if she tried to stand at even only halfEarth gravity. Rhythm, a sense of purpose, a strange pattern, anincredible gargantuan grace.
The whale plowing the waves is graceful; it cannot be otherwise in itsnatural habitat. The human race had produced, accidentally, oneunlikely person to whom interplanetary space was not an alien thing.Anti was at last in her element.
"Now," said Jordan, keeping the tension out of his voice, "go back tothe outside tool compartment. You'll find a lever. Pull. That will setthe combustion cap in place."
"Done," said Anti, some minutes later.
"That's all. You can come in now."
"That's all? But I'm not cold. It hasn't reached any nerves yet."
"Come in," repeated Jordan, showing the anger of alarm.
She walked slowly over the hull to the cargo lock and, while she did,Jordan reeled in the telecom viewers. The lock was no sooner closedto the outside and the air hissing into the compartment than Jordanwas there, opening the inner lock.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She flipped back the helmet. There was frost on her eyebrows and hernose was a bright red. "Of course. My hands aren't a bit cold." Shestripped off the heated gloves and waggled her fingers.
"It _can't_ be!" protested Cameron. "You should be frozen stiff!"
"Why?" asked Anti, laughing. "It's a matter of insulation and I haveplenty of that."
Cameron turned to Docchi. "When I was a kid, I saw a film of a dancer.She did a ballet, Life of the Cold Planets, I believe it was called.For some cockeyed reason, I thought of it when Anti was out there. Ihadn't thought of it in years."
He rubbed his hand fretfully over his forehead. "It fascinated me whenI first saw it. I couldn't get it out of my mind. When I grew older, Ifound out a tragic thing happened to the dancer. She was on a tour ofVenus and the ship she was in disappeared. They sent out searchingparties, of course. They found her after she had spent a week on afungus plain. You know what that meant. The great ballerina was aliving spore culture medium."
"Shut up," growled Jordan.
Cameron didn't seem to hear. "Naturally, she died. I can't rememberher name, but I've always remembered the ballet she did. And that'sfunny, because it reminded me of Anti out there--"
A fist exploded in his face. If there had been more behind the blowthan shoulders and a fragment of a body, his jaw would have beenbroken. As it was he floated through the air and crashed against thewall.
Angrily, he got to his feet. "I gave my word I wouldn't cause anytrouble. The agreement evidently doesn't work both ways." He glancedsignificantly at the weapon Jordan carried. "Maybe you'd better besure to have that around at all times."
"I told you to shut up," said Jordan. After that he ignored thedoctor. He didn't have a body with which to do it, but somehow Jordanmanaged a bow. "A flawless performance. One of your very best,Antoinette."
"Do you think so?" sighed Anti. The frost had melted from her eyebrowsand was trickling down her cheek. She left with Jordan.
Cameron remained behind. He felt his jaw. It was too bad about hisambitions. He knew now that he was never going to be the spectacularsuccess he had once imagined. Not after these accidentals had escapedfrom Handicap Haven. Still, he would always be able to practicemedicine somewhere in the Solar System. He'd done his best on theasteroid and this ship, and he'd been a complete ass both times.
The ballerina hadn't really died, as he had been told. It would havebeen better for her if she had. He succeeded in recalling her name. Ithad been Antoinette.
Now it was Anti. He could have found that out by checking her casehistory--_if_ Handicap Haven had one on file. Probably not, hecomforted himself. Why keep case histories of hopeless cases?
* * * * *
"We'll stick to the regular lanes," said Docchi. "I think we'll getcloser. They have no reason to suspect that we're heading towardEarth. Mars is more logical, or one of the moons of Jupiter, oranother asteroid."
Jordan shifted uneasily. "I'm not in favor of it. They'll pick us upbefore we have a chance to say anything."
"But there's nothing to distinguish us from an ordinary Earth-to-Marsrocket. We have a ship's registry on board. Pick out a ship that's inour class. Hereafter, we're going to be that ship. If Traffic blipsus, and they probably won't unless we try to land, have a recordingready. Something like this: 'ME 21 zip crackle 9 reporting. Ourcommunication is acting up. We can't hear you, Traffic.' Don't overdothe static effects but repeat that with suitable variations and Idon't think they will bother us."
Shaking his head dubiously, Jordan swung away toward the repair shops.
"You look worried," said Anti.
Docchi turned around. "Yeah."
"Won't it work?"
"Sure. We'll get close to Earth. They're not looking for us aroundhere. They don't really know why we escaped in the rocket. That's whythey can't figure out where we're going."
His face was taut and his eyes were tired. "It's not that. The entireSolar Police Force has been alerted for us."
"Which means?"
"Look. We planned to bypass the Medicouncil and take our case directlyto the Solar Government. If they want us as much as the radioindicates, it's not likely they'll be very sympathetic. If the SolarGovernment doesn't support us all the way, we'll never get anotherchance."
"Well?" said Anti. She seemed trimmer, more vigorous. "What are wewaiting for? Let's take the last step first."
He raised his head. "The Solar Government won't like it."
"They won't, but there's nothing they can do about it."
"I think there is--simply shoot us down. When we stole the ship, weautomatically stepped into the criminal class."
"We knew that in advance."
"Is it worth it?"
"I think so," said Anti.
"In that event," he said, "I'll need time to get ready."
She scrutinized him carefully. "Maybe we can fix you up."
"With fake arms and grease-paint? No. They'll have to accept us as weare."
"A good idea. I hadn't thought of the sympathy angle."
"Not sympathy. Reality. I don't want them to approve of us as handsomeaccidentals and have them change their minds when they discover whatwe're really like."
Anti looked doubtful, but she kept her objections to herself as shewaddled away.
Sitting in silence, he watched her go. She, at least, would derivesome benefit. Dr. Cameron apparently hadn't noticed that exposure toextreme cold had done more to inhibit her unceasing growth than theacid bath. She'd never be normal again; that was obvious. But someday, if the cold treatment were properly investigated, she might beable to stand gravity.
He examined the telecom. They were getting closer. No longer a brightpoint of light, Earth was a perceptible disc. He could see the outlineof oceans, shapes of land; he could imagine people.
Jordan came in. "The record is rigged up, though we haven't had to useit. But we have a friend behind us. An official friend."
"Has he blipped us?"
"Not yet. He keeps hanging on."
"Is he overtaking us?"
"He would like to."
"Don't let him."
"With this bag of bolts?"
"Shake it apart if you have to," Docchi impatiently said. "How sooncan you break into a broadcasting orbit?"
"I thought that was our last resort."
"Right. As far as Anti and I are concerned, this is it. Any argumentagainst?"
"None that I can think of," answered Jordan. "With a heavy cruiserbehind us, no argument at all."
* * * * *
They were all in the control compartment. "I don't want a focusexclusively on me," Docchi was saying. "To a world of perfect normalsI may look strange, but we have to avoid the family portrait effect."
"Samples," suggested Anti.
"In a sense, yes. A lot depends on whether they accept thosesamples."
For the first time Dr. Cameron began to realize
what they were up to."Wait!" he exclaimed. "You've got to listen to me!"
"We're not going to wait and we've already done enough listening toyou," said Docchi. "Jordan, see that Cameron stays out of the telecomtransmitting angle and doesn't interrupt. We've come too far forthat."
"Sure," Jordan promised harshly. "If he makes a
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