— until the sight of the young Officer dying alone had cut through his carefully maintained patience,
Doav seemed calm now, accepting; he returned Rees’s gaze with a nod. Rees extended his hand. The Officer gripped it firmly.
The two of them faced their tormentors.
Now a few young men climbed onto the beam, egged on by their companions. Rees fended off their clubs with his forearm, but he was forced to retreat, inch by inch.
Under his bare feet he felt an edge of metal, the coldness of empty air.
But someone was moving through the crowd.
Pallis had followed Decker through the mob, watching the deference the big man was accorded with some amusement. At the wall Decker said. “So now we have two heroes. Eh?”
Laughter rippled.
“Don’t you think this is a waste, though?” Decker mused loudly. “You — Rees, is it? — we were going to keep you here. We need good muscles; there’s enough work to be done. Now this stupidity of yours is going to leave us short, I’ll tell you what. You. The Officer.” Decker beckoned. “Come down and join the rest of the cowards over there.” There was a rumble of dissent: Decker let it pass, then said softly: “Of course, this is just my suggestion. Is the will of the Committee opposed?”
Of course not. Pallis smiled.
“Come, lad.”
Doav turned uncertainly to Rees. Rees nodded and pushed him gently toward the Platform. The Officer walked gingerly along the beam and stepped down to the deck; he passed through the crowd toward the Scientists, enduring sly punches and kicks.
Rees was left alone.
“As for the mine rat—” An anticipatory roar rose from the crowd. Decker raised his hands for silence. “As for him I can think of a much tougher fate than jumping off that plate. Let’s send him back to the Belt! He’s going to need all his heroism to face the miners he ran out on—”
His words were drowned by a shout of approval; hands reached out and hauled Rees from the beam.
Pallis murmured, “Decker, if I thought it would mean anything I’d thank you.”
Decker ignored his words. “Well, pilot; will you fly your tree as the Committee request?”
Pallis folded his arms. “I’m a pilot, Decker; not a gaoler.”
Decker raised his eyebrows; the scars patterned across his cheeks stretched white. “Of course it’s your choice; you’re a citizen of the Free Raft. But if you don’t take this Science rabble I don’t know how we’ll manage to keep feeding them.” He sighed with mock gravity. “At least on the Belt they might have some chance. Here, though — times are hard, you see. The kindest thing might be to throw them over that edge right now.” He regarded Pallis with empty, black eyes. “What do you say, pilot? Shall I give my young friends some real sport?”
Pailis found himself trembling. “You’re a bastard, Decker.”
Decker laughed softly.
It was time for the Scientists to board the tree. Pallis made one last tour of the rim, checking the supply modules lashed to the shaped wood.
Two Committee men pulled themselves unceremoniously through the foliage, dragging a rope behind them. One of them, young, tall and prematurely bald, nodded to him. “Good shift, pilot.”
Pailis watched coldly, not deigning to reply.
The two braced their feet on the branches, spat on their hands, and began to haul on the rope. At length a bundle of filthy cloth was dragged through the foliage. The two men dumped the bundle to one side, then removed the rope and passed it back through the foliage.
The bundle uncurled slowly. Pallis walked over to it.
The bundle was a human, a man bound hand and foot: a Scientist, to judge by the remnants of crimson braid stitched to the ragged robes. He struggled to sit up, rocking his bound arms. Pallis reached down, took the man’s collar and hauled him upright. The Scientist looked up with dim gratitude; through matted dirt Pallis made out the face of Cipse, once Chief Navigator.
The Committee men were leaning against the trunk of his tree, evidently waiting for their rope to be attached to the next “passenger.” Pallis left Cipse and walked across to them. He took the shoulder of the bald man and, with a vicious pressure, forced the Committee man to face him.
The bald man eyed him uncertainly. “What’s the problem, pilot?”
Through clenched teeth Pallis said: “I don’t give a damn what happens down there, but on my trees what I say goes. And what I say is that these men are going to board my tree with dignity.” He dug his fingers into the other’s flesh until cartilage popped.
The bald man squirmed away from his grip. “All right, damn it; we’re just doing our job. We don’t want any trouble.”
Pallis turned his back and returned to Cipse. “Navigator, welcome aboard,” he said formally. “I’d be honored if you would share my food.”
Cipse’s eyes closed and his soft body was wracked by shudders.
Slowly the flight of trees descended into the bowels of the Nebula. Before long the Belt hovered in the sky before them; gloomily Rees studied the chain of battered boxes and piping turning around the fleck of rust that was the star core. Here and there insect-like humans crawled between the cabins, and a cloud of yellowish smoke, emitted by the two foundries, hung about the Belt like a stain in the air. Numbly he worked at the fire bowls. This was a nightmare: a grim parody of his hope-filled voyage to the Raft, so many shifts ago. During his rest periods he avoided the other Scientists. They clung to each other in a tight circle around Grye and Cipse, barely talking, doing only what they were told.
These were supposed to be men of intelligence and imagination, Rees thought bitterly; but then, he reflected, their future did not exactly encourage the use of the imagination, and he did not have the heart to blame them for turning away from the world.
His only, slight, pleasure was to spend long hours at the trunk of the tree, staring across the air at the formation which hung a few hundred yards above him. Six trees turned at the corners of an invisible hexagon; the trees were in the same plane and were close enough for their leaves to brush, but such was the skill of the pilots that scarcely a twig was disturbed as they descended through miles of air. And suspended beneath the trees, in a net fixed by six thick ropes, was the boxy form of a supply machine. Rees could see the remnants of Raft deck plates still clinging to the base of the machine.
Even now the flight was a sight that lifted his heart. Humans were capable of such beauty, such great feats…
The Belt became a chain of homes and factories. Rees saw half-familiar faces turned up toward their approach like tiny buttons.
Pallis joined him at the trunk. “So it ends like this, young miner,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry.”
Rees looked at him in some surprise; the pilot’s visage was turned toward the approaching Belt, his scars flaring. “Pallis, you’ve nothing to be sorry about.”
“I’d have done you a kindness if I’d thrown you off when you first stowed away. They’ll give you a hard time down there, lad.”
Rees shrugged. “But it won’t be as hard as for the rest of them.” He jabbed a thumb toward the Scientists. “And remember I had a choice. I could have joined the revolution and stayed on the Raft.”
Pallis scratched his beard. “I’m not sure I understand why you didn’t. The Bones know I’ve no sympathy with the old system; and the way your people had been kept down must have made you burn,”
“Of course it did. But… I didn’t go to the Raft to throw fuel bombs, tree-pilot. I wanted to learn what was wrong with the world.” He smiled. “Modest, wasn’t I?”
Pallis lifted his face higher. “You were damn right to try, boy. Those problems you saw haven’t gone away.”