Heaven Chronicles

survival … the ship was a phantom, and pursuing it would only waste more resources they couldn't afford to lose. …

Raul glanced up, pushing his own thoughts into order. He rarely spoke out unless he had been able to consider all sides of a question; he had learned long ago that selective silence was a more effective tool than a loud voice. Since his promotion to Hand, he had used it to good effect to earn himself a reputation for getting what he wanted, for building up the efficiency of the Merchant Marine and the influence of the trade faction. Finding a lull, he broke into the discussion: “As you all know, I've been opposed to the development and support of our high delta- vee force from the beginnin' ….” He searched the faces along the table, seeing resentment glance along the far side, feeling the gratification that spread from Lobachevsky along his own side. He had believed, along with the minority of others, that the Demarchy posed no realistic threat to the safety of the Grand Harmony, that the resources used to maintain a defense fleet would serve the Harmony's interest better if they were employed to bolster trade within the Rings, and even with the Demarchy itself. Because he understood that the status quo was deterioration, and that nothing could overthrow that order.… “But this's a situation I never foresaw. In this situation, I have to admit I'm glad we have a high delta-vee force available … and I am in favor of usin' it to pursue that ship—” Voices indignant with betrayal cut him off; he saw the hostility re-form into surprise across the table. “I know it's a gamble. I know it's probably a futile one, and the odds against us capturin' that ship are damned high. But they're not astronomical: the ship's damaged, we don't know how severely. It may be that they'll lie low at Lansing, if Lansing's still alive; it's worth the loss, worth the gamble, to find out. We've got this damned high delta- vee force whether we want it or not—let's put it to some rational use! If we know this much about the starship, you can count on the Demarchy knowin' just as much—and bein' just as interested. I don't believe they're any threat without that ship; but if we don't get the ship, and they do, anything we do is goin' to be academic from then on.

“I propose that the closest available high delta-vee force be readied as soon as possible to pursue the starship toward Lansing. And I request that I be given command.…”

The acrimony of the final debate faded from his mind as acceleration's false gravity abruptly ceased, leaving his body free in a sudden release from tension. He had won, in the end, because there was no one in the room who could question his sincerity, or his determination to achieve whatever goal he set himself. And so these ships would continue in a drifting fall toward Lansing. And if the life-support systems held out, they would find—something; or nothing. The cards had been laid down; the Grand Harmony had gambled on the last chance it would ever have.

Ranger (Demarchy space) +553 kiloseconds

“No, that won't work either. They could see this isn't a prewar ship.” Bird Alyn shook her head; her hair, caught into two stubby ponytails, stood out from her head like seafoam.

“Then there's nothing more I can suggest, offhand.” Betha glanced from face to face, questioning. Clewell sat firmly belted into a seat; Bird Alyn and Shadow Jack sprawled in the air, totally secure in the absence of gravity. The five-day journey along sixty degrees of Discus's orbit had transformed them, superficially: Their skin and hair were shining clean, their long, gangly bodies forced into dungarees and soft pullover shirts. But the start of one-gee acceleration had left them crushed on the floor like reedflies, and they still winced with the stiffness of wrenched muscles, and the memory. And there were other memories, that shone darkly in their hungry eyes and quick, nervous words; memories out of a past that Betha was afraid to imagine and glad she would never know.

“I still say you should leave the Demarchy alone.” Shadow Jack struck out a thin bronze foot, stroked Rusty gingerly as she drifted past. “We should've gone for the Rings. It's a lot safer to steal it from them. If you ask me —”

“I wasn't asking—that.” Betha smiled faintly. “I want to trade, not steal.… I already know how ‘safe’ it is in the rings of Discus, Shadow Jack.”

“But the Demarchy's worse. They've got a higher technology.”

“How much higher? You don't really know. And they aren't looking for us, either. With your ship to ferry us in, we can slip in and out of a distillery before they even think about it. But what do we trade for hydrogen?” She repeated the inventory again in her mind, struggling with the knowledge that only Eric would know what was right, what to offer, what to say. Only Eric had been trained to know.… Oh, Eric—

Shadow Jack frowned, pulling at his toes. Bird Alyn caught Rusty, set her spinning slowly head over paws in the air. Rusty caught her own tail and began to wash it. Bird Alyn laughed, inaudible.

“The cat,” Shadow Jack said. “We could give them the cat!”

“What?” Clewell straightened indignantly.

“Sure. Nobody's got a cat anymore. But nobody in the Demarchy could know we didn't; Lansing had a lot of animals, once. And it's just what the Demarchists go for: somethin' really rare. The owner of a distillery, he'd probably give you half his stock to own Rusty.”

“That's ridiculous,” Clewell said.

“No … maybe it's not. Pappy.” Betha spread her hands, and Rusty pushed off toward her. “I think he's got a point. Rusty, would you like to live like a queen?” She gathered Rusty into her arms, gathered in the precious memories of her children's faces, as they handed her the gifts of love. She felt her throat tighten against more words, wondering what payment would be demanded next of them; knowing that whatever the emotional price was, they must pay it, if it would buy this ship's passage home to Morningside. She saw sharp sorrow on Bird Alyn's face; saw Bird Alyn struggle to hide it, as she hid her own. “Besides … we haven't been able to think of anything else that wouldn't give us away. Any equipment we tried to trade would be obvious as coming from outside the system. We'll be taking enough of a risk as it is.”

“I know.” Clewell looked down. “You're the captain.”

“Yes, I am.” Betha pulled herself down to the control panel, tired of arguing, tired of postponing the inevitable. There was no choice, there was only one thing that mattered—saving this ship—and she must never forget it.… She watched the latest surveillance readouts, not seeing them. The Ranger was well within Demarchy space now. They had detected dozens of asteroids and heavy radio traffic. They had identified Mecca, the largest distillery, eight million kilometers away, with a closing velocity of ten kilometers per second—only hours of flight time for the Ranger. But it would take the Lansing 04 two weeks, decelerating every meter of the way, to close the distance-and- velocity gap between them and Mecca. Her stomach tightened at the prospect; the extra shielding they had put on board the Lansing ship cut the radiation levels to one-sixth of what they had been, but the readings were still too high. And yet if the Ranger came any closer to an inhabited area, the risk of detection would be too great.

The road to Morning
Is cut from mourning,
And paved with broken dreams.…

“I'm going to Mecca, Pappy,” she said at last. “I'm going to get us our ticket home.”

Clewell sat firmly in his seat as Bird Alyn floated free above his head. They watched together while the Lansing 04, a battered tin can with a reactor tied to its tail, fell away into the bottomless night. He looked back from the darkness to Bird Alyn's face, her own dark eyes still fixed on the screen. “I'm glad you're here. There's too much—emptiness on this ship, alone.”

She blinked self-consciously, her arms moving like bird wings as she turned toward him in the air. Her eyes rarely met his, or anyone's; as if she was afraid of seeing her own image reflected there. “I wish—I wish she hadn't