"Listen to me, Nead," he said seriously. "I appreciate the way you've volunteered for this mission—"

Nead looked at him in sudden concern. "You have to let me go," he insisted.

Rees placed a hand on Nead's shoulder. "Of course. What I'm trying to tell you is that I want to see you fix the new steam jets out there… and then return, safely. We need those jets, if we're not to fall straight into the Core of this new nebula. We don't need another dead hero."

"I understand, Rees." Nead smiled. "But what can happen? The air out there is desperately thin, but it contains oxygen, and I won't be out for long."

"Take nothing for granted. Remember our sensor instruments were constructed ages ago and in another universe, for god's sake… Even if we knew precisely what they were telling us we wouldn't know if we could rely on them working here."

Gord frowned. "Yes, but our theories back up the instrument readings. Because of the diffusion of oxygen-based life we expect most of the nebulae to consist of oxygen-nitrogen air."

"I know that." Rees sighed. "And theories are fine. All I'm saying is that we don't know, here and now, what Nead will find on the other side of that door."

Nead dropped his eyes. "Look, Rees, I know I'm crippled. But my arms and shoulders are as strong as they ever were. I know what I'm doing, and I can do this job."

"I know you can… Just come back safely."

Nead smiled and nodded, the characteristic streak of gray in his hair catching the corridor light.

Now Rees and Gord fixed two steam jets to Nead's waist by a length of rope. The bulky jets were awkward but manageable in the micro-gravity conditions. Another rope was fixed to Nead's waist and would be anchored to the ship.

Gord checked that the inner door to the Observatory was sealed, so that the passengers were in no danger; then they exchanged final, wordless handshakes, and Gord palmed the opening panel.

The outer door slid out of sight. The air was sucked from Rees's chest. Sound died to a muffled whisper and he tasted blood running from his nose. A warmth in his popping ears led him to suspect he was bleeding there too.

The door revealed a sea of blue light far below. They had already passed through the nebula's outer halo of star-spawning hydrogen and it was possible to make out stars above and below them. Far above Rees's head a small, compact knot of redness marked the position of the Nebula from which he had flown. It was strange to think that he could raise a hand and block out his world, all the places he had seen and the people he had known: Pallis, Sheen, Jame the barman, Decker… He knew that Pallis and Sheen had decided to live out their remaining shifts together; now, eyes fixed on that distant blur, Rees sent out a silent prayer that they — and all the others who had sacrificed so much to get him this far — were safe and well.

Rees and Gord lifted Nead bodily through the open Port. His legs swinging as if carved from wood, the injured Scientist shoved himself off in the direction of a jet mounting. Rees and Gord waited in the open doorway, the securing rope in their hands.

Nead slowed a few feet short of the jet mount. Rees watched anxiously as Nead scrabbled at the frictionless surface of the hull. Then the mount came within reach and he grabbed at it gratefully, locking his fingers around small irregularities in the iron surface.

He hauled on his ropes. Gord and Rees bundled the first steam jet out of the port and shoved it toward the young Scientist. They judged it well, the package of machinery stopping a few feet short of Nead. With fast but precise motions Nead dragged at his rope and fielded the machine. Now the Scientist had to align the jet, at least roughly, with the Bridge's axis, and he spent long seconds struggling with the old device's bulk.

At last it was correct. From a chest pocket Nead dragged out adhesive pads and slapped them against the mount; then, the strain showing on his face, he hauled the machine into place over the pads. Finally he untied the rope from the secured jet and cast it free.

Nead had worked fast and well, but already some thirty seconds had passed. The bulk of the work had still to be performed, and the pain in Rees's chest was reaching a hollow crescendo.

Now Nead scrambled toward the next mount, over the curve of the hull and out of sight. After unbearably long seconds there was a tugging on one rope. Rees and the mine engineer threw the second steam jet through the hatch. The bulky machine bumped around the hull.

It was impossible to gauge the passage of time. Had only seconds passed since they had launched the machine?

Without reference points time was an elastic thing… Blackness closed around Rees's vision.

There was a flurry of motion to his right. He turned, his chest burning. Gord had begun to haul on the rope, his face blue now and his eyes protruding. Rees joined him. The rope moved disturbingly easily, sliding unimpeded over the frictionless surface.

A sense of dread blossomed alongside Rees's pain.

The end of the rope came rushing around the curve of the hull. The line had been neatly cut.

Gord fell back, eyes closing, the effort he had expended apparently pushing him over the brink into unconsciousness. Rees, his vision failing, placed his palm over the door's control panel.

And waited.

Gord slumped against the door frame. Rees's lungs were a jelly of pain, and his throat tore at the empty air…

A blur before him, hands gripping the rim of the door frame, a face contorted around blue lips, a stiff body with strapped legs… Nead, he realized dully; Nead had returned, and there was something he had to do.

His arm, as if independent of his will, spasmed against the port's control panel. The port slid shut. Then the inner door opened and he was pulled backwards into the thickening air.

Later Nead explained, his voice a rasp: "I could feel I was running out of time, and I still wasn't finished. So I cut the rope and kept going. I'm sorry."

"You're a bloody fool," Rees whispered. He struggled for a while to raise his head from his pallet; then he gave up, slumped back, and drifted back to sleep.

With Nead's jets they guided the ship into a wide, elliptical orbit around a hot yellow star deeper inside the new nebula. The great doors were hurled open and men crawled around the hull attaching climbing ropes and fixing fresh steam jets. Thin, bright air suffused the musty interior of the ship; the stink of recycled and tanked air was dispelled at last and a mood of celebration spread among the passengers.

Even the ration queues seemed good-humored.

The bodies of those who had not survived the crossing were lifted from the ship, wrapped in rags and dropped into the air. Rees glanced around the knot of mourners gathered at the port. He observed suddenly what a mix of people they were now: there were Raft folk like Jaen and Grye, alongside Gord and other miners; and there was Quid and his party of Boneys. They all mingled quite unselfconsciously, united by grief and pride. The old divisions meant nothing, Rees realized; in this new place there were only humans…

Eventually the Bridge would move on from this star but these bodies would remain here in orbit for many shifts, marking man's arrival in the new world, before air friction finally carried them into the flames of the star.

Despite the influx of fresh air Hollerbach continued to weaken steadily. At length he took to a pallet fixed before the Bridge's window-like hull. Rees joined the old Scientist; together they gazed out into the new starlight.

Hollerbach fell into a fit of coughing. Rees rested his hand on the old man's head, and at last Hol-lerbach's breathing steadied. "I told you you should have left me behind," he wheezed.

Rees ignored that and leant forward. "You should have seen the release of the young trees," he said. "We just opened the cages and out they flew… They've spread out around this star as if they were born here."