Viktor could not help feeling that there had to be some some kind of point, or at least purpose, to it. After all, he had come close enough to losing his life often enough. He counted up: Three times frozen, three times successfully thawed without harm. He had taken three good cuts at those 180-to-1 odds; in fact, as far as the third time was concerned, you couldn't really figure any realistic odds at all. They might have floated in s.p.a.ce forever without being found, if it hadn't been for someone coveting the old interstellar s.h.i.+p enough to spend prodigally of scarce resources to get it-and for Mirian succ.u.mbing to one of the few generous impulses in an ungenerous world when he revived them. kind of point, or at least purpose, to it. After all, he had come close enough to losing his life often enough. He counted up: Three times frozen, three times successfully thawed without harm. He had taken three good cuts at those 180-to-1 odds; in fact, as far as the third time was concerned, you couldn't really figure any realistic odds at all. They might have floated in s.p.a.ce forever without being found, if it hadn't been for someone coveting the old interstellar s.h.i.+p enough to spend prodigally of scarce resources to get it-and for Mirian succ.u.mbing to one of the few generous impulses in an ungenerous world when he revived them.

For what purpose? When you survived so much for so long, shouldn't there be a reason? reason?

It couldn't be just to shovel excrement, or, as Reesa had been doing, breeding c.o.c.kroaches in offal to feed fish. Could it be to help Tortee in her plan? Because if that was it, Viktor told himself skeptically, whoever arranged purposes had picked a loser this time: there was no way way old old Ark Ark could be turned into the kind of s.p.a.ce battles.h.i.+p that could win a firefight with whatever it was on the planet of Nebo that killed people. could be turned into the kind of s.p.a.ce battles.h.i.+p that could win a firefight with whatever it was on the planet of Nebo that killed people.

On the other hand- On the other hand, Tortee was gone, and Tortee's computers were right there in the room with him.

There might be a purpose to his life, after all! Galvanized at the thought, Viktor leaped out of bed.

When, minutes, later, Reesa came s.h.i.+vering back into the bedroom skimpily wrapped in a towel, he hardly looked up.

She stopped abruptly, astonished. "Viktor! What are you doing with those machines?"

He glanced at her blankly. "What do you think I'm doing? That woman's got a data linkage-all the data banks from Ark Ark and and Mayflower, Mayflower, the copies are still intact! Now I'm looking for later stuff, trying to find out what kind of research anyone's done on that fireball they call the universe." the copies are still intact! Now I'm looking for later stuff, trying to find out what kind of research anyone's done on that fireball they call the universe."

"Are you out of your mind?" she demanded. "We can't push Tortee too hard, Viktor. If you use her things without permission . . ."

He focused on her, his expression suddenly wrathful. Then, slowly, he relaxed. "Oh, h.e.l.l," he said. "You're right, of course. But, my G.o.d, Reesa, this is the most important thing that ever happened! Just from the little bit I've been able to dig up so far, I'm pretty sure my first guess was right. Somehow or other, we've been picking up speed. Lots Lots of speed; nearly the velocity of light! And that fireball is the universe, all right, but we're traveling so fast that all the light from it is concentrated in front of us!" of speed; nearly the velocity of light! And that fireball is the universe, all right, but we're traveling so fast that all the light from it is concentrated in front of us!"

"Yes, Viktor. I see how important that is to you. But the most important thing is to stay on Tortee's good side," Reesa said firmly.

"Oh, Christ," Viktor said in disgust. "She's loopy, you know. She isn't even doing what the council ordered-they think they're going to get power out of Ark, Ark, and she wants to send it out to fight a war!" and she wants to send it out to fight a war!"

Reesa was practicing patience. "Dear Viktor, that's their business, not ours. They told us to work for her, so we'll do what she tells us to do."

"Even if she's out of her mind? And-" He suddenly noticed that Reesa was s.h.i.+vering. "Hey," he said. "don't catch pneumonia on me!"

