Throughout his awkward speech Jaen had kept her head down, fiddling with the kindling in a fire bowl; now she looked up. "I suppose you're right." She bit her lip. "I just wish—"
"What?"
"I just wish it wasn't Rees who had come back from the dead to save the human race. That little mine rat was pompous enough as he was…"
Pallis laughed. "Fill your bowl, apprentice."
Jaen set to work. Pallis took a silent pleasure in working with her. She was a good woodsman, fast and efficient; somehow she knew what to do without being told, and without getting in his damn way…
The blanket of smoke gathered beneath the platform of foliage. The tree rotated faster and surged up at the Belt, the air rushing through its foliage evoking sharp, homely scents in Pallis's nostrils. The sentry craft were immobile shadows against the red sky. Pallis braced his legs against the trunk of his tree, the strength of the wood a comforting base below him, and cupped his hands to his mouth. "Miners!"
Faces scowled over the rim of each craft. Pallis, squinting, could make out weapons held ready: spears, knives, clubs.
He held his hands wide. "We come in peace! You can see that, for the love of the Bones. What do you think I've got, an armada tucked under my branches?"
Now a miner called down. "Piss off home, woodsman, before you get yourself killed."
He felt a slow anger suffuse his scars. "My name is Pallis, and I'm not about to piss off anywhere. I've got news that will affect every man, woman and child on the Belt. And you're going to let me deliver it!"
The miner scratched his head suspiciously. "What news?"
"Let us through and I'll tell you. It comes from one of your own. Rees—"
The miners conferred with each other; then the spokesman turned back to Pallis. "You're lying. Rees is dead."
Pallis laughed. "No, he isn't; and his story is what my news is all about—"
With shocking suddenness a spear arced over the rim of the plate. He called a sharp warning to Jaen; the spear slid through the foliage and dwindled into the depths of the Nebula.
Pallis stood, hands on hips, and glared up at the miners, "You're lousy listeners, aren't you?"
"Woodsman, we're starving here because of Raft greed. And good men are dying trying to put that right—"
"Let them die! No one asked them to attack the Raft!" Jaen roared.
"Shut up, Jaen," Pallis hissed.
She snorted. "Look, pilot, those bastards are armed and we aren't. They're obviously not listening to a damn word we say. If we try to get any closer they'll probably just torch the tree with their jets. There's no point in suicide, is there? We'll just have to find another way."
He rubbed his beard. "But there is no other way. We have to talk to them." And, without letting himself think about it, he reached out with one foot and kicked over the nearest fire bowl. The kindling spilled out, smoking, and soon tiny flames were licking at the foliage.
Jaen stared, motionless, for perhaps five seconds; then she broke into a flurry of motion. "Pallis, what the hell — I'll get the blankets—"
He wrapped her forearm in one massive hand. "No, Jaen. Let it burn."
She stared into his face, her expression blank and uncomprehending.
The flames spread like living things. Above them the miners stared down, evidently baffled.
Pallis found he had to lick his lips before he could speak. "The foliage is very dry, you see. It's a consequence of the failing of the Nebula. The air is too arid; and the spectrum of starlight now isn't suitable for photosynthesis in the leaves…"
"Pallis," Jaen said firmly, "stop babbling."
"… Yes. I'm gambling they'll pick us up. It's the only choice." He forced himself to study the blackened and twisting wood, the scorched leaves blowing in the air.
Jaen touched his scarred cheek; her fingertips came away damp. "This is really hurting you, isn't it?"
He laughed painfully. "Jaen, it's taking all my willpower to keep from the blankets." Suddenly anger coursed through his grief. "You know, of all the lousy, terrible things human beings do in this universe, this is the worst. People can do what they like to each other and I'll turn away; but now I'm forced to destroy one of my own trees…"
"You can let go of my arm."
"What?" Surprised, he glanced down to find he still gripped her forearm. He released it. "I'm sorry."
She rubbed her flesh ruefully. "I understand, tree-pilot; I won't try to stop you." She held out her hand. With gratitude he took it, gently this time.
The platform lurched, making them both stumble. The flames at the heart of the blaze now stood taller than Pallis. "It's happening fast," he murmured.
"Yes. Do you think we should grab hold of some supply pods?"
The thought made him laugh out loud. "What, so we can take light snacks on our way down to the Core?"
"OK, stupid idea. Not as stupid as setting fire to the bloody tree, though."
"Maybe you've a point."
A complete section of the rim gave way now, disappearing in a shower of burning embers; truncated branches burned like fat candles. "I think it's time," Pallis said.
Jaen peered about. "I guess the best strategy is to run to the rim and jump for it. Get as much speed as we can, and hope that that plus the rotation of the tree will take us far enough from all this debris."
"OK."
They looked into each other's eyes — and Pallis's feet were pumping over the crisp foliage; the rim approached and he fought the instincts of a lifetime to stop and then the rim was under his feet and—
— and he was sailing through the empty, bottomless air, his hand still locked to Jaen's.
It was almost exhilarating.
They tumbled, their flight slowing rapidly in the smoky air, and Pallis found himself hanging in the sky, feet toward the Belt, Jaen to his right, the tree before him.
The tree rim was a girdle of fire. Smoke billowed from the mass of foliage packed into the platform. With cracks like explosions the shaped branches failed and whole sectors of the disc, soaked in flame, came away with great rustles of sparks. Soon only the trunk remained, a gnarled remnant ringed by the stumps of its branches.
At last the disintegrated tree fell away into the sky, and Pallis and Jaen were left, hands still locked, hanging in a void.
The miners were nowhere to be seen.
Pallis looked at Jaen, oddly embarrassed. What, he wondered, should they talk about? "You know, Raft children grow up with a fear of falling," he said. "I guess the flat, steady surface beneath their feet gets taken for granted. They forget that the Raft is no more than a leaf hovering in the air… nothing like as substantial as those huge, impossible planets in that other universe you Scientists tell us about.
"But Belt children grow up on a tatty string of boxes circling a shrunken star. They have no safe plane to stand on. And their fear now wouldn't be of falling, but of having nothing to hang on to…"
Jaen pushed her hair back from her broad face. "Pallis, are you frightened?"
He thought it over. "No. I don't suppose I am. I was more frightened before I kicked the bloody fire bowl over."
She shrugged, a mid-air gesture that made her body rock. "I don't seem to be either. I only regret your gamble didn't pay off—"
"Well, it was worth a try."
"—And I'd love to know how it all works out in the end…"
"How long do you think we'll last?"
"Maybe days. We should have brought food pallets. But at least we'll get to see some sights — Pallis!" Her eyes widened with shock; she let go of Pallis's hand and began to make scrambling, swimming motions, as if trying to crawl up through the air.