"Last resort," she said, quietly, in English. ,if it looks like she's going to get free, take that rock and hit her over the head. If she gets away, she's dead."
"Gotcha. What's she talking about?" "She wants to make love to me."
"With that? Maybe I'd better bean her now."
"Don't be silly. We're in no danger from her. If she gets loose, she won't even see us. Do you hear them coming back?"
"I think so."
It turned out to be not nearly so difficult the second time. They never gave Hornpipe a chance to hear the angels, and while she sweated and shook as if she could somehow feel them. she never struggled very hard.
And then they were gone, back to the eternal darkness of the spoke high above Rhea.
She cried when they released her; the helpless sobs of a child who doesn't understand what has happened to her. That turned into petulance and complaints, chiefly about her sore legs and cars. Gaby and Cirocco rubbed her legs where the ropes had chafed. Her cloven hooves were as clear and red as cherry jello.
She seemed confused as to the whereabouts of Panpipe, but not distressed when she understood he had gone into battle. She gave them sloppy kisses and pressed herself against them amorously, causing Gaby some concern even when Cirocco explained the Titanides rigidly divided frontal and rear intercourse. The frontal organs were for the production of semi-fertilized eggs, which were then manually implanted in a rear vagina and brought to fecundity by a rear penis.
When she got to her feet she was too drunk to carry them. They walked her in circles and finally headed her back toward town. In a few hours they could get on her back again.
Titantown was in sight before they found Panpipe. The blood had already dried in his pretty blue fur. A lance stuck out from his side, pointed at the sky. He had been mutilated.
Hornpipe knelt at his side and wept while Gaby and sirocco hung back. There was bitterness in Cirocco's mouth. Did Hornpipe blame her? Would she have preferred to have died with him, or was that a hopelessly Earthling notion? The Titanides didn't seem to understand the glory of battle; it was something they did because they couldn't help it. Cirocco admired them for the first, pitied them for the second.
Do you rejoice for the one you saved, or weep for the one you lost? She could not do both, so she wept.
Hornpipe struggled to her feet, much heavier than she had been. Three years old, Cirocco thought. It meant nothing. She had some of the innocence of a human of the same age, but she was a Titanide adult.
She picked up the severed head and kissed it once, then set it down by the body. She sang nothing; the Titanides had no song for this moment.
Gaby and Cirocco got on her back again, and Hornpipe set out for town at a slow trot.
"Tomorrow," Cirocco said. "We leave for the hub tomorrow."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Five days later, Cirocco was still preparing to depart. There was the problem of who and what to take.
Bill was out, though he had other opinions. So was August. She spoke seldom now, spending her time on the edge of town, answering questions in monosyllables. Calvin could not say if the best therapy would be to leave her or take her with them. Cirocco had to decide in favor of the mission, which would be in trouble if August suffered a breakdown.
Calvin was out because he had promised to stay in Titantown until Bill was well enough to care for himself; after that, he was on his own.
Gene was in. Cirocco wanted him where she could keep an eye on him, far from Titanides.
That left Gaby.
"You can't leave map," she said, not pleading, merely stating a fact of life. "I'll follow you."
"I won't try to. You're a pest with this fixation you have on me that I don't deserve. But you saved my life, which I've never really thanked you for, and I want you to know , never forget it. "
"I don't want your thanks," Gaby said. "I want your love."
"I can't give it to you. I like you, Gaby. Hell, we've been side by side since this thing started. But we're doing the first fifty kilometers in Whistlestop. I won't force you to get on."
Gaby paled, but spoke up bravely. "You won't have to." Cirocco nodded. "As I say, it's up to you. Calvin says we can
get to the level of the twilight zone. The blimps don't go any higher than that, because the angels don't like it."
"So it's you and me and Gene?"
"Yeah." Cirocco frowned. "I'm glad you're going."
They needed many things and Cirocco did not know how to obtain them. The Titanides had a system of exchange, but prices were established by a complex formula involving degrees of relationship, standing in the community, and need. No one went hungry, but low-status individuals like Hornpipe had little but meals, shelter, and the bare necessities of body ornamentation. The Titanides viewed these as only slightly less vital than food.
There was a credit system, and Meistersinger used some of his, but relied mostly on pegging Cirocco's status arbitrarily , claiming her as his spiritual hinddaughter and making a case that she should be adopted as such by the community because of the nature of her mission.
Most of the Titanide artisans bought the idea, and were almost too helpful in outfitting the party. Backpacks were made with straps arranged for human bodies. Then everyone came with offering his or her finest wares.
Cirocco had decided each of them could carry around fifty kilos of mass. It bulked large, but weighed only twelve kilos and would get lighter as they climbed toward the hub. Gaby said the centripetal acceleration there would be one fortieth of a gravity.
Rope was the first consideration. The Titanides had a plant that grew fine rope, strong, thin, and supple. Each human could carry a hundred-meter coil of it.
The Titanides were good climbers, though they largely confined their efforts to trees. Cirocco discussed pitons with the ironworkers, who came back with their best efforts. Unfortunately, steel was news to the Titanides. Gene looked at the pi- tons and shook his head.
"It's the best they can do," Cirocco said. "They tempered it, like I told them."
"It's still not enough. But don't worry. Whatever the insides of the spoke is, it won't he rock. Rock could never stand up to the pressures trying to tear this place apart. In fact, I don't know of anything strong enough."
"Which just means the people who built Gaea knew things we don't know."
Cirocco was not too disturbed. The angels lived in the spokes. Unless they existed by flying all their lives, they had to perch somewhere. If they could perch on something, she could cling to it too.
They brought hammers to drive the pitons, the lightest and hardest the Titanides could make. The metalworkers provided them with hatchets and knives, and whetstones to sharpen them. They each packed a parachute, courtesy of Whistle stop.
"Clothes," Cirocco said. "What kind of clothes should we bring?"
Meistersinger looked helpless. "I have no need of then as you can see, " he sang. "Some of our people who are naked-skinned, as you are, wear them in the cold times. We can make what you want."
So they were outfitted in the finest patterned silks from head to toe. It was not actually silk, but felt just like it. Over that were felt shirts and pants, two sets for each of them, and woven sweaters for upper and lower parts of the body. Fur coats and pants were made, and fur-lined gloves and hard-soled moccasins. They had to go prepared for anything, and though the clothing took a lot a space, Cirocco didn't begrudge it.
They packed silk hammocks and sleeping bags. The Titanides had matches, and oil-burning lamps. They took one each, and a small supply of fuel. There was no way it would stretch for the whole journey, but neither would their food or water.