by John Varley
“You disagree with my decision to go up. You have stated your objections. You said you loved me. I don’t think you do any more, and I’m very sorry things turned out this way. But I order you to wait here until I return, and say no more to me about it.”
His mouth was set in an uncompromising line.
“It’s because I love you that I don’t want you to go.”
“My God, Bill, I don’t want that kind of love. ‘I love you, so hold still while I tie you down.’ What hurts is that it’s you doing it. If you can’t have me as my own woman, able to make my own decisions and take care of myself, you can’t have me at all.”
“What kind of love is that?”
She felt like crying, but knew she didn’t care.
“I wish I knew. Maybe there’s no such thing. Maybe one has to be taken care of by the other, which means I’d better start looking for a man who’ll be dependent on me because I won’t have it the other way. Can’t we just care for each other? I mean when you’re weak I help out, and when I’m weak you support me.”
“It looks like you’re never weak. You just said you can take care of yourself.”
“Any human being should. But if you think I’m not weak, you don’t know me. I’m like a little baby right now, wondering if you’re going to let me leave here without a kiss, without even wishing me good luck.”
Damn it, there went a tear. She wiped at it quickly, not wanting him to accuse her of using tears as a weapon. How do I get in these no-win situations? she wondered. Strong or weak, she would always be on the defensive about it.
He relented enough for a kiss. There seemed little to say when they moved apart. Cirocco could not tell what his reaction was to her dry eyes. She knew he was hurt, but did that hurt him more?
“You come back as soon as you can.”
“I will. Don’t worry too much about me. I’m too mean to kill.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Two hours, Gaby. Tops.”
“I know, I know. Don’t talk about it, okay?”
Whistlestop looked even larger than before, sitting on the flat plain to the east of Titantown. Ordinarily the blimp never came lower than treetop level. It had been necessary for all the fires in town to be extinguished to persuade him to come to ground.
Cirocco looked back at Bill, standing on his crutches beside the pallet the Titanides had used to carry him out. He waved, and she waved back.
“I take it back, Rocky,” Gaby said, teeth chattering. “Talk to me.”
“Easy, girl, easy. Open your eyes, will you? Watch where you’re going. Oops!”
A dozen animals had queued up inside the blimp’s stomach, like subway passengers impatient to get home. They tumbled over each other getting out. Gaby was knocked down.
“Help me, Rocky?” She said it desperately, risking only one quick glance up at Cirocco.
“Sure.” She tossed her pack to Calvin, who was already inside with Gene, and lifted the other woman. Gaby was so tiny, and so cold.
“Two hours.”
“Two hours,” Gaby repeated, dully.
There was a quick pounding of hooves, and Hornpipe appeared at the open sphincter. She grabbed Gaby’s arm.
“Here, small one,” she sang. “This will help you through your troubles.” She pressed a wineskin into Gaby’s hand.
“How did you know …” Cirocco began.
“I saw the fear in her eye and remembered the service she did me. Did I do right?”
“You did marvelously, my child. I thank you for her.” She didn’t tell Hornpipe about the wineskin in her own pack, brought along for just that purpose.
“I will not kiss you again, since you say you will return. Good fortune to you, and may Gaea spin you back to us.”
“Good fortune.” The opening closed silently.
“What did she say?”
“She wants you to get blasted.”
“I already had a drink or ten. But now that you mention it …”
Cirocco stayed with her as she succumbed to a screaming fit, feeding her wine until she was on the verge of unconsciousness. When she was sure Gaby would be all right, she joined the men at the front of the gondola.
They were already in the air. Water ballast was still spilling from a hole near Whistlestop’s nose.
Soon they were skimming the upper surface of the cable. Looking down, Cirocco saw trees and areas of grass. Parts of the cable were completely overgrown. The thing was so large that it looked almost like a flat strip of land. There would be no danger of falling until they reached the roof.
