Rees laughed. "I don't know, Pallis. That's just a sketch; I'm sure there are better ways."
Decker sat back, his scarred face a mask of intense concentration.
Hollerbach held up a crooked finger. "Of course you almost made the trip involuntarily, Rees. If you hadn't found a way to deflect that whale, even row you'd be travelling among the star clouds with it."
"Maybe that's the way to do it," Pallis said. "Cut our way into the whales, carry in food and water, and let them take us to our new home."
Rees shook his head. "I don't think that would work, pilot. The interior of a whale isn't designed to support human life."
Once more Pallis struggled with the strange ideas. "So we'll have to take the Raft… but the Raft will lose all its air, won't it, outside the Nebula? So we'll have to build some sort of shell to keep in the atmosphere…"
Hollerbach nodded, evidently pleased. "That's good thinking, Pallis. Maybe we'll make a Scientist of you yet."
"Patronizing old bugger," Pallis murmured affectionately.
Again the fire burned in Rees. He turned his intense gaze on Decker. "Decker, somewhere buried in all this bullshit is a way for the race to survive. That's what's at stake here. We can do it; have no doubt about that. But we need your support." Rees fell silent.
Pallis held his breath. He sensed that he was at a momentous event, a turning point in the history of his species, and somehow it all hinged on Rees. Pallis studied the young Scientist closely, thought he observed a slight tremble of his cheeks; but Rees's determination showed in his eyes. At length Decker said quietly, "How do we
start?"
Pallis let his breath out slowly; he saw Hol-lerbach smile, and a kind of victory shone in Rees's eyes; but wisely neither of them exulted in their triumph. Rees said: "First we contact the miners."
Decker exploded: "What?"
"They're humans too, you know," Hollerbach said gently. "They have a right to life."
"And we need them," said Rees. "We're likely to need iron. Lots of it…"
And so Pallis and Jaen had destroyed a tree, and now sat on a Belt rooftop. The star kernel hung above them, a blot in the sky; a cloud of rain drizzled around them, plastering Pallis's hair and beard to his face. Sheen sat facing them, slowly chewing on a slab of meat-sim. Jame was behind her, arms folded. Sheen said slowly, "I'm still not sure why I shouldn't simply kill you."
Pallis grunted, exasperated. "For all your faults, Sheen, I never took you for a fool. Don't you understand the significance of what I've traveled here to tell you?"
Jame smirked. "How are we supposed to know it isn't some kind of trick? Pilot, you forget we're at war."
"A trick? You explain how Rees survived his exile from the Belt — and how he came to ride home on a whale. My god, his tale comes close to the simplest hypothesis when you think about it."
Jame scratched his dirt-crusted scalp. "The what?"
Jaen smiled. Pallis said, "I'll explain sometime… Damn it, I'm telling you the time for war is gone, barman. Its justification is gone. Rees has shown us a way out of this gas prison we're in… but we have to work together. Sheen, can't we get out of this bloody rain?"
The rain trickled down her tired face. "You're not welcome here. I told you. You're here on sufferance. You're not entitled to shelter…"
Her words were much as they had been since Pallis had begun describing his mission here — but was her tone a little more uncertain? "Look, Sheen, I'm not asking for a one-way deal. We need your iron, your metal-working skills — but you need food, water, medical supplies. Don't you? And for better or worse the Raft still has a monopoly on the supply machines. Now I can tell you, with the full backing of Decker, the Committee, and whoever bloody else you want me to produce, that we're willing to share. If you like we'll allocate you a sector of the Raft with its own set of machines. And in the longer term… we offer the miners life for their children."
Jame leant forward and spat into the rain. "You're full of crap, tree-pilot."
Beside Pallis Jaen bunched a fist. "You bloody clod—"
"Oh, shut up, both of you." Sheen pushed wet hair from her eyes. "Look, Pallis; even if I said 'yes' that's not the end of it. We don't have a 'Committee,' or a boss, or any of that. We talk things out among us."
Pallis nodded, hope bursting in his heart. "I understand that." He stared directly into Sheen's brown eyes; he tried to pour his whole being, all their shared memories, into his words. "Sheen, you know me. You know I'm no fool, whatever else I'm guilty of… I'm asking you to trust me. Think it through. Would I have stranded myself here if I wasn't sure of my case? Would I have lost something so precious as—"
Jame sneered. "As what, your worthless life?"
With genuine surprise Pallis turned to the barman. "Jarne, I meant my tree."
A complex expression crossed Sheen's face. "Pallis, I don't know. I need time."
Pallis held up his palms. "I understand. Take all the time you want; speak to whoever you want. In the meantime… will you let us stay?"
"You're not stopping at the Quartermaster's, that's for sure."
Pallis smiled serenely. "Barman, if I never sup your dilute piss again it will be too soon."
Sheen shook her head. "You don't change, do you, pilot…? You know, even if — if — your story is true, your madcap scheme is full of holes." She pointed to the star kernel. "After working on that thing maybe we have a better feel for gravity than you people. I can tell you, that gravitational slingshot maneuver is going to be bloody tricky. You'll have to get it just right…"
"I know. And even as we sit here we're getting some advice on that."
"Advice? Who from?"
Pallis smiled.
Gord woke to a sound of shouting.
He pushed himself upright from his pallet. He wondered vaguely how long he had slept… Here, of course, there was no cycle of shifts, no Belt turning like a clock — nothing to mark the time but sour sleep, dull, undemanding work, foul expeditions to the ovens. Still, the former engineer's stomach told him that at least a few hours had elapsed. He looked to the diminishing pile of food stacked in the corner of his hut — and found himself shuddering. A little more time and perhaps he'd be hungry enough to eat more of the stuff.
The shouting grew in volume and a slow curiosity gathered in him. The world of the Boneys was seamless and incident-free. What could be causing such a disturbance? A whale? But the lookouts usually spotted the great beasts many shifts before their arrival, and no song had been initiated.
Almost reluctantly he got to his feet and made his way to the door.
A crowd of a dozen or so Boneys, adults and children alike, stood on the leather surface of the world with faces upturned. One small child pointed skywards. Puzzled, Gord stepped out to join them.
Air washed down over him, carrying with it a scent of wood and leaves that briefly dispersed the taint of corruption in his nostrils. He looked up and gasped.
A tree rotated in the sky. It was grand and serene, its trunk no more than fifty yards above him.
Gord hadn't seen a tree since his exile from the Belt. Perhaps some of these Boneys had never seen one in their lives.
A man dangled upside down from the trunk, dark, slim and oddly familiar. He was waving. "Gord? Is that you…?"
"Rees? It can't be… You're dead. Aren't you?"
Rees laughed. "They keep telling me I ought to be."
"You survived your jump to the whale?"
"More than that… I made it back to the Raft."
"You're not serious."
"It's a long story. I've travelled from the Raft to see you.»