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32

The trouble with a nanny state is that in the long run you're only going to have people who need a nanny. When you're pushing the frontiers you need attitude. Space is not for wimps. People who like danger-sports are not fools, nor, despite the risks we take, do we die often. That's because we learn PDQ what a nanny deprives humans of. Personal assessment. Learn it, learn it fast, or deck it.


Jean-Marie Signy, from her address to the Icarus cooperative founding meeting.

 

There were just four of them this time. Howard, Lani and two flier "apprentices"—no one who was in the least agoraphobic. From an early age, the fliers had all visited a lock that allowed a deep-space view, so a billion miles of nothingness was no shock to them. They also had a simple jet-pack—much less wasteful than venting oxygen—to "fly" the gap, and a reel of thin but strong cord and several powerful magnets with loops of cord. The fliers wanted to set up a Tyrolean traverse, whatever that was, and save fuel. They had major expansion projects that were just seventy-nine years off, and they weren't planning on being prodigal about their resources.

That was something Howard could admire about the Icarans. Actually, he found quite a lot to admire in them. Four hundred years was a long time to nurture a dream, to keep it fresh and strong. And their fabrication works were a place he could have been happy to fiddle in every day.

Crossing the gap, even while unspooling the line, was much faster this time. And they could all shriek with glee without offending anyone.

There was just one problem when they got to the next habitat. The craft Kretz had so painstakingly described to him . . . 

Was conspicuous by its absence.

"And now?" asked Lani. "There is definitely nothing but standard walkways here."

Kretz's worried voice came over the radio. "It is possible that Derfel may have moved it. I suspect he may have been listening in . . . I suppose he could have dumped it into space. I do not believe that it could be taken into a habitat airlock."

"So what do we do now?" asked Lani. "Kretz's companion is stuck inside there. His ship isn't here and he hasn't got the air to come himself. Do we go in and deal with the perps, just the four of us? Howard is an army by himself, but he's a pacifist, you know. And, meaning no offense, but a stiff breeze will blow you flyboys away."

Howard's eyes narrowed. "We go on to the airlock, Lani. I need to see if I'm right."

They did—and found that the airlock would not open. Howard nodded thoughtfully. "I think we need to stop broadcasting on this radio device. Little pitchers have big ears. I believe that we can touch helmets and talk."

Lani knew him well enough to trust him implicitly. She toggled the radio off and touched helmets. "I don't suppose you wanted to tell me you loved me, privately," she said.

Talking through the helmets wasn't that effective. It was more like lip-reading. But she understood "other airlock."

It did make sense, she supposed. Unless the alien had left his "kingdom" completely, he had to have gotten back in. He could have still blocked the airlock after he did that, though. There was a trifling matter of a hundred-and-fifty-meter-high equatorial ridge between them and the next airlock. On the other hand, they had a long cable and some folk who liked to fly, even if they couldn't get into the ladder access. With all of them doing the trip at that speed—without having to lead Amber or any other panicky people—they had the air reserve to try.

It was a long way up and out, still. And there wouldn't be many reserves if they got it wrong. They began to climb up the bars enclosing the outside of the ladder. After a brief while the flyboy motioned that he wanted to turn on the radios. "Too slow," he said. "Give me the jetpack and you anchor here and feed cord."

Minutes later they had a line to the top. And the flyboy said cheerfully—obviously understanding the need to talk in riddles on the radio—"Jackpot!"

They "flew" over the ridge. That was scary, when you considered the fragility of that line. It was all very well knowing that the fabricators claimed that it had a ton and half breaking strain and that they needed the stretch-factor. Lani even understood why, but still, it was a thin cord between her and nothingness. She was glad to get back inside the bars of the walkways and back on her feet.

She was even more pleased to find out that the far airlock could be opened. They stopped there, to change air cylinders for fresh ones and also to talk—without the possibility of eavesdroppers.

"There is a chance he's booby-trapped the lifecraft, you know," said Lani, worriedly. "It's what I'd have done."

"We'll just have to look carefully," said Howard.

