resistance would slow down the rotating bolo of house/tank in just a few hours. As the frantic rush of air slowed to a trickle, and weight became a barely felt tendency, Antaea launched herself through the open air, foot-fins flickering in the golden light, to alight on the tank with elegant grace. “He’s agreed to two more days of weight,” she said without preamble. “You’re going to need every second of it to get yourselves into condition.”
Chaison nodded. “You mean to take us to a town.”
Darius scoffed. “Why not make a straight run for Slipstream?”
She shook her head. “Your border is hundreds of miles from here. The air is thick with habitation and clotted with everything from garbage to trees. I couldn’t get the bike above fifty miles per hour in clear air, ten in a cloud. And there’s a lot of cloud lately, unusual amounts apparently. If we tried to go by night we’d barely crawl, the air is so full of hazards. And we’d be heard for miles.”
“Four people hanging off a bike is bound to cause comment,” added Chaison. “We’re just going to have to be patient, and do things a bit differently.”
She nodded approvingly. “Right. So here.” She held out some bundles of clothing and a rolled-up shaving kit. “Make yourselves presentable. You can use some water from the tank you’re sitting on. Any look that’s different from what you had as officers will do.—But get rid of those beards, for God’s sake.”
Richard Reiss eagerly took the shaving kit from her. “Beards are not common in Falcon, I take it?” he said.
Antaea shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t like them.”
She kicked off toward the farmhouse. Chaison couldn’t help but sneak a look at her kicking legs and leather-sheathed backside as she moved off. He noticed Darius noticing and sighed, turning his attention to the pile of clothing, but his visceral reaction to Argyre’s presence made him think of Venera. Was she safe? How had she taken his disappearance? She was as brave as any soldier. She would be all right.
He lay down on the cold metal to sleep, repeating it as a sad mantra: she would be all right. She would be all right without him.
THREE DAYS LATER they found themselves waiting in a cloud again, this time within sight of a town-wheel that glittered in the distance like a hoop of gold filigree. Antaea had gone ahead with the bike; she was visible for a while but soon became just one dot among dozens buzzing around the axle of the wheel. She disappeared, and time dragged.
“I ache in every possible place,” said Richard. “I seriously doubt I’ll be able to stand when we get there.”
Chaison had been counting how many seconds it took for the great wood-and-rope wheel to make one revolution. “From the place’s size and rate of rotation, I’d say they’re doing a comfortable point-six gee at the rim. Not a full gee, thankfully. You should be fine, Richard.”
The wheel was like a very long plank bridge rolled up so that the two ends connected. Rope spokes crisscrossed the interior circle, suspending a set of buildings at the “axle” as well as a few dozen platforms at varying heights above the rim. Some of these hanging streets held halfway houses of streamlined shingle where people unused to gravity could conduct business and even lodge at lower gravities—point-three, point-one and so on up to zero at the axle. The buildings were connected to the outer rim by stairways and elevators.
Boats, bikes, and cargo nets hung off the rim of the wheel; the nets rippled in the wind from the town’s rotation. Every now and then jets along the rim growled into life, rumbling for a few minutes as they kept the wheel spinning at its standard rate.
Several hours passed, with nothing to do but stare at the town and maintain station with the foot-fins Antaea had provided. Suddenly Darius exclaimed, “Where’s the bike?”
He pointed. Chaison looked and saw a big pair of midnight-black
Chaison nodded. “You mean to take us to a town.”
Darius scoffed. “Why not make a straight run for Slipstream?”
She shook her head. “Your border is hundreds of miles from here. The air is thick with habitation and clotted with everything from garbage to trees. I couldn’t get the bike above fifty miles per hour in clear air, ten in a cloud. And there’s a lot of cloud lately, unusual amounts apparently. If we tried to go by night we’d barely crawl, the air is so full of hazards. And we’d be heard for miles.”
“Four people hanging off a bike is bound to cause comment,” added Chaison. “We’re just going to have to be patient, and do things a bit differently.”
She nodded approvingly. “Right. So here.” She held out some bundles of clothing and a rolled-up shaving kit. “Make yourselves presentable. You can use some water from the tank you’re sitting on. Any look that’s different from what you had as officers will do.—But get rid of those beards, for God’s sake.”
Richard Reiss eagerly took the shaving kit from her. “Beards are not common in Falcon, I take it?” he said.
Antaea shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t like them.”
She kicked off toward the farmhouse. Chaison couldn’t help but sneak a look at her kicking legs and leather-sheathed backside as she moved off. He noticed Darius noticing and sighed, turning his attention to the pile of clothing, but his visceral reaction to Argyre’s presence made him think of Venera. Was she safe? How had she taken his disappearance? She was as brave as any soldier. She would be all right.
He lay down on the cold metal to sleep, repeating it as a sad mantra: she would be all right. She would be all right without him.
THREE DAYS LATER they found themselves waiting in a cloud again, this time within sight of a town-wheel that glittered in the distance like a hoop of gold filigree. Antaea had gone ahead with the bike; she was visible for a while but soon became just one dot among dozens buzzing around the axle of the wheel. She disappeared, and time dragged.
“I ache in every possible place,” said Richard. “I seriously doubt I’ll be able to stand when we get there.”
Chaison had been counting how many seconds it took for the great wood-and-rope wheel to make one revolution. “From the place’s size and rate of rotation, I’d say they’re doing a comfortable point-six gee at the rim. Not a full gee, thankfully. You should be fine, Richard.”
The wheel was like a very long plank bridge rolled up so that the two ends connected. Rope spokes crisscrossed the interior circle, suspending a set of buildings at the “axle” as well as a few dozen platforms at varying heights above the rim. Some of these hanging streets held halfway houses of streamlined shingle where people unused to gravity could conduct business and even lodge at lower gravities—point-three, point-one and so on up to zero at the axle. The buildings were connected to the outer rim by stairways and elevators.
Boats, bikes, and cargo nets hung off the rim of the wheel; the nets rippled in the wind from the town’s rotation. Every now and then jets along the rim growled into life, rumbling for a few minutes as they kept the wheel spinning at its standard rate.
Several hours passed, with nothing to do but stare at the town and maintain station with the foot-fins Antaea had provided. Suddenly Darius exclaimed, “Where’s the bike?”
He pointed. Chaison looked and saw a big pair of midnight-black
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