They make hydrogen. If they make hydrogen, they must have oxygen as well. But-
There was a tap at the door. "Come in."
Gordon came in, frowned at the costumes, swords, and tapestries. "I thought perhaps you might want company."
Gordon found a pair of cushions and lowered himself to the floor, slowly, carefully. "It is tiring, standing upright so long. But, every day grows easier. Perhaps I will like it here. The people are… interesting."
Alex smiled and sat on the bed beside Gordon. "Remember what they do to interesting people."
"Is criminal. Alex, is no objective evidence for the effectiveness of psychoanalysis. Just replaces conscience, original sin and confessor with superego, id and analyst. In Stalinist times, was used in same way to deal with dissidents. Our way is so obviously right and good that if you disagree you must be crazy."
"I never heard you talk this way before, Gordo."
"I sound angry? I am angry. I like these people, Alex. I am half-Russian. Mental health clinics… I know what they are risking to help us. You saw Cole. I don't wish that to happen to Sherrine, or any of our friends."
"Neither do I. It's simple enough. We let them go home, and we keep moving. No more dreams."
"You must always have dreams." Gordon craned his neck and looked at him. "You do not wish to remain down here, do you?"
Alex rose and walked to the window. He studied the shrouded sky once more. "No."
"Yet, you were born here. This was your home."
A shrug. "That was a long time ago."
"And if we go back? Colonies are doomed. We all know this."
Alex looked around the room.
"You think they listen?"
"No. If these people are listening without permission it would be more than--no. But don't say that where they can hear, Gordon."
"Is pravda, though. More than pravda. Is true."
Alex nodded slowly. "Yeah, I suppose it is, over the long haul. We're running out of everything. The resource base is too small." He laughed bitterly. "Ninety percent of the resources available to the human race, easily available, aren't on Earth, and we have them. But the resource base is too small. Not enough people, not enough chlorine, nitrogen--"
"Dr. Lichinsky says give him few more years, he will make chlorine and nitrogen."
"Fusion synthesis. Yeah. And his people have been saying they'd have that Real Soon Now since before you were born, Gordo. Face it, even with chlorine and nitrogen and more genetic materials, there are just too damn few of us!"
"Yet you are eager to return."
"Hell yes! I fought to make Freedom a home. Home is the place you would die to save. And that's not the bottom of the Well. Not that it matters. We can't go back."
"I think this, too," Gordon said. "But--is not so bad."
"Yeah, yeah," Alex said. "But dammit, the Downers are on a downward spiral, too. They turned their back on the future, and now they've got no more chance than the habitats! Every decade, every year, they're less able to cope. It won't be long before conditions will be like that song, 'Black powder and alcohol. When your states and cities fall--' "
"Orbital decay."
"Eh?"
"Is like Mir and Freedom, nye pravda? Spiralling downward. Every decade atmosphere drag eats velocity. But perhaps a timely boost can still save them."
Alex scowled and looked away from him. "It's not that easy. We're not talking about a space habitat you can strap booster rockets to."
"No, trajectory of people is harder to change. So. What do we do now? Do you believe in this Phoenix?"
Alex worked his lips. "No, but--if there's even the slightest chance."
"Why?"
"Why not? We have to go somewhere. Steve said California was our best chance for going underground, anyway."
"And when Phoenix fails to rise from her ashes, you will chase after the next rumor and the next."
"At least I'll still be trying. What else is there to do?"
Ron Cole sat in a large stuffed chair in the oversized living room. He looked somehow out of place, and kept casting nervous glances left and right. Jerky movements, like a bird's. Then he sprang from the chair and shoved it into a corner of the wall. After that he sat slightly more at ease, though he still seemed to twitch nervously.
"Is it still paranoia," Thor whispered to Alex, "when they really are out to get you?"
Cole's eyes danced from face to face around the room, lingering briefly on each. He frowned slightly when he locked gazes with Alex; and nibbled on his lower lip over Harry. "Oliver," he said plaintively, "there are too many."
Helga and Violetta had already returned with several bags of snack foods that they had bartered from the grocery store for the Wisconsin cheese. They broke open bags of chips and trail mix into large bowls and hand them out. Alex raised his eyebrows.
"So much in trade?" he asked her.
"Oh, people will pay far more for the cheese than it is worth," Helga explained. "I suppose that, as long as a single slice can make it out of 'America's Dairyland,' people can tell themselves that things, aren't all that bad and they'll return to normal someday."
"Nostalgia has value, doesn't it?" said Sherrine. "Don't we have our own nostalgia? For the way the future was."
" 'A Fire in the Sky'…" said Bob.
"And we all want a slice of that future, too," said Mike with a grin.
"The Phoenix," said Bruce.
Cole jerked and looked at him. "You're not supposed to know about that. What do you know about Phoenix? Oliver, I don't know these people."
"Take it easy, Ron. Nobody here but us chickens. Alex and Gordon here are…"
"Angels. Yes, yes. That's obvious. Bone structure. Height. Anyone can see that. And Thor. I know Thor. I think. It's so hard to remember sometimes."
Alex exchanged looks with Gordon. Was their origin that obvious? If so, how could they ever hope to maintain a false ID? Or was it--remembering the other people they had encountered along the way-obvious only to someone like Cole?
"You know Harry," said Oliver.
Cole made a face. "Yes. I knew Harry. Know Harry. Oh, thank you."
Violetta had come by with a tray of glasses. Cole took one and sipped it. "Oh my, yes. What is it?"
"Dandelion wine."
Cole licked his lips. He looked sly. "I know where you can get some peach brandy."
"Yes, Ron," said Helga from the kitchen door. "We know. You sell it to us. Harry?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Could you help me out in the kitchen for a minute. I'm cutting up the rest of the cheese for hors d'oeuvres."
Harry looked briefly angry, then looked sidelong at Ron Cole. "Yeah, sure."
Jenny took his arm. "Come on. They don't need us here." She led him from the room. At the doorway, she turned. "It really does hurt his feelings, you know. He's not as tough as he likes to act."
Oliver shifted in his seat. "Sure. But, Christ, Jenny, you know him better than any of us. I sent him out for beer once and…"
"And the store was closed, so Harry broke a window. I know. He likes to tell that story."
Alex frowned. "He smashed a store window to steal some beer? That doesn't sound--"
"No, he left money for it."
Thor was sitting on the floor with his back to the opposite wall. He rose smoothly and dusted himself. "I guess I'll take a long walk."
Steve said, "Hey, Thor…" And Fang reached out and touched the golden giant's arm.
"Sorry, Steve. Fang. But I haven't stayed loose this long by hanging around a bull's-eye. Neither have you."