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Nobody wanted to say it, so they all looked at each other until
Jenny Trout said, "What good is that?"
"I don't get much chance to explain this. We have here a
prototype, and it isn't the whole thing. When we were doing the
planning, I took the most optimistic assumptions. Why not? But
the FAA had some rules that apply to airplanes. My stockholders
wanted a heavier heat shield. The landing, legs- "
"Landing legs? Sorry," Alex said. "Of course it has to land. I'm
too used dippers."
"Sure. Phoenix comes down on its own tail fire, just like all the
old Analog covers, just like the LEM. I made the legs so slender it
won't stand up unless the fuel tanks are dead empty. But they still
have to take a recoil, and my stockholders wanted them beefed
up." Hudson's bony shoulders rose and fell. "Everything got just a
little heavier.
"But, dammit! I'd have put a bigger cabin on the real thing.
It'd fire passengers halfway around the world in under two hours.
Every president of every company or country would want one. And
with the zero stage it could have reached geosynchronous orbit,
and that would have been . . ."
Nobody had said anything about a "zero stage." Alex was
about to comment when Hudson went on. "The zero stage would
have been cheap as dirt. Same fuel and oxygen tanks, same pump
system, same legs- because of course it lands independently! Half
again as many motors and no heat shield. You could serve a dozen
Phoenixes with two lousy Zeros because they recycle so fast."
"So where is our zero stage?"
"It paid the lawyers for awhile, and then I was bankrupt. The
Greens sued me. Poking holes in the ozone layer, yada yada."
Hudson shook his head violently. "Sorry. Way off the subject. You
want to know what you need now."
C.C. said, "Yeah. You can't get to orbit?"
"I can barely get into an elliptical orbit with the low end eighty
miles up. The atmosphere pulls it down fast. But another ship could
rendezvous and boost it the rest of the way. That must be what
you were planning with the Titan, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. What else do we need?"
"Quite a lot- "
"Will these help?" Bob Needleton held out a package wrapped
in foil. "Cole said these are the ROMs."
Gary took the package. "That's a spare set, but yeah, after all
these years it's worth doing a program comparison."
"And we brought you the fuel to make the fuel," Sherrine said.
And- fans have been collecting things to go up with the Angels.
Seeds, chemicals, supplies, all kinds of things- "
"All that stuff isn't coming up here!" Hudson exclaimed.
"No, no, it's going to a safe place in Los Angeles," Miller said.
"We'll bring whatever's needed from there."
Hudson nodded.
"Can- may we see the ship?" Barbara Dinsby asked. She was
holding tightly onto Gordon's hand.
Hudson sighed. "Yeah, sure." He led them into the hangar and
turned on the lights.
"God, that's beautiful," Jenny said. "Beautiful. Starfire!"
Alex walked slowly over to the ship. He ran his hands along
the sides, then stooped to look up into the engine chambers. When
he stood again his face had changed.
"You can fly it, Alex?" Gordon asked.
"It doesn't need a pilot," Alex said. "It's up to Mr. Hudson, I
think. But it's clear someone has been taking care of this ship. He
looked up at the roof scaffolding. "Does that open?"
"Just once," Gary said.
"Once is all we need," Alex said. He looked straight at Hudson.
"Commander Hopkins- our leader in the habitats- I'll start over.
We thought it would be pointless to say anything to Lonny Hopkins
about spaceships. Now . . . does he have a decision to make? Do I
call him? I wouldn't want to unless this was all real."
"Let me think about it," Gary said.
"Don't think too long," C.C. Miller said.
Gary frowned at him.
"We heard from Ted Johnstone in Phoenix. He works for the
Highway Department. The police are looking for milk trucks. They're
being real quiet about it, but they're looking."
"Oh, shit," Fang said.
"The church," Harry said. "That's- "
"That's fine," Jenny said. "So first thing is we get the damn
trucks under cover, right? Looks like there's room in here."
"Actually, there's a garage made for tanker trucks," Gary said.
"I'll show you." He turned toward the door, then turned back. "Hell,
I don't know why I'm stalling. I've been waiting for this all my life.
Major MacLeod, you can tell your boss that with any luck we'll be
launching you within a week."
Three fans had wheeled the scaffold up to the Phoenix.
Hudson climbed up to the door, used a key, tried to open it.
By then Alex was up there with him, climbing barefooted,
using his toes. He felt no gut-fear climbing this spiderweb of metal,
but he didn't trust gravity. He set himself and pulled alongside
Hudson, and the oval plug-shaped door swung back.
Three heads poked in: Gary, Alex, Gordon. And a fourth:
Sherrine. Sherrine said, "Four."
There were four seats, two with control consoles, two without.
There were tanks, and bracing struts, and oxygen lines. Hudson
waved and pointed and lectured. "We were set for up to a month in
orbit. A lot of this could come out, because we don't need that
much oxygen. I could have got another couple of seats in. Of
course I don't have the seats, but that's no sweat. Glue in an
exercise mat and two, pillows for knees and head, that's all it would
take. It's a matter of what cargo you're willing to give up."
"Four." Gordon scowled. "I should be reassured that it will not
shrink by more yet."
Alex said, "After Chicago, after Titan, I wouldn't have believed
this much. Gordon, by God, we can get home again!"
"Da."
The stilyagin's enthusiasm left something to be desired. No
seat for Barbara? Others must stay, too . . . but Gordon wouldn't
meet Alex's eyes.
They sat in the large workroom outside Hudson's office. In better
times a dozen engineers would have sat at the desks and drafting
tables there. C.C. Miller had his notebook and was ready to make a
list. "All right. Dr. Hudson, what do we have to do now?"
"Details," Gary said. "First things first. We clean out the tanks.
The hydrogen tank won't need a lot of work, but there's a fair
amount of work to clean the oxygen tank. We'll need alcohol."
"Alcohol," Miller said. "What kind?"
"Anything would work, but since there will be people working in
that tank, we'll want ethanol so we don't poison them."
C.C. wrote it down on his list.
"How much alcohol?" Harry asked.
"Gallons."
"Gallons." Harry shook his head. "All right. I'll see what I can
do." He grinned. "Going to be the first time I ever convinced LASFS
that they ought to buy me enough to drink. God knows I've tried."
"How many people do we need?" C.C. Miller asked. "To clean
the tanks, other stuff?"
"Well, maybe ten," Gary said. "Moving scaffolds, just standing
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