"That's all very well," said Lani skeptically. "Of course we can look for wires or such things . . . but electronic traps?"

Howard shrugged. "We will just have to trust in God. However we must also prevent this airlock resealing when we go."

"Why? I mean . . . that's dangerous to the people inside," said one of the fliers.

Howard nodded. "On the other hand, we don't want this one sealed against us too, and we don't want Kretz's craft lost, before we can get him here. The mad Miran may just decide to finally dispose of it. I know from prior experience that even a small obstacle will prevent the other door from being opened. Air leakage—if it happened—would be very slow. And we are planning to return, soon."

"But what would make the nutbag do anything like that?"

"We may need radio comms with Kretz when we get there, and we'll have to return to him with a rebreather unit—if this Derfel has not removed them."

"Okay. I don't like it," said the birdie-woman. "It's not space-safe. But I see your logic, I suppose."

"I don't like it either," admitted Howard. "But I have learned, in the course of this journey, that we have to do some things that we don't want to. The Miran who is in there is mad, and when he changes sex he will become homicidally mad. Kretz will die if we don't take these steps. His friends trapped in here and on the other ship need him. There are risks. But . . . Kretz has kept the faith with them. Our species has tried to kill him, imprisoned him, placed every obstacle in his path. He still has kept trying. Can we do less for him? This is a simple, relatively low risk act, if bad practice. It's a pragmatic step to make sure that his lifecraft is here, undamaged, when he gets here."

"You're a hopeless idealist, not a pragmatist," said the birdie-woman, grinning and shaking her head. "What do you intend to use?"

"This wire?"

She shook her head. "Might damage the seal."

"What about a piece of cloth?" offered Lani.

"That would be ideal if you've got something that you feel you can spare."

Thus it was that access was secured by a pair of panties Lani hadn't seen much point in anyway.

They approached the squat angular shape of the alien lander with trepidation. It did nothing, which they found quite worrying enough. Careful examination found a thin cable across the gangway. Lani cracked radio silence. "Kretz. Talk to us about Miran booby traps."

His voice came across the ether. "I have considered this since the ship was moved. The best answer is that there is an emergency exit on the upper surface, just behind the forward window. I think you could gain access there. It has a slitlike handle you turn clockwise. It is quite small."

"Out," said Lani.

They had to use Howard as a ladder. Fortunately, he made a good one, sturdy and very obliging about using his hands as rungs. Unfortunately, he also had delusions that he would go into Kretz's ship, just in case there were traps. It was a good thing that the emergency exit was just too small for him, or the argument might have wasted more air.

Lani felt very isolated when the little door closed above her; a few moments later she became the first human to walk inside an alien ship. It was remarkably like a dark, metal-walled human-built corridor might have been. Mindful of Kretz's irritating don't-touch-anything lecture—What did he think they were? Primitives?—she resisted the very human desire to explore and just concentrated on getting back down to the inner main door, where Kretz said the spare air cylinders for his rebreather were stored. With two of them in hand—just in case—she set off back, carefully not disturbing the tripod and possible weapon arrangement just inside the door. Howard was waiting anxiously to haul her out.

Then it was just a long spacewalk back.

 

By the time they returned, Kretz was in a ferment of worry and guilt. Indecisive worry and guilt. What should he do? Had he sent a being—who had become a friend—to his death? Would he be able to help those who depended on him? Should he have tried a human suit, even if his feet would never have fitted into the boots? It was difficult to imagine getting anything remotely close to a fit, but should he have tried? Should he have let the engineers in this place loose on his existing tank to see if they could refill it?

He was almost furious to see them back, smiling and laughing. With this came a realization. They were no longer friendly aliens. They'd become the same as any other Miran in the way he perceived them—and it was apparent that Howard and Lani viewed him in much the same way. They put their arms around him.

 

Howard suddenly realized what he was doing. Holding a woman, and an alien thing—as if it was the most natural thing to do.

And then he realized that it was. "It's nearly over," he said regretfully. "We have your air tanks, and we'll have you back to your lifecraft in a short time."