She pulled the towel tighter around her, looking demure. "Shall I get dressed?" she asked, but the mere fact that she had asked determined the answer; and, besides, he was suddenly aware that he was even barer than she, and equally cold.

"Well, not right away," he said. "Why don't you-we, I mean-why don't we get back under the covers for a while?"

"Let's just remember we have to leave time to change the sheets," Reesa said practically; but then, when they were under the covers, spooned back to front with his arm over her, she waited for him to move or to speak. He didn't.

"You're thinking about that fireball," she said into the pillow.

"I can't help it, Reesa. I-I wish I'd paid more attention to my father when I had the chance. He would have known more about it. This would have been the most interesting thing in the world to him."

"I never doubted it was interesting, Viktor," Reesa said gently, "and I understand how you feel about solving it."

"It's not just like solving a puzzle! It's important to everybody. It has something to do with what's going on on Nebo, too, I'm sure of it!"

"That's possible, Viktor. I don't see how, but I'm willing to believe it. All the same, Vik, I wouldn't try to convince Tortee, if I were you. All Tortee wants is to get Ark Ark flying again, with guns blazing. And she's got troubles of her own. She's the one who wants to colonize Nebo, and she's got the Great Catholics behind her-but whether they'll stay that way depends on how fast she can show some kind of results. And the others-well, the Peeps are the ones who talked the council into trying to use the fuel for microwave power, and there's talk in Allahabad that colonizing another planet's a good enough idea, but it shouldn't be Nebo." flying again, with guns blazing. And she's got troubles of her own. She's the one who wants to colonize Nebo, and she's got the Great Catholics behind her-but whether they'll stay that way depends on how fast she can show some kind of results. And the others-well, the Peeps are the ones who talked the council into trying to use the fuel for microwave power, and there's talk in Allahabad that colonizing another planet's a good enough idea, but it shouldn't be Nebo."

"Where then?" Viktor asked, startled.

"They're not very clear on that. Some of them think that since Ark's Ark's an interstellar s.h.i.+p basically they should try another star. Others have ideas about the moons of Nergal-they claim there ought to be enough heat from the brown dwarf to make something possible." an interstellar s.h.i.+p basically they should try another star. Others have ideas about the moons of Nergal-they claim there ought to be enough heat from the brown dwarf to make something possible."

"Shades of Tiss Khadek," Viktor said, thinking. "Well, maybe that ought to be investigated, too. But that fireball-"

"Viktor, Viktor," his wife said gently. "If you play your cards right you'll have plenty of chances to see what you can find out about the fireball. In your spare time. When Tortee isn't looking. But don't push it, because she doesn't want to hear."

"I know, but-"

"Viktor. Did you know that both the Reforms and Allahabad are on overload, and the Peeps would be, too, if they hadn't been lucky enough to lose six or seven people last week? That means the whole colony has more people than they're allowed. So last week in Allahabad they froze three people for profaning shrines, and they're still eleven over their proper number."

"Profaning shrines! My G.o.d, Reesa, what kind of people are we living with?"

"We're living with people on the edge of starvation, Viktor. That's what you have to remember. All the time." She hesitated. "Do you know what else I heard? Some of the Peeps don't think even the freezers should be kept going. They're revolutionary idealists-they think they are, anyway-and they've got some pretty nasty ideas. They think they might as well thaw out some of the freezers without reviving them." She paused.

Viktor blinked at the back of her neck. "Why would they do that?" he demanded.

"Fodder," she said briefly. "Protein sources. To feed to the chickens and the gerbils, to turn the corpses into useful food."

"My G.o.d!" G.o.d!" Viktor repeated, appalled. Viktor repeated, appalled.

"So go slow, my darling, please." She was silent for a moment, reaching up to put her hand over his as it cupped her breast. Then she said, "Viktor? Now that I'm all sweet and clean, do you think you'd like to get me all sweated up one more time while we still have the use of the bed?"

And of course that was the best idea she'd had yet . . . only at the end of it, when she was shuddering and moaning, there was a timbre to the sounds his wife made that reached through to Viktor, even at the peak of his own o.r.g.a.s.m.

