An Earth First cop talked while Glen smiled and nodded.
Sherrine strolled up; but what would she say? How do you talk about hydrogen? The ashes are water vapor, utterly pollution free, and what else is there? Now Glen was talking again. "So, Michael. You were on your way from Las Vegas to L.A. for a, what, a demonstration?"
"Yeah, outside the premiere," the tall boy said. "Anyone wearing fur, she'll at least know what we think of her! The rest of us went on in the other car, but Barb and I thought we'd better report what we saw Jeez, you can smell it, the filth they're putting in the air--"
"Kid," said the male Earth First cop, "have you noticed it's getting chilly lately?"
"Sure, the Ice is coming." The boy named Michael looked elaborately around him at the heat of the desert. "Okay, I've seen them on TV, the glaciers, but they don't affect the principle, they don't affect the blood spilled. Wearing fur was murder when the goddam scientists were still whimpering about global warming, and it's still murder today!"
"I don't question that, but it seems to me," Glen said to the speaker, "that all of your targets are women. Isn't that sexist? I mean, men wear fur, too, not often, but--"
An Earth First policewoman said, "He has a point, kid. Sexism is politically incorrect, too. I think you need to target an equal number of fur-wearing males."
Now Barb was glaring at Michael. The boy said, "Uh…"
"And why just fur?" said Glen. "Leather is the skin of a dead animal, too!"
Earth First glanced down at their boots. So did both of the kids. Sherrine hadn't had to say anything at all. Glen let them argue--fur versus leather, wild free beasts versus beasts held prisoner until their deaths, hide and meat versus fur alone. The teens' respect for uniforms was fading. The cops were getting angry.
Glen said, "What we could do is, we should station teams outside biker bars and throw dye on leather-clad men as they come out."
The jet motor roared in a sudden silence.
"That would be more correct," the girl called Barb bellowed. "We'd include men as well as women. And it would show that we care as deeply about homely cows and other leather-producing animals as we care about cute, furry rabbits and minks."
Michael said, "Barb--"
Oh, that would be fun, Sherrine thought. Glen was right: the attacks on fur-bearing upper-class women were sexist. Let's see what leather-clad bikers do when Michael and Barb spit on their jackets. Sherrine was trying to swallow a grin… and Earth First turned to face Hudson and Hartwell with evident relief.
Nobody seemed to be under arrest. Just a shouting match. Lee Arteria still didn't see that her presence could swing events one way or another.
She watched the Earth First cops begin a search. Hudson would have his papers in order, of course assuming the cops even recognized the spacecraft. Presently they drifted back. Still the desert roared and black smoke drifted, and still there were no arrests.
Now the cops got back into their van; the teens argued, then got in, too. The van drove off. Minutes later, the Green car followed.
How the hell did they work that?
And where did it leave Captain Lee Arteria?
Sanity check: they were still liquefying hydrogen and oxygen. They had come to see Phoenix … possibly they'd had contingency plans, but they'd come to see Phoenix first, and what they saw must have looked like a working spacecraft. Crazy amateurs… but they had Gary Hudson to tell them whether Phoenix was in any way crippled, and they'd judged Hudson sane.
They were planning to launch.
They were still gathering. The grandest gathering of pro-technology buffs ever to pour jet-engine roar and hot kerosene exhaust into clean desert air was still gathering. Fuel and oxydizer, the stranded dipper pilots as passengers, maybe Hudson himself as pilot… what else did they need? Cargo? That's what the fans were up to, all that weird stuff!Cargo for the space habitats! There had been a lot of stuff, boxes, paper bags, at least one cooler. Course programming: they must have that solved. Copies of the programs stored away. So. What else would they need to launch?
Lee Arteria smiled. Yes!
BILLINGS, TELL COLONEL MURPHY THAT WE'RE ABOUT
TO MAKE THE MOST IMPORTANT ARREST OF THE DECADE.
BOTH SPACEMEN PLUS THE WHOLE NETWORK THAT SMUGGLED THEM ACROSS THE COUNTRY. USAF AND OSI WILL GET EVERY BIT OF THE CREDIT.
TELL HIM TO HANG ON FOR THREE MORE DAYS AND WE'RE SET. THIS WILL GET HIM A BRIGADIER'S STARS. NOT TO MENTION PROMOTIONS FOR YOU AND ME.
ARTERIA
They only turned on the lights in the hangar when they had to, and never at night. The lighted windows must be visible for tens of miles. It was near dusk, and the daylight through the windows was dimming, but Harry Czescu and Bob Needleton continued to move cargo. "Sarge" Workman helped for awhile, but he was the only jet mechanic they had, and they needed him to keep the turbo expander working properly. Gordon joined them, got tired and quit.
Nothing was large, nothing was heavy. They climbed about within the cabin space, tethering everything with lightweight nylon cord. Heavier stuff on the bottom, then sturdy metal cages. Guinea pigs and guinea hens and rabbits expressed anxiety in their diverse fashions.
"Make sure you don't cover up the front of the cage," Bob said. They need air."
"Teach your grandmother to suck eggs…"
A net would cover everything once it was all in place. The paper in the cages would come out just before they closed up the Phoenix. Or maybe not. The cages stank, but after all, organics were organics…
Another load in place. Back out, and down to ground level. Harry lit a cigarette. He was just about the only one on Thunder Ridge who smoked. He took two puffs and inched off the end, put the butt back in the package. "OK, do we want to glue the mat in now? Or wait?"
Bob didn't answer.
"Lighten up, Pins. Nobody thinks--" Harry looked up. "Hi, Sherry, C.C. Alex, they brought you an exercise mat."
"Hi, Harry." C.C. rubbed his hands together briskly. "Okay. What can we give up? Alex, those mice are gengineered to produce juvenile growth hormones. That'd let the Angels grow their bones back, right?"
"That's what I'm told," Alex said.
"You need the seeds a lot, the guinea pigs and guinea hens and rabbits not as much. The diet supplements, of course. No bull semen, to bowdlerize a phrase. Sausage packed in dry ice?"
"Sausage, no. Eat it before we take off, if it's that good and won't keep. Dry ice, hell no. Carbon we want, but oxygen comes almost free from lunar rock. Did anyone think of sending lamp black?"
C.C. ran his eyes down the list. "I don't think so. I'll see what we can get when. How badly do you want these metals? And the honeycomb blocks? They re heavy."
"It's not really my department, C.C."
"Alex, you and Gordon are the only ones who can make these choices. And five passengers… Where the hell is Gordon?"
Alex waved toward the shadows where he had seen Gordon with Jenny Trout. "I told him we needed him, but--"
Bob Needleton said, "I confess I do not see why the fifth wheel has to be me." His ears and nose were noticeably pink.
Alex said, "Gordon. Sherrine. Hudson. Me. You. Shall I take the exercise mat?"
Bob was having trouble pulling the words out. "We pulled you off the Ice. The rest are gone. There's only me and Sherrine left--"