of them stared at Rees's dishevelled appearance, but most politely looked away. They were all clean and well- groomed — although there were hollow eyes and pale cheeks, as if some sickness were haunting the Raft. Men and women alike wore a kind of coverall of some fine, gray material; some wore gold braid on their shoulders or cuffs, often woven in elaborate designs. Rees glanced down at his own battered tunic — and with a jolt recognized it as an aged descendant of the garments of the Raft population. So miners wore Raft cast-offs ?
He wondered what Sheen would say about that…
Two small boys were standing before him, gazing with round eyes at his dingy tunic. Rees, horribly embarrassed, hissed to Gover: 'What are we waiting for? Can't we move on?'
Gover swivelled his head and fixed Rees with a look of dull contempt.
Rees tried to smile at the boys. They just stared.
Now there was a soft, rushing sound from the center of the Raft. Rees, with some relief, stepped out into the thoroughfare, and he made out the bizarre sight of a row of faces sliding towards him above the crowd. Gover stepped forward and held up a hand. Rees watched him curiously—
— and the rushing grew to a roar. Rees turned to see the blunt prow of a Mole bearing down on him. He stumbled back; the speeding cylinder narrowly missed his chest. The Mole rolled to a halt a few yards from Gover and Rees. A row of simple seats had been fixed to the upper surface of the Mole; people rode in them, watching him incuriously.
Rees found his mouth opening and closing. He had expected some wonderful sights on the Raft, but — this? The little boys' mouths were round with astonishment at his antics. Gover was grinning. 'What's the matter, mine rat? Never seen a bus before?' The apprentice walked up to the Mole and, with a practiced swing, stepped up into a vacant seat.
Rees shook his head and hurried after the apprentice. There was a low shelf around the base of the Mole; Rees stepped onto it and turned cautiously, lowering himself into the seat next to Gover's — and the Mole jolted into motion. Rees tumbled sideways, clinging to chair arms; he had to wriggle around until he was facing outwards, and at last found himself gliding smoothly above the heads of the throng.
The boys ran after the Mole, shouting and waving; Rees did his best to ignore them, and after a few yards they tired and gave up.
Rees stared frankly at the man next to him, a thin, middle-aged individual with a sheaf of gold braid at his cuff. The man studied him with an expression of disdain, then moved almost imperceptibly to the far side of his seat.
He turned to Gover. 'You call me a 'mine rat.' What exactly is a 'rat'?'
Gover sneered. 'A creature of old Earth. A vermin, the lowest of the low. Have you heard of Earth? It's the place we—' he emphasized the word ' — came from.'
Rees thought that over; then he studied the machine he was riding. 'What did you call this thing?'
Gover looked at him with mock pity. 'This is a bus, mine rat. Just a little something we have here in the civilized world.'
Rees studied the lines of the cylinder under its burden of furniture and passengers. It was a Mole all right; there were the scorch marks showing where — something — had been cut away. On an impulse he leaned over and thumped the surface of the 'bus' with his fist. 'Status!'
Gover studiously ignored him. Rees was aware of his thin neighbor regarding him with curious disgust—
— and then the bus reported loudly, 'Massive sensor dysfunction.'
The voice had sounded from somewhere under the thin man; he jumped and stared open-mouthed at the seat beneath him.
Gover looked at Rees with a grudging interest. 'How did you do that?'
Rees smiled, relishing the moment. 'Oh, it was nothing. You see, we have — ah — buses where I come from too. I'll tell you about it some time.'
And with a delicious coolness he settled back to enjoy the ride.
The journey lasted only a few minutes. The bus paused frequently, passengers alighting and climbing aboard at each stop.
They passed abruptly out of the mass of cables and slid over a clear expanse of deck. Unimpeded Nebula light dazzled Rees. When he looked back the cables were like a wall of textured metal hundreds of feet tall, topped by discs of foliage.
The nose of the bus began to rise.
At first Rees thought it was his imagination. Then he noticed the passengers shifting in their seats; and still the tilt increased, until it seemed to Rees that he was about to slide back down a metal slope to the cables.
He shook his head tiredly. He had had enough wonders for one shift. If only Gover would give him a few hints about what was going on—
He closed Ms eyes. Come on, think it through, he told himself. He thought of the Raft as he had seen it from above. Had it looked bowl-shaped? No, it had been flat all the way to the Rim; he was sure of that. Then what?
Fear shot through him. Suppose the Raft was falling! Perhaps the cables on a thousand trees had snapped; perhaps the Raft was tipping over, spilling its human cargo into the pit of air—
He snorted as with a little more thought he saw it. The bus was climbing out of the Raft's gravity well, which was deepest at the structure's center, If the bus's brakes failed now it would roll back along the plane in from the Rim towards the Raft's heart…just as if it were roiling downhill. In reality the Raft was, of course,
When the slope had risen to one in one the bus shuddered to a halt. A set of steps had been fixed to the deck alongside the bus's path; they led to the very Rim. The passengers jumped down. 'You stay there,' Gover told Rees; and he set off after the others up the shallow stairs.
Fixed almost at the Rim was the huge, silhouetted form of what must be a supply machine. The passengers formed a small queue before it.
Rees obediently remained in his seat. He longed to examine the device at the Rim. But there would be another shift, time and fresh energy to pursue that.
It would be nice, though, to walk to the edge and peer into the depths of the Nebula… Perhaps he might even glimpse the Belt.
One by one the passengers returned to the bus bearing supply packets, like those which Pallis had brought to the Belt. The last passenger thumped the nose of the bus; the battered old machine lurched into motion and set off down the imaginary slope.
Pallis's cabin was a simple cube partitioned into three rooms: there was an eating area, a living room with seats and hammocks, and a cleaning area with a sink, toilet and shower head. Pallis had changed into a long, heavy robe. The garment's breast bore a stylized representation of a tree in the green braid which Rees had come to recognize as the badge of Pallis's woodsman Class. He told Rees and Gover to clean themselves up. When it was Rees's turn he approached the gleaming spigots with some awe; he barely recognized the clean, sparkling stuff that emerged as water.
Pallis prepared a meal, a rich meat-sim broth. Rees sat cross-legged on the cabin floor and ate eagerly. Gover sat in a chair wrapped in his customary silence.
Pallis's home was free of decoration save for two items in the living area. One was a cage constructed of woven slats of wood, suspended from the ceiling; within it five or six young trees hovered and fizzed, immature branches whirling. They filled the room with motion and the scent of wood. Rees saw how the skitters, one or two adorned with bright flowers, fizzed towards the cabin lights, bumping in soft frustration against the walls of their cage. 'I let them out when they're too big,' Pallis told Rees. 'They're just — company, I suppose. You know, there are some who bind up these babies with wire to stunt their growth, distort their shapes. I can't envisage doing that. No matter how attractive the result.'
The other item of decoration was a photograph, a portrait of a woman. Such things weren't unknown in the Belt — the ancient, fading images were handed down through families like shabby heirlooms — but this portrait was fresh and vivid. With Pallis's permission Rees picked it up—
— and with a jolt he recognized the smiling face.