He had heard sounds like those before.

Not from Reesa. He had heard them from Marie-Claude in their one coupling, when her husband had died. Like Marie-Claude, Reesa was weeping even as they made love.

She didn't say anything in words. Neither did he. Only, when they were dressed again and making up the old woman's bed afresh, she stopped and looked at him. "We have to make the best of things, Viktor," she said harshly.

"Yes," Viktor agreed; and that was the end of it. Neither of them needed to mention the names of lost Shan and Yan and Tanya, and little Quinn.

Making the best of things wasn't easy. In this starved world there was hardly a "best" to aim for.

The project they were on promised more problems than rewards. Viktor had known all along that Tortee's plans were going to be exceedingly difficult. He hadn't known just how close they were going to be to outright impossible.

To begin with, there was the task of repairing Ark Ark from what was left of from what was left of Mayflower. Mayflower. How were they going to manage that? They didn't have an orbiting s.h.i.+pyard to do it in; they didn't have the big tools to do the job; they didn't have the shuttles to launch the tools they did have into orbit. They didn't even have the plans of the s.h.i.+ps to work from. Those records might still be in the files somewhere, the stored data fiches that no one had looked at for a hundred years; but it would take a hundred years more, Viktor estimated, to find them again. How were they going to manage that? They didn't have an orbiting s.h.i.+pyard to do it in; they didn't have the big tools to do the job; they didn't have the shuttles to launch the tools they did have into orbit. They didn't even have the plans of the s.h.i.+ps to work from. Those records might still be in the files somewhere, the stored data fiches that no one had looked at for a hundred years; but it would take a hundred years more, Viktor estimated, to find them again.

What he did have was a vast collection of pictures of the old interstellar s.h.i.+ps, which Tortee had had taken from orbit, scaled, and computerized so that at least you could take some rough dimensions from them and hope the parts would fit where you wanted them to. Of course, no one expected a neat job. In s.p.a.ce a few wrinkles or b.u.mps made no difference-you didn't have to streamline a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p. All it had to do was hold its air and stay together under acceleration.

a.s.suming somehow they could deal with that, the harder job was still ahead of them: Invading hostile Nebo itself.

Tortee's promise was good there. She had provided them with a detailed mosaic of Nebo's surface, with fine-scale blowups of all the areas where the lasers (were they really lasers? The things that jolted foreign s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps, anyway) were based.

Reesa was the one who converted all of Tortee's photos into three-dimensional plans for the computer to display. Tortee had good programs, painfully salvaged and restored from the ancient vaults. Viktor had seen most of the pictures before: the great, tulip-shaped horn antennae, the spiral things that had to be some other kind of antenna (or perhaps a sort of waveguide for some sort of discharge?). He even saw, with a shock, a familiar shape near one of the cl.u.s.ters that magnification revealed to be the wreck of Ark's lander.

There was no sign of bodies anywhere near the lander. There was no sign of anything alive there, either, or anywhere else on Nebo.

After a week of hard work Viktor began to believe that targeting those conspicuous artifacts might indeed be possible after all. But after you targeted them, what were you going to hit them with?

That was when Tortee delivered on another promise. She had undertaken to find someone who knew something about rocket weaponry, and when she produced him Viktor was astonished to see that it was Mirian.

Viktor met Reesa as she came in from the Peeps' chambers, and the two of them went hand in hand to the workroom next to Tortee's. Mirian was waiting for them, nervously stroking his pale beard. "Listen, Viktor," he said at once, "I didn't give you any breaks before, you know? I'm sorry about that. Things were tough for me. I hope you won't hold it against me."

"Yeah?" Viktor said, not committing himself.

"I mean it," Mirian said earnestly. "I don't blame you if you're mad, but, see, I need this job. Working in the freezers . . ." He looked embarra.s.sed. "Well, when they send you there to work what they're saying is, 'Watch it, fellow, or you'll be inside inside them before you know it.' So this is a big chance for me. I'll do my best for you. I swear I will." them before you know it.' So this is a big chance for me. I'll do my best for you. I swear I will."