The light slowly began to fail. In ten minutes they were in orange-tinted dusk, heading for eternal night. Cirocco was sad to see the light go. She had cursed it for being so unvarying, but at least it was light. She would not see it again for some time.
She might not ever see it again.
“This is the end of the line,” Calvin said. “He’ll bring you in a little lower and put you down by cable. Good luck, you crazy fools. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Gene helped Cirocco get Gaby into her harness, then went first to hold her when she reached the ground. Cirocco watched from above until it was done, then got a kiss for luck from Calvin. She settled her own harness around her hips and let her feet drop over the edge.
She descended into the twilight zone.
Chapter Nineteen
They felt lighter when they landed on the cable, being about one hundred kilometers nearer the center of Gaea—and one hundred long kilometers from her floor. The gravity had dropped from almost one quarter gee to less than a fifth. Cirocco’s pack weighed nearly two kilos less, and her body weight had decreased by two and a half.
“It’s a hundred kilometers to where the cable joins the roof,” Cirocco said. “I’d say it’s a thirty-five-degree slope here. It should be easy enough for now.”
Gene looked skeptical.
“More like forty degrees, I’d say. Closer to forty-five. And it gets steeper. Say sixty degrees before we reach the level of the roof.”
“But in this gravity—”
“Don’t laugh at a forty-degree slope,” Gaby said. She was sitting on the ground, looking green but cheerful. She had thrown up, but said anything was better than being in the blimp. “I’ve done some climbing on Earth with a telescope strapped to my back. You’ve got to be in good shape, and we’re not.”
“She’s right,” Gene said. “I’ve lost weight. Low gravity makes you lazy.”
“You people are defeatists.”
Gene shook his head. “Just don’t think we’re going to get a five to one advantage. And don’t forget that pack masses almost as much as you do. Be careful with it.”
“Hell, we set out on the longest mountain climb ever attempted by human beings; do I hear singing? No, nothing but grousing.”
“If there’s songs to be sung,” Gaby said, “we’d better sing ’em now. We ain’t gonna feel like it later.”
Well, Cirocco thought, I tried. She was aware the trip was going to be hard, but felt the hard part would not begin until they reached the roof, which she thought they could do in five days.
They were in a dim forest. Trees of cloudy glass loomed over them, further filtering what light reached the twilight zone, giving everything a bronze hue. Shadows were conical and impenetrable, pointing the way east, toward night. A canopy of pink, orange, blue-green, and gold cellophane leaves arched overhead: an extravagant sunset late in a summer evening.
The ground vibrated softly beneath their feet. Cirocco thought about the huge volumes of air rushing through the cable on its way to the hub, and wished there was some way of putting that immense power to use.
It was not difficult climbing. The ground was hard, smooth, packed dirt. The shape of the land was dictated by the winding of the strands under the thin layer of soil. It humped in long ridges that, after a few hundred meters, could be seen angling toward the sloping sides of the cable.
The vegetation grew most t
hickly where the dirt was deepest, between the strands. They adopted the tactic of following a ridge until it began to curl under the cable, then crossing a shallow gully to the next strand to the south. That would be good for another half kilometer, then they would cross again.
Each gully had a small stream at the bottom. None held more than a trickle, but the water flowed swiftly and cut deep channels in the dirt, all the way down to the cable. Cirocco guessed the streams must fall right off the cable somewhere to the southwest.
Gaea was as prolific up here as she was on the ground. Many of the trees bore fruit, and they were alive with arboreal animals. Cirocco recognized a sluggish, rabbit-sized creature that was edible and easy to kill.
By the end of the second hour Cirocco realized the others had been right. She knew it when a cramp seized her calf and sent her sprawling on the warm ground.
“Don’t say it, damnit.”
Gaby grinned. She was sympathetic, but still pleased with herself.
“It’s the slope. It doesn’t feel all that hard to go up it; you’re right about the weight. But it’s so steep you have to do it on your toes.”
