Raft

matched the local horizontal, surround it by a wall of glass, and so reveal a universe of spectacular views. At the inward edge was the Raft itself, tilted like some huge toy for Rees's inspection. As at the Theatre the sensation of being on a safe, flat surface gave the proximity of the vast slope a vertiginous thrill.

The space-facing edge of the platform was suspended over the Rim of the Raft, and a section of the floor was inset with sheets of glass. Rees stood over the depths of the Nebula; it felt as if he were floating in the air. He could see hundreds of stars scattered in a vast three-dimensional array, illuminating the air like mile-wide globe lamps; and at the center of the view, towards the hidden Core of the Nebula, the stars were crowded together, so that it was as if he were staring into a vast, star-walled shaft.

'Rees. I congratulate you.' Rees turned. Hol-lerbach, gaunt, unsmiling and utterly out of place in all this gaiety, stood beside him.

'Thank you, sir.'

The old Scientist leaned towards him conspirato-rially. 'Of course, I didn't doubt you'd do well from the first.'

Rees laughed. 'I can tell you I doubted it sometimes.'

'A Thousand Shifts, eh?' Hollerbach scratched his cheek. 'Well, I've no doubt you'll go much further… And in the meantime here's something for you to think about, boy. The ancients, the first Crew, didn't measure time exclusively in shifts. We know this from their records. They used shifts, yes, but they had other units: a 'day,' which was about three shifts, and a 'year,' which was about a thousand shifts. How old are you now?'

'About seventeen thousand, I believe, sir.'

'So you'd be about seventeen 'years' old, eh? Now then — what do you suppose these units, a 'day' and a 'year,' referred to?' But before Rees could answer Hollerbach raised his hand and walked off. 'Baert! So they've let you get this far despite my efforts to the contrary—'

Bowls of sweetmeats had been set out around the walls. Jaen nibbled on some fluffy substance and tugged absently at his hand. 'Come on. Isn't that enough sightseeing and science?'

Rees looked at her, the combination of wine-sim and stars leaving him quite dazed. 'Hm? You know, Jaen, the stories of our home universe notwithstanding, sometimes this seems a very beautiful place.' He grinned. 'And you don't look too bad yourself.'

She punched him in the solar plexus. 'And nor do you. Now let's have a dance.'

'What?' His euphoria evaporated. He looked past her shoulder at the whirl of dancing couples. 'Look, Jaen, I've never danced in my life.'

She clicked her tongue. 'Don't be such a coward, you mine rat. Those people are just ex-apprentices like you and me, and I can tell you one thing for sure: they won't be watching you.'

'Well…' he began, but it was too late; with a determined grip on his forearm she led him to the center of the Platform.

His head filled with memories of the unfortunate gravity dancers at the Theatre of Light and their swooping, spectacular ballet. If he lived for fifty thousand shifts he would never be able to match such grace.

Luckily this dance was nothing like that.

Young men eyed girls across a few yards of floor. Those who were dancing were enthusiastic but hardly expert; Rees watched for a few seconds, then began to imitate their rhythmic swaying.

Jaen pulled a face at him. 'That's bloody awful. But who cares?'

In the low-gee conditions — gravity here was about half its value near the Labs — the dance had a dreamy slowness. After a while Rees began to relax; and, eventually, he realized he was enjoying himself — - until his legs whisked out from under him; he clattered to the Platform with a slow bump. Jaen covered her face with one hand, suppressing giggles; a circle of laughter clustered briefly around him. He got to his feet. 'I'm sorry—'

There was a tap on his shoulder. 'So you should be.'

He turned; there, with a broad, glinting grin, stood a tall young man with the braids of a Junior Officer. 'Doav,' Rees said slowly. 'Did you trip me?'

Doav barked laughter.

Rees felt his forearm muscles bunch. 'Doav, you've been an irritation to me for the last year…'

Doav looked baffled.

'… I mean, the last thousand shifts.' And it was true; Rees could bear the constant sniping, cracks and cruelties of Doav and his like throughout his working day… but he would much prefer not to have to. And, since the incident at the Theatre, he had come to see how attitudes like Doav's were the cause of a great deal of pain and suffering on the Raft; and, perhaps, of much more to come.

The wine-sim was like blood now, pounding in his head. 'Cadet, if we've something to settle—'

Doav fixed him with a look of contempt. 'Not here. But soon. Oh, yes; soon.' And he turned his back and walked off through the throng.

Jaen thumped Rees's arm hard enough to make him flinch. 'Do you have to turn every incident into an exhibition? Come on; let's get a drink.' She stamped her way towards the bar.

'Hello, Rees.'

Rees paused, allowing Jaen to slip ahead into the crush around the bar. A thin young man stood before him, hair plastered across his scalp. He wore the black braids of Infrastructure and he regarded Rees with cool appraisal.

Rees groaned. 'Gover. I guess this isn't to be the best shift I've ever had.'

'What?'

'Never mind. I haven't seen you since not long after my arrival.'

'Yeah, but that's not hard to understand.' Gover flicked delicately at Rees's braid. 'We move in different circles, don't we?'

Rees, already on edge after the incident with Doav, studied Gover as coolly as he could. There were still the same sharp features, the look of petulant anger — but Gover looked more substantial, more sure of himself.

'So you're still skivvying for those old farts in the Labs, eh?'

'I'm not going to respond to that, Gover.'

'You're not?' Gover rubbed at his nostrils with the palm of his hand. 'Seeing you in this toy uniform made me wonder how you see yourself now. I bet you haven't done a shift's work — real work — since you landed here. I wonder what your fellow rats would think of you now. Eh?'

Rees felt blood surge once more to his cheeks; the wine-sim seemed to be turning sour. There was a seed of confusion inside him. Was his anger at Gover just a way of shielding himself from the truth, that he had betrayed his origins…?

'What do you want, Gover?'

Gover took a step closer to Rees. His stale breath cut through the wine fumes in Rees's nostrils. 'Listen, mine rat, believe it or not I want to do you a favor.'

'What kind of favor?'

'Things are changing here,' Gover said slyly. 'Do you understand what I'm saying? Things won't always be as they are now.' He eyed Rees, evidently unwilling to go further.

Rees frowned. 'What are you talking about? The discontents?'

'That's what some call them. Seekers of justice, others say.'

The noise of the revelers seemed to recede from Rees; it was as if Gover and he shared their own Raft somewhere in the air. 'Gover, I was in the Theatre of Light, that shift. Was that justice?'

Gover's eyes narrowed. 'Rees, you've seen how the elite on this Raft keep the rest of us down — and how their obscene economic system degrades the rest of the Nebula's human population. The time is near when they will have to atone.'

Rees stared at him. 'You're one of them, aren't you?'

Gover bit his lip. 'Maybe. Look, Rees, I'm taking a chance talking to you like this. And if you betray me I'll deny we ever had this conversation.'

'What do you want of me?'

'There are good men in the cause. Men like Decker, Pallis—'

Rees guffawed. Decker — the huge Infrastructure worker he had encountered on his first arrival here — he could believe. But Pallis? 'Come on, Gover.'

Gover was unruffled. 'Damn it, Rees, you know what I think of you. You're a mine rat. You don't belong