"I'm not the one you have to worry about; Tortee's in charge," Viktor said uncomfortably.

Reesa was more practical. "Do you know anything about s.p.a.ce weapons?" she asked.

"I know as much as anybody else does." Mirian told her, and managed a grin. Which was to say, Viktor realized as the man began describing his ideas, not very much at all. There was not much call for long-range weaponry in this frozen-over world; there weren't any long-range targets. When the sects fought among themselves it was mostly with clubs and knives, and the big terror weapon was a hand grenade.

Still, grenades meant explosives; and once you had explosives you could put a bunch of them in a warhead and mount it on a rocket. There was nothing intrinsically hard about building a rocket, either-the ancient Chinese had done it when most of the world still lived in mud huts. The hard part was guidance.

But, Mirian explained eagerly, guidance only meant cannibalizing instrumentation from Ark Ark and and Mayflower Mayflower and the surviving lander shuttles. In the long retreat from near-Nebo, while Reesa and Viktor had still been slumbering undiscovered in the freezer pods, Mirian had put in weeks in a s.p.a.ce suit, roaming the old s.h.i.+p, investigating the resources it still provided, and planning a revengeful return. "We can do it," he promised. "Honest to Fred we can!" and the surviving lander shuttles. In the long retreat from near-Nebo, while Reesa and Viktor had still been slumbering undiscovered in the freezer pods, Mirian had put in weeks in a s.p.a.ce suit, roaming the old s.h.i.+p, investigating the resources it still provided, and planning a revengeful return. "We can do it," he promised. "Honest to Fred we can!"

"At least," Reesa said practically, "we can see if we can. If it's possible at all-"

"It has has to be!" Mirian cried. to be!" Mirian cried.

Viktor's doubts did not diminish as the days went on. He had a very clear memory of the jolting blows Ark Ark had suffered. The idea of taking on that sort of technology with the improvised firecracker rockets Mirian was trying to build was ludicrous. had suffered. The idea of taking on that sort of technology with the improvised firecracker rockets Mirian was trying to build was ludicrous.

Now and then, in the privacy of pillow talk with his wife, Viktor expressed his doubts. The rest of the time he kept his mouth shut. Yet, grudgingly, he admitted to himself that whatever these people lacked in wisdom or manners they made up in courage. Nothing was easy for them. Even food was so scarce that the storehouses were tiny: food didn't need to be stored for long when Sunday's harvest was Wednesday's memory. The 2,350 inhabitants of the four colonies lived on a marginal 2,200 calories a day-yet that added up to five million calories that had to be supplied each day. So many kilograms of chicken, frogs, rabbits, and fish; so many metric tons of grains, tubers, and pulses; so many cubic meters of leafy vegetables and fruits. The vegetables were not very leafy, nor were the fruits the handsome, unblemished objects Viktor remembered from his childhood supermarkets. But there was just so much you could do about growing things in caverns under the ice. Viktor's "s.h.i.+t detail" mushroom farm had supplied only a tiny fraction of that everyday crush of provender, but every tiny fraction was urgently needed. The alternative was overload-and if overload wasn't checked the next step was starvation.

Still they had managed to refurbish an old chemical rocket and send it clear to Nebo's...o...b..t, board old Ark, Ark, and get it going again. The old interstellar s.h.i.+p had been at the aphelion of its stretched-out orbit of the time. They had not risked coming close to the faceless enemy on Nebo-yet they had stolen old and get it going again. The old interstellar s.h.i.+p had been at the aphelion of its stretched-out orbit of the time. They had not risked coming close to the faceless enemy on Nebo-yet they had stolen old Ark Ark away from him. Whoever he was. away from him. Whoever he was.

Viktor disliked these people very much. All the same, there was a faint touch of admiration coloring his contempt.