Gene sat beside them, his back to the slope. Through a rift in the trees, they could just see a patch of Hyperion, shining bright and attractive.
“The mass is a problem, too,” he said. “I’ve had to walk with my nose just about touching the ground to get moving at all.”
“My arches hurt,” Gaby confirmed.
“Me, too,” Cirocco said, miserably. The pain was going away now as she massaged her leg, but it would be back.
“It’s damn deceptive,” Gene said. “Maybe we’d do better on all fours. We’re making our thighs and the backs of our legs do too much of the work. We should spread it out some.”
“He’s got a point. And it would help us get in shape for the straight-up part. That’s going to be mostly arm work.”
“You’re both right,” Cirocco said. “I was pushing too hard. We’re going to have to stop more often. Gene, would you get that medical kit out of my pack?”
There were various remedies for sniffles and fevers, vials of disinfectant, bandages, a supply of the topical anaesthetic Calvin had used for the abortions—even a bag of berries that worked as a stimulant. Cirocco had tried them. There was a first-aid booklet Calvin had written that told how to deal with problems from a bloody nose to an amputation. And there was a round jar of violet salve Meistersinger had given her for “the pains of the road.” She rolled up her pants leg and rubbed some on, hoping it would work as well for humans as it did for Titanides.
“Ready?” Gene was up, adjusting his pack.
“I think so. You take the lead. Don’t go as fast as I was; I’ll tell you if you’re going too fast for me. We’re going to stop in twenty minutes, rest for ten.”
“You got it.”
Fifteen minutes later Gene was in pain. He howled, ripped off his boot, and massaged his bare foot.
Cirocco was glad for the chance to rest. She stretched out and dug into a pocket for the jar of ointment, then rolled over on her back and handed it up-slope to Gene. With the pack under her she sat almost erect, but with her legs trailing down the slope. Beside her, Gaby had not bothered to turn over.
“Fifteen minutes up, and fifteen minutes resting.”
“Anything you say, boss lady,” Gaby sighed. “I’ll flay myself alive for you, I’ll climb till my hands and feet are bloody wrecks. And when I die, just write on my tombstone that I died like a soldier. Kick me when you’re ready to go.” She began snoring loudly, and Cirocco laughed. Gaby opened one eye suspiciously, then laughed, too.
“How about ‘Here lies a spacewoman’?” Cirocco suggested.
“‘She done her duty,’” Gene said.
“Honestly,” Gaby sniffed. “Where’s the romance in life? Tell somebody your epitaph and what do you get? Jokes.”
Cirocco’s next cramp came during the following rest period. Cramps, actually, as both legs were involved this time. There was nothing funny about it.
“Hey, Rocky,” Gaby said, touching her shoulder hesitantly. “There’s no sense killing ourselves. Let’s take an hour this time.”
“This is ridiculous,” Cirocco managed to grunt. “I’m barely winded. It just doesn’t feel right to sit on my butt.” She looked at Gaby suspiciously. “How come you don’t get cramps?”
“I’m slacking,” Gaby admitted, with a straight face. “I hitch a rope to that butt you don’t want to sit on, and let you do the donkey work.”
Cirocco had to laugh, though weakly.
“I’ll just have to live with it,” she said. “Sooner or later I’ll be in better shape. Cramps won’t kill me.”
“No. I just hate to see you hurt.”
“How about ten up, twenty down?” Gene suggested. “Just until we start to work ourselves into something more.”
“No. We go up for fifteen minutes, or until one of us can’t go on, whichever is sooner. Then we rest the same time, or until we’re all able to climb. We do that for eight hours …” She checked her watch. “That’s a little more than five hours from now. Then we make camp.”
Gaby sighed. “Lead on, Rocky. That’s what you’re good at.”
It was gruesome. Cirocco continued to have the greatest share of pains, though Gaby began to experience them, too.
