"Of course."

"We have some shipments to be taken to the Belt. We need you to lead the flight."

"Shipments? Of what?"

Decker nodded toward the huddle of Scientists. "That lot for a start. Labor for the mine. Most of them anyway; we'll keep the young, healthy ones."

"Very noble.»

"And you're to take a supply machine."

Pallis frowned. "You're giving the Belt one of our machines?"

"If you read your history you'll find they have a right, you know."

"Don't talk to roe about history, Decker. What's the angle?"

Decker pursed his lips. "The upswelling of popular affection on this Raft for our brothers on the Belt is, shall we say, not to be opposed at present by the prudent man."

"So you're pleasing the crowd. But if the Raft loses its economic advantage over the Belt you'll lose out too."

Decker smiled. "I'll make that leap when I come to it. It's a long flight to the Belt, Pallis; you know that as well as anybody. And a lot can happen between here and there."

"You'd deliberately lose one of our machines? By the Bones, Decker—"

"I didn't say that, old friend. All I meant was that the transportation of a machine by a tree — or a fleet of trees — is an enormous technical challenge for your woodsmen."

Pallis nodded. Decker was right, of course; you'd have to use a flight of six or seven trees with the machine suspended between them. He'd need his best pilots to hold the formation all the way to the Belt… names and faces passed through his thoughts…

And Decker was grinning at him. Pallis frowned, irritated. All a man like Decker had to do was throw him an interesting problem and everything else went out of his head.

Decker turned to watch the activities of his co-revolutionaries.

The young Officer had been pushed a good yard beyond the glass wall. Tears mingled with the Hood caked over his cheeks and, as Pallis watched, the lad's bladder released; a stain gushed around his crotch, causing the crowd to roar.

"Decker—"

"I can't save him," Decker said firmly. "He won't discard his braids."

"Good for him."

"He's a suicidal idiot."

Now a figure broke out of the ranks of cowering Scientists. It was a young, dark man. He cried: "No!" and, scarred fists flailing, he launched himself at the backs of the crowd. The Scientist soon disappeared under a hail of fists and boots; at last he too was thrust, bloodied and torn, onto the beam. And through the fresh bruises, dirt and growth of beard, Pallis realized with a start that he recognized the impetuous young man.

"Rees," he breathed.

Rees faced the baying, upturned faces, head ringing from the blows he had taken. Over the heads of the crowd he could see the little flock of Scientists and Officers; they clung together, unable even to watch his death.

The Officer leaned close and shouted through the noise. "I ought to thank you, mine rat."

"Don't bother, Doav. It seems I'm not ready yet to watch a man die alone. Not even you."

Now fists and clubs came prodding toward them. Rees took a cautious step backwards. Had he traveled so far, learned so much… only for it to end like this?

… He recalled the time of revolution, the moment he had faced Gover outside the Bridge. As he had sat among the Scientists, signifying where his loyalties lay, Gover spat on the deck and turned his back.

Hollerbach had hissed: "You bloody young idiot. What do you think you are doing? The important thing is to survive… If we don't resume our work, a revolution every other shift won't make a damn bit of difference."

Rees shook his head. There was logic in Hol-lerbach's words — but surely there were some things more important than mere survival. Perhaps when he was Holleibach's age he would see things differently…

As the shifts had worn away he had been deprived of food, water, shelter and sleep, and had been forced to work on basic deck maintenance tasks with the most primitive of tools. He had suffered the successive indignities in silence, waiting for this darkness to clear from the Raft.

But the revolution had not failed. At last his group had been brought here; he suspected that some or all of them were now to be selected for some new trial. He had been prepared to accept his destiny—

— 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.