Even Mirian turned out to be quite human as they worked together. The man was a lot younger than Viktor had thought. Mirian was only thirty-nine-in Newmanhome years, at that; the equivalent of an Earthly college kid. That surprised Viktor. He seemed much too young to have volunteered for the mission on Nebo. Yet it also turned out that Mirian was married and had even left a child behind when he took off for the long mission. "But of course I volunteered, Viktor," he explained. "The Greats were pretty close to overload, and when I got caught-"

"Caught at what?" Viktor asked, guessing that the girl had turned up pregnant and Mirian had had to marry. But it wasn't that.

Mirian looked shamefaced, picking at his beard. "They charged me with theft. Said I'd eaten some of the community's honey. Well, I did," he conceded, "but it was only a few drips in a broken comb. It probably would have been just wasted otherwise. So they said they wouldn't prosecute if I volunteered for Nebo duty." He looked around apprehensively and lowered his voice. "It was Tortee's honey," he whispered. "She was the one who said I had to choose between the s.h.i.+p or the freezer."

"Tortee seems to have a lot of authority," Viktor commented.

"You'd better say that! She's-well, listen. How old do you think she is?"

Viktor shrugged. "Maybe a hundred and twenty?" Newmanhome years, of course, but none of these people had ever counted in anything else.

"Try seventy-five," Mirian chortled, enjoying Viktor's astonishment-why, the woman was Reesa's age! "That's right. She could still be having babies, except her husband's in the freezer-he worked there, and they caught him making a fire to keep warm. So she just eats, instead of, you know, being with a man. man. And-" And-"

He stopped, looking suddenly frightened. "Oh, I thought I heard her coming," he said. "Listen, we'd better get to work. Now, we've got these fuel canisters; we can use them for the body of the rockets . . ."

The people on Newmanhome had a fair supply of explosives. They needed them now and then. When the ice moved, as it unpredictably did, glacier lips had to be blasted to keep them from burying what was left of Homeport too deep to survive.

But explosives were too dangerous to be freely available; half a dozen little wars among the sects had proved that. The explosives plant was located three kilometers away, heavily guarded by a fully armed squad from each of the sects, and the shuttle that would someday take people back up to Ark Ark and and Mayflower Mayflower was within its perimeter, guarded just as heavily. was within its perimeter, guarded just as heavily.

Viktor eagerly accepted the chance to go outside to visit the launch site. It was the Peeps' day off, so Reesa was obliged to stay idle with the others in the warrens of the People's Republic, but Viktor and three others, one from each but the Peeps sect, struggled into extra layers of clothing topped with sheepskins; an electrically warmed mesh covered his mouth and nose, and a visor was over his eyes. Even so, that first Arctic-plus blast that struck him soaked through the furs and the four layers of garments in moments, leaving him shaking as he toiled after the other four to the place where stronger, colder men were tanking up the lander shuttle with liquid oxygen and alcohol.

At least the winds were only winds. They did not drive blizzards of snow against the struggling men and women. The winds couldn't do that; snow almost never fell anymore. The air of Newmanhome had been squeezed skin-cracking dry, for there were no longer any warm oceans anywhere on the planet to steam water vapor into the air so that it could come down somewhere else as rain or snow. There wasn't any somewhere else when the whole planet was frozen over.

Squinting against the blast, Viktor could see the dark, cold sky.

It was not anything like the skies he had known before. The shrunken sun gave little heat. Even the dozen stars that were left were themselves, Viktor was almost sure, dimmer than they had been.

And then, as Newmanhome turned, red Nergal appeared, as bloodily scarlet-bright as ever. Minutes later that great puzzle, "the universe," burst eye-blindingly white over the horizon. Viktor gazed at it and sighed.

If only his father had lived to see. If only these people were willing to try to understand! If only- He felt Mirian tapping him on the shoulder. Viktor looked where the younger man was pointing, up toward that same eastern horizon. "Yes, the universe," Viktor said eagerly through the mesh. "I've been thinking-"

Mirian looked suddenly fearful. "Hey, not that!" he cried over the sound of the wind. "Please don't talk about that! that! I meant over there, next to it." I meant over there, next to it."