The Titanide salve helped, but they had to use it sparingly. Each of them packed a medical kit, and they had already gone through Cirocco’s supply. She hoped they would not be needing it past the first few days of the journey, but wanted to retain at least one jar for the climb up the inside of the spoke. After all, it was not unbearable pain. When it grabbed her she was likely to yelp, then sit down and wait for it to pass.
At the end of the seventh hour she relented, feeling a little chagrined at her own stubbornness. It was almost as if she had been trying to prove Bill was right, forcing herself to be tough, to go to the limits of her endurance and then a little beyond.
They made camp at the bottom of a gully, gathering wood for a fire but not bothering to set up their tents. The air was hot and muggy, but the fire was a welcome light in the increasing gloom. They sat around it at a comfortable distance, stripped down to their gaudy silken underclothes.
“You look like a peacock,” Gene said, taking a drink from his wineskin.
“A very tired peacock,” Cirocco sighed.
“How far do you think we’ve come, Rocky?” Gaby asked.
“It’s hard to say. Fifteen kilometers?”
“I’ll go along with that,” Gene said, nodding. “I counted steps along a couple ridges and averaged it. Then I kept track of the number of ridges we crossed.”
“Great minds think alike,” Cirocco said. “Fifteen today, twenty tomorrow. We’ll be at the roof in five days.” She stretched out and watched the shifting colors of the leaves overhead.
“Gaby, you’re elected. Dig into that sack and rustle us up some grub. I could eat a Titanide.”
They did not make twenty kilometers the next day; they did not make ten.
They woke with sore legs. Cirocco was so stiff she could not bend her knees without wincing. They stumbled around fixing breakfast and breaking camp, moving like octogenarians, then forced themselves through a series of kneebends and isometrics.
“I know this pack is a few grams lighter,” Gaby moaned, as she slung it on her back. “I ate two meals out of it.”
“Mine’s gained twenty kilos,” Gene said.
“Bitch, bitch, bitch. C’mon, you apes. You wanna live forever?”
“Live? This is living?”
The second night came only five hours after the first because Cirocco decided it had to.
“Thank you, o Great Mistress of Time,” Gaby sighed, as she stretched out on her sleeping bag. “If we try, maybe we can set a new record. A two-hour day!”
Gene let himself down beside her.
“When you get the fire going, Rocky, I’ll take about five of those stea
kplant fillets. In the meantime, walk softly, will you? When your knees crack you wake me up.”
Cirocco put her hands on her hips and glared at them.
“So that’s how it’s going to be, huh? I’ve got news for you two. I outrank you.”
“Did she say something, Gene?”
“Didn’t hear a word.”
Cirocco limped around until she had gathered enough wood for a fire. Kneeling to start it turned out to be a very complex problem, one she was not sure she could solve. It involved wrenching abused joints through angles they just did not want to take.
But after a time the steakplants were snapping in the grease, and Gene and Gaby followed their noses to the source of the heavenly aroma.
Cirocco had just enough strength to kick dirt over the coals and unroll her sleeping bag. She was asleep on her way to it.
The third day was not as bad as the second, in the same way the Chicago Fire was not as bad as the San Francisco Earthquake.
They made ten kilometers over gradually steepening ground in just under eight hours. Gaby remarked at the end of it that she no longer felt eighty years old. She now felt seventy-eight.
It became necessary to use a new climbing tactic. The increasing slope of the ground made walking, even on all fours, more difficult. Their feet would slip and they would go down on their stomachs with arms and legs spread to prevent a backward slide.
Gene suggested they alternately take one end of the rope and crawl up as far as it would reach, then tie the end to a tree. The other two, waiting at the bottom, then had an easy hand-over-hand pull and walk. The one who went ahead worked hard for ten minutes while the other two rested, then could rest for two turns before going again. They made 300 meters at a time.
Cirocco looked at the stream near their third campsite and thought about taking a bath, then decided against it. Food was what she wanted. Gene, with some grumbling, took his turn at the frying pan.
