with you," I complained.
"I have my reasons," he said bitterly. "Now, if you're through with me, little master, I think I'd like to get some sleep. In the meantime you'd better get them back to their homes before they're missed."
"I can't," I confessed. "The controller isn't big enough to handle eight of you—not as individuals."
Donald chuckled grimly. "That's your worry. Remember, unless you find out which of them will be missed and act accordingly, you're going to be very much in the public eye."
I didn't feel too happy as I cut off, but Donald had given me an idea.