Squinting through the mesh, Viktor saw what Mirian was calling his attention to. It was a faint spot of light, barely visible as it moved down toward its setting: Ark, Ark, in its low orbit, moving toward its final rendezvous with in its low orbit, moving toward its final rendezvous with Mayflower. Mayflower.

Viktor stared at it. The time was getting close. When Ark Ark and and Mayflower Mayflower were linked together the lander would be launched, and then it would all start. were linked together the lander would be launched, and then it would all start.

He was suddenly coldly certain that Tortee was going to order him onto the shuttle. And he didn't want to go.

When they were back in the dining hall again Mirian was charged up with optimism. "We're going to do it," he told Viktor positively. "We've got crews trained for repair all ready; they'll be taking off for Ark in a couple of weeks, and then-"

"And then," Viktor said, as gently as possible, "we have to hope that they can get the s.h.i.+p habitable again; and that these rockets will work; and that that little bit of antimatter left in Ark's Ark's drive will hold out long enough to ferry people back and forth." drive will hold out long enough to ferry people back and forth."

Mirian paused, a spoonful of the stew of corn and beans halfway to his mouth. "Don't talk like that, Viktor," he begged.

Viktor shrugged and remembered to smile. He was beginning to thaw out after his long run outside, and even the meatless-day stew tasted good. The important thing, he told himself, wasn't that this harebrained project should work, it was only that people could believe believe that it might. Even a false hope was better than no hope at all. that it might. Even a false hope was better than no hope at all.

"I do wish," he said, "that we had some more antimatter. We could do a lot with more power. Even maybe build some lasers or something-something better than-" He stopped himself from saying what he had been about to say about the feeble rockets Mirian was putting together. "It was pretty nice when we had Earth technology going for us," he said wistfully.

"Is it true that you people actually made made this antimatter stuff?" Mirian asked enviously. this antimatter stuff?" Mirian asked enviously.

"Not me. Not here-but, back on Earth, sure. They made all kinds of things, Mirian. Why, back on Earth . . ."

Mirian wasn't the only one listening as Viktor reminisced about the wonders of the planet he had left as a child. A woman across the table put in, "You mean you just walked around? Outside? Outside? Without even any clothes on? And things just grew out in the open?" Without even any clothes on? And things just grew out in the open?"

"It was like that here on Newmanhome, too," Viktor rea.s.sured her.

"And they didn't worry about-" She paused, looked around, and lowered her voice. "-like, overload?"

Viktor gave her a superior smile. He knew he was rubbing salt in wounds, but he couldn't help it. "If you mean killing people because there are too many to feed, no. Not ever. Fact, they wanted wanted more people. Everybody was supposed to have all the children they could. Reesa and I had four," he boasted, unwilling to try the explanation of what was meant by "Reesa and I" and the divided parentage of the children . . . more people. Everybody was supposed to have all the children they could. Reesa and I had four," he boasted, unwilling to try the explanation of what was meant by "Reesa and I" and the divided parentage of the children . . .

The children.

Viktor lost the thread of what he was saying. Suddenly the cooling stew and the smells of the densely packed dining hall stopped being pleasant. The children! And he would never see any of them again.

Viktor excused himself and stumbled away to the jakes. He didn't have to urinate. He just didn't want anyone to see, in case he had to cry.

When he got back Mirian gave him a quick, hooded look and went on talking about his experiences as a freezer guard. "They've got all kinds of stuff in there," he was saying. "You wouldn't believe all of it. There's one whole chamber that's full of frozen sperm and ova, animals that they brought from Earth and never started up here. Whales! Termites! Chimpanzees-"

"What's a termite?" the woman across the table asked, but she was looking at Viktor.

Viktor did his best. "It's a kind of an insect, I think. They used to worry about them eating the wood in their houses in California. And a chimpanzee's like a monkey-I think," he added honestly, because all he remembered of chimpanzees was that he had seen a lot of almost human-looking primates one day at the San Diego Zoo, and he had been more impressed by the terrible way they smelled than by his father's lectures on which was which.