He squeezed Kretz's shoulder "And you know what? I am going to miss you, Brother Kretz." He smiled. "To think that I was devastated to be chosen to go with you. Now . . . I don't know that I can go back. At least, not to stay. I'd like to go and open a few blind eyes. But it would be strange to worry about tomato-yields after this. I have seen space, I have read other books, which are not about religion. I have seen that other people work metals and make things without being cast into exile or worrying about hellfire."

"You are a rather different human than the man who worried about this female," said Kretz, looking at Lani. "What was it that you called her again, when you first met?"

"A painted Jezebel," admitted Howard. "I behaved like a narrow-minded fool, looking back, and got us into a lot of unnecessary trouble. Mind you, I still worry about her. And about myself. But I am beginning to accept that the Brethren have tried to make God into a very narrow image of man, instead of man being created in the image of God. Man was created in the image of someone loving, omnipotent and omni-cognizant, that understands human frailty and differences better than we can. We must try to include, not to exclude."

"He talks like this from time to time," said Lani, giving Kretz's opposite shoulder a squeeze. "I don't understand him either, Kretz. I think I'm in love with an alien too."

At least she sounded very happy about it.

"I think I do understand him . . . at least in part, Lani," said Kretz. "And I did promise that I would return Howard to his home habitat. I should be able to do that, easily, if you want me to?"

"We hadn't really decided," admitted Howard. "I . . . wish to stay with Lani. To marry her. Marriage in the eyes of the church is important to me."

"We're staying together," said Lani firmly, "it's just a matter of where. We can't go back to the Matriarchy, even if we wanted to. We can't go to the uThani's habitat, really. They don't want us. And Howard is too heavy to ever really be a flier, so that leaves New Eden."

"Which would not be kind to Lani," admitted Howard. "And I do not know how they would deal with a man who had used a weapon to commit the sin of Cain."

"You had to shoot him, Howard," said Lani.

"I could live with not being able to fly," said Howard, smiling.

"Well, the truth is, we don't know if we are welcome here. Amber, uh . . . is. But what do we do here? Everyone works, everyone trains from very young to be something. They don't really have much use for an ex-cop and farmer. So . . . we're still thinking. I think it'll have to be New Eden for us two. And the uThani obviously want to go home."

Amber came over to them, hand in hand with her partner. "There is food ready. What are you lot plotting? How to get Kretz's other companion out of the next habitat? I've been giving that some thought."

"Uh, no. Howard and I were talking about . . . where we would live, after we got Kretz to his spacecraft," said Lani.

"Forgive me, Brother Kretz," said Howard. "I had forgotten about your companion."

He'd been with them for long enough to know the signs that Kretz was discomforted too. "I . . . do not see how we can rescue him."

"We cannot just abandon him," said Howard. "He is alone and desperate, as you were, Kretz."

Kretz nodded slowly. "But there is Selna too. I am torn. And . . . well, I have learned in traveling through these habitats that humans are quite capable of stopping me, even if I were armed with more than this automatic shotgun. I don't think I can rescue him. I do not see how."

"It's a good thing that I do, then," said Amber. She tapped her portable. "I think I can log into their computer system. The uThani's system did me a favor with their data-theft. They left some signs, and talking with the computer geeks here, we've got a very good idea of the access codes for the basic programming level. I think we should be able to get access to theirs. We should be able to work out routes to get there in secret. We might even be able to get in, in secret."

"She's too clever for her own good," said Zoë, smugly.

Amber blushed. "I got tired of the idea of Earth's computer systems spying on us," she said. "Now come and eat. It's lovely fresh vat protein." She grinned. "The uThani are even less flattering about it than you were, Howard."

Howard made a face. "That is impossible."

"Oh, yeah? They say it tastes likes something a bird sicked up to feed to its chicks. They're talking serious export opportunity from their habitat. And they've burned some birds that they call parrots that they had with them."

Howard brightened perceptibly. "Those funny chickens! I wonder if they have any left. I would love to taste real food again."

"Meals are going to be interesting in this relationship," said Lani wryly.

 

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Framed