"He's won twelve Hugos," Fang said.
For one glorious minute I thought I understood them-
Crazy Eddie raised his hand and waved it. "I've got an idea."
Bruce looked worried, but nodded at him. "The Chair recognizes Eddie Two Bats."
Crazy Eddie stood and looked across his blade-like nose. "There are still technophiles in Southern California," he said. "Enclaves clustered around the old, defunct aerospace centers. I say we take the Angels there."
There were nods of agreement. "Makes sense," said Steve. "Angels would be welcomed there. Some places."
"That's right, you still live down there," Fang said. "Do you ever get to the Denny's on--"
Bruce tapped his ring on the desk. "Edward Two Bats has the floor."
"I bet it would work!" Sherrine said.
Crazy Eddie nodded vigorously. "Damned straight! Then, after building our strength, we stage a coup! Take over in Sacramento, install the Angels as symbolic governors, and devote the State's resources to building a space shuttle to take them home again."
"So the question is how to get them to California," Bruce said.
"The Angels have to go underground," Fang said. "Work off the books. Doesn't pay so well as out front, but with no taxes you keep more, and nobody checks ID and credit cards." He and Thor exchanged glances. "It ain't so bad."
For a moment Alex felt panic. Then he realized that they took the good parts of Crazy Eddie's ideas and simply ignored the rest. And we don't have many choices anyway. "You're used to living underground," Sherrine said. "They're not. Look at them! No, I'll do something--"
"The Greens lynched a hacker in Chicago," Mike said carefully. "Last month, but I think the boy's still hanging from the old Water Tower. Of course you know that."
"That was Flash. Flash couldn't resist letting his friends know what he did. So I'm more careful, that's all," Sherrine said.
"No, we can't let you risk that," Alex said. " I mean--"
"Work underground, off books," Mike said. "Great. What can you do?"
Alex grunted. "I fly spaceships."
Bruce grinned. "Right. We'll send out your resume. But what did you do between flights?"
"I write poetry," Gordon said. "I would like to write science fiction."
"So would everyone here," Steve said. "Do you know how many people make a living writing science fiction? There weren't thirty in the whole country, at peak. Now, none."
"There's Harry Bean--" someone said.
"He's a whore. He writes for the Greens," Bruce said. "Odd jobs. Alex? What can you do besides fly ships?"
"Construction engineer." He looked at his emaciated limbs. "And if Steve's right, I'll be able to do that again in about nine years."
"He is also teacher," Gordon said.
"Kindergarten. I was a day-care father," Alex admitted. The main advantage of the truth was that you didn't have to remember a lot of details. There were other advantages, too, he supposed.
Sherrine looked at him closely. Now she knows.
Thor shook his head. "Too bad. They do background checks on day-care workers, ever since the witch hunts. Even the centers who pay 'off the books' have to be careful. Lot of work for Sherrine, and you sure can't do that until she sets it up."
In the lengthy silence that followed, everyone looked at each other, but no one said anything. Finally Sherrine sighed.
"I'm not sure I can do it," she said. "Thor's right, they're paranoid about child molesters. I'd have to build you a whole history, everything, traffic tickets, education--Look, it won't work. We can't fit them in, and we can't hide them." Fan and Thor started to object, but Sherrine overrode them. "We've just been over that. Short term, sure; but sooner or later they'd be discovered. No, there's only one option, and it took Crazy Eddie to find it. We've got to find a way to get them back into space."
"We?" said Bruce.
"Sure, Fandom!"
Mike beamed. "Of course. We'll get them high with illegal droogs."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Black Powder and Alcohol…"
"You're going to send us back to space," Alex said.
"Perhaps I don't wish to go," Gordon said.
"Shut up. Look, with all great respect, how do you propose to do this? As far as I know, the only rockets left on Earth are military missiles." And I can't see sticking one up my arse and riding it out--
"Exactly! We hide out until we build strength and take over in Sacramento. Then--"
"There's a Saturn Five in Houston." Fang asked, "Will that do?"
Alex blinked and tried to sit up. "Saturn? Damn right." With a Saturn we could reach the moon. But--I didn't know there were any left."
"There aren't," Bruce said. "NASA took a full man-rated Saturn and laid it down as a monument. Alex, that bird will never fly again."
"Oh."
"It's right in front of the old Manned Space Center," Mike said. "Leetle hard to work on without attracting attention."
"Could steal it," Crazy Eddie said.
Bruce closed his eyes. "Steal it, Eddie? Do you know how big those suckers were?"
"Three hundred and sixty three feet high. Weighed three kilotons."
Bruce spoke patiently. "And you say we should steal it?"
"If we could round up enough pickup trucks," Eddie Two Bats said thoughtfully. "Of course it will be hard to stand it up again. I think we need an engineer."
"I see how it works," Alex said quietly to Sherrine.
"How?"
"It's Crazy Eddie's job to come up with nutty ideas, and Bruce's job to chop him down. Do any of Eddie's notions ever work?"
She shrugged.
"I could cry."
She frowned. "Over Crazy Eddie?"
"No, the rocket. The Saturn Five was the most powerful rocket ever built--Sherrine, it was the most powerful machine ever made!"
"A fire in the sky," she said. "I know the song."
"And now it's a lawn ornament."
"I'm sorry," she said. "Monument! They didn't want competition for the shuttle. They even tried to burn the blueprints--"
"It wasn't your fault."
"I know that, but I'm sorry. Sorry that anyone could ever have been so stupid. And that was NASA! We gave the space program to NASA, and they, and… Damn."
"Does anyone else have an idea?" Bruce asked. "No? Then we carry on as before. The fewer who know about the Angels, the safer they'll be. Don't tell anyone without consulting me. The cover is that they're closet fans from North Dakota, people Fang and Thor have known for years. All agreed? Good. So ordered. Do I hear a motion to adjourn? Meeting is adjourned. Next meeting is in Hawkeye's room about nine. Now it's time to enjoy the convention."
The room had perhaps been a small ballroom when the house was new. Now it looked crowded despite its size. There were windows along one wall, with couches under them. The window sills were covered with brick-a-brack, photos of people in odd costumes, strangely painted coffee mugs, vases that held improbable plants. That fur rug, patterned in yellow and orange, was neither the shape nor the colors of any of Earth's life forms. A grand piano stood down at one end of the room. It was covered with photographs and paintings and drawings and plastic objects. Books lined two of the walls, and the spaces between the large archways set into the fourth wall.
A large bear of a man with a sunburst of hair encircling his face stood next to the grand piano, one hand resting on it. He was making a speech, and his free hand waved in time with his words. Other people were talking, too, which seemed impolite.
The man stopped in midsentence when Sherrine and Thor wheeled the Angels into the room. People looked around and opened a path, some of those on the floor moving aside, some standing to move chairs, until Alex and Gordon were moved right up front near the speaker. The others moved back again. It looked choreographed.