"Yes. What I'd like to see is outside," Mews said. He led the way away from the building, away from where Phoenix stood under the tin-roofed hangar. Away from the fuel tanks. Off past the parking lot.
Hudson frowned but followed as Steve went out to an empty area. "Safe to talk here?" Steve asked.
Hudson nodded. "Safe everywhere. No bugs here, if there ever were any. Things deteriorate, and nobody cares about a dead bird anyway. She'll never fly again. Talk about what?"
"She sure looks dead." Steve sighed. "But I've got a package for you. Wade Curtis says to tell you it's a Doherty Project."
Gary Hudson's face went quite slack. He shied back a bit from the small parcel Mews pulled from his jacket pocket. "Doherty Project."
"Absolutely."
Hudson took the package and opened it. Inside was a half-pint bottle of clear liquid. "Moonbeams?"
"Seawater," Steve said "And we took that shipping tag off a compressed air cylinder. It has a poem written on it. It's to be pinned to the ground with a knife."
Hudson stared out across the desert. "For Mare Imbrium," he said slowly. "Yeah. All right, you're real. At least you sure come from Curtis. Like a ghost after all these years. Now what's up?"
"Angels down. You heard about it."
"Sure. So?"
"We rescued them."
"Where? Where are they?"
Mews pointed east. "About ten miles that way. The Astroburger stand, at Cramer's Four Corners. Waiting for you to say it's all clear. They've got two tank trucks of jet fuel, and the ROMs that Cole was keeping for you."
Gary Hudson stared at him. "But--you mean--"
Hope you've got your bags packed," Steve said. "It's time."
The motorcycle came up an hour later. Harry and Jenny got off and stretched elaborately. "Hello, Gary."
"Hello, Harry. OK, you're real, too. Are there really Angels out there-"
"If the chili ortega Astroburgers didn't kill 'em," Harry said. He looked around the facility. "Can we work alone here?"
"Until Friday," Gary said. "And I can close the gate then, if there's good reason."
Harry had a small radio, the kind that used to be sold in pairs as children's toys. He extended the antenna. "Gabriel, this is Rover. All clear." He listened for a second and grinned. "OK. Now, do you have a beer? It's been days. I mean literally."
The tanker trucks wound slowly up the hill. Hudson watched with binoculars. "They look full," he said.
"They are full," Harry said. "One diesel fuel, one JP-4. Enough to make the hydrogen and LOX--"
"For a bird that will never fly," Hudson said.
"Oh, bullshit," Harry said. "You haven't been saying that so long you believe it, have you?"
"Harry--"
Harry shrugged. "Okay, but you're scaring the kids. Look at Steve. He's turning white."
"I am not."
"Get that man a mirror!"
"Harry, there's no launching pad, nothing."
"Sure," Harry said. "Gary, one thing, you better let the Angels in on this right away. When they finally set eyes on Cole's Titan, they were ready for self-immolation."
Hudson was sweating, and it wasn't the heat. "Harry, why don't I just put up a neon sign?"
"It's gonna get conspicuous anyway, isn't it?"
"This is just what I've been avoiding for fifteen years. More. Some of the Air Force types like to daydream, but a real launch? If they see…"
"You're gonna be conspicuous. That's all. What can you do that won't show right away? Making fuel is noisy. Your grocery bill is gonna go up. You'll have to wheel the beast out--"
"No, that's the one thing I don't have to do. Bring them in, Harry. Just bring them."
It was crowded with four in the truck. The Angels hadn't wanted to be separated from each other, and Gordon hadn't wanted to travel without Barbara Dinsby. New love and true love, Bob Needleton thought. They look cute together. Of course it meant that Sherrine was riding with Fang in the other truck.
And maybe that's all right too. It was pretty clear that something was happening between Alex and Sherrine. And we're leaving her behind, too. If that rocket works I am by damn going. I have earned a place. I thought of the rescue!
Harry was waiting at the turnoff into Edwards. He waved them on, then passed both trucks to lead the way. Bob was glad that the road was twisty and full of holes. He welcomed the distraction.
Lee Arteria drove past the turnoff into Edwards and went on for another mile before stopping. Even then she stayed well inside her car, so that the sun wouldn't flash off the binoculars. She watched as the trucks ground slowly up the hill.
So far so good. And Moorkith was still looking for the Angels down by the Mexican border, certain that they were being smuggled out of the country. Arteria grinned wolfishly. It's too late, Moorkith, my lad. They're on Air Force property now. They're mine.
Gary Hudson shook hands with Alex, then Gordon. He prolonged his grip on Gordon's hand. "Weak arm, strong grip. Do you have any trouble standing?"
Gordon grinned broadly. "Stronger every day. Steve has--"
Hudson pulled his arm to the right and back. Gordon fell over.
Hudson's left arm caught Gordon's elbow and pulled him back upright. Nobody laughed at Gordon's gaping astonishment.
Hudson said, "Sorry. I had to know. So. It's decision time."
"What's to decide?" Harry said. "They need to go to orbit, and you have the only rocket ship that will get them there."
"Harry--" Miller said.
"He's right," Fang said. "God damn."
"So I just fire it up and go," Gary said. "So simple. Why didn't I think of that?"
Gordon asked, "is it real? Will it fly?"
"It's real but--" Gary caught himself. He took a deep breath. "It's a real rocket ship. It really goes straight up on a pillar of fire. It even goes into orbit. Barely. Almost."
Nobody wanted to say it, so they all looked at each other until Jenny Trout said, "What good is that?"
"I don't get much chance to explain this. We have here a prototype, and it isn't the whole thing. When we were doing the planning, I took the most optimistic assumptions. Why not? But the FAA had some rules that apply to airplanes. My stockholders wanted a heavier heat shield. The landing, legs--"
"Landing legs? Sorry," Alex said. "Of course it has to land. I'm too used to dippers."
"Sure. Phoenix comes down on its own tail fire, just like all the old Analog covers, just like the LEM. I made the legs so slender it won't stand up unless the fuel tanks are dead empty. But they still have to take a recoil, and my stockholders wanted them beefed up." Hudson's bony shoulders rose and fell. "Everything got just a little heavier.
"But, dammit! I'd have put a bigger cabin on the real thing. It'd fire passengers halfway around the world in under two hours. Every president of every company or country would want one. And with the zero stage it could have reached geosynchronous orbit, and that would have been…"
Nobody had said anything about a "zero stage." Alex was about to comment when Hudson went on. "The zero stage would have been cheap as dirt. Same fuel and oxygen tanks, same pump system, same legs--because of course it lands independently! Half again as many motors and no heat shield. You could serve a dozen Phoenixes with two lousy Zeros because they recycle so fast."
"So where is our zero stage?"
"It paid the lawyers for awhile, and then I was bankrupt. The Greens sued me. Poking holes in the ozone layer, yada yada." Hudson shook his head violently. "Sorry. Way off the subject. You want to know what you need now."