"Which means," Sherrine interjected, "that you could even take a friend with you. No, guess not. Seeds and stuff--"

"The Titan was rigged for a Gemini," said Bob, "but I figured we should be able to…" His voice trailed off. Alex suspected that Bob was just beginning to appreciate the magnitude of the proposed rescue. As long as it was blue sky dream, there were no problems; but the closer they came, the more the difficult details emerged.

People didn't really build spacecraft in their backyards, or in museums. That was just science fiction.

So far so good!

They went up the handicapped ramp to the left of the main entrance. The mass of the building was beginning to get to Alex. Peace and Freedom were frail metal balloons next to this concrete habitat. It was, he thought, like being in a hollowed-out asteroid.

Bob secured a map of the museum and they huddled over it. The logo read, "Chicago Museum of Science and Appropriate Technology," with a footnote explaining that "science" did not mean only "materialist science."

Now, what might "non-materialist science" be? Alex wondered. Plasma physics?

"Here it is." Bob pointed. "I'll be damned. It's still in the same old spot. Henry Crown Space Center. What does it say in the description?" He bent closer. "This exhibit has been preserved as it was in the past as an example of Big Technology. Astonishing as it may seem, billions of dollars were once spent in outer space rather than here on Earth. See the actual capsules that were used to give a few military pilots joyrides at taxpayer expense."

"I don't understand, Bob," Alex said. "How could they spend money in space? There were no stores there back in those days."

"That's not what they meant, Gabe," Bob replied.

Thor spoke gently. "They meant that the money was spent on the space program rather than on Earthly problems."

Sherrine burst out, "They got so much from the space program! Fireproofing. Weather forecasting. Dammit, these"--she kicked Alex's wheelchair--" lightweight wheelchairs we're pushing around. Sorry."

Alex started to laugh. Sherrine said, "Sorry. My God, it's been so long since I could say this kind of thing!"

"Did these chairs really--"

"Waste-water treatments. Medical instruments. Most people had no idea that any of that came out of the space program. Or for that matter, that it even existed. A new design lightweight wheelchair doesn't make the kind of headlines that a scrubbed launch or a flawed mirror makes, even if the structural analysis techniques and composite materials used to make the damn thing were aerospace from the beginning. What is everyone grinning at?"

"Welcome back," Steve said.

"Thanks. Oh, Bob, there was nobody to talk to."

Steve said, "All that stuff was just 'spin-off,' you know. Science happens because one day a scientist wakes up and says, 'Today I'm going to invent toothpaste.' If he didn't plan to invent a better wheelchair, he can't take credit for it."

"Come on," said Bob. "We're wasting time here. Let's get back to the Crown Center."

He led them through several exhibits on the way to the back room where the space exhibit was stashed. One was a Hall of Minerals that featured all sorts of crystals, together with detailed descriptions of the powers of each for "… clearing away negative attitudes, centering personal energies, enhancing communications, promoting healing, opening the heart to love and courage, simplifying decision making, balancing the spirit, focusing the mind, tapping into psychic powers, and using chakras and colors."

Another exhibit was entitled "Origins of the Earth." There were seven panels, one for each day. One large poster read "The Speed of Light: A Test of Faith?" and explained how light created "already on the way" could give the impression of a universe much larger and older an it really was.

There was a Green exhibit on alternate energy sources. Windmills, passive solar. Biomass. "Biomass?"

Bob said, "Burn wheat and corn. Real efficient. Well, at least they don't have an exhibit on generating energy by squeezing crystals."

"Why the grin, Alex?" Thor asked as they entered a stairwell and turned right into a dimly lit corridor. A faded sign on the wall read, "This way to Henry Crown Space Center."

Alex chuckled. "We grow perfect crystals in our electronics lab in Freedom. I could be rich if I had brought a handful with me."

The Crown Center was housed in a separate wing that could be reached only through a long, narrow corridor. A homeless pair huddled in a niche near the doorway. They were bundled up in torn blankets that covered everything but their eyes.

"Hey, man, you got any change?"

No one looked at them. Eye contact might humanize them…

Half the lights in the hallway were out and the edges at the floor and ceiling were thick with nitre and cobwebs. This was a part of the building long--and deliberately--neglected.

The center itself was dimly lit. The two space capsules were shadowy shapes suspended from the ceiling. A couple of teenaged boys who had found their way in were standing beneath the Mercury capsule. "… and all they ever brought back was a bung of dumb moon rocks," Alex heard the one tell his companion. He turned to them as he was wheeled past.

"Did you ever ask what those rocks were made of?" he asked.

The two kids gave him a wary look. "Rocks is rocks," the older said.

"Right, kid," murmured Thor. "Aluminum, titanium, zirconium, calcium. If we had mined the moon like some people wanted, we wouldn't have to disturb Mother Earth and ruin the environment here."

The younger kid stuck his chin out. "Yeah, but then we woulda ruined the moon's ecology."

Thor smiled. "I can't argue with that," he said mildly. "Mighty important, that lunar ecology."

One of the boys nodded solemnly. The other muttered something under his breath.

The two teenagers left casting a few careful glances behind. "You better be careful, you come back here," the younger one called. "Or the spook'll get you!"

"All right," said Bob when they were gone. "Let's spread out and see if we can find Cole."

They split into groups and explored the corners of the hall. Alex saw a shuttle simulator, now padlocked. A sign told how much taxpayer money had been spent so astronauts could play computer games."

"Over here!" Sherrine shouted. "The Titan!"

They converged on her voice. A tall cylinder stood in an ill-lit corner of the room, a majestic shadow among the shadows. "I can't believe it," Bob said, his head tilted back to seek its top. "We actually found it!"

Fang approached the behemoth in awe and fear. He ran his hand over its skin. He looked at his hand. He studied the ill-lit surface a few moments more, and said, "I'm going to be sick."

Alex yanked on his chair's wheels and rolled up to the artifact. Closer now, he could see rust sots, popped welds, holes where fittings should have been. There were no main thrusters mounted at the base.

Alex noticed a dark horizontal line running across the booster about halfway up. His own belly lurched and tried to turn over. The bird had been cut in half, he realized. Cut in half, to transport it or to get it through a door. He remembered that Bob had described Cole's rocket as a kind of Flying Dutchman, wandering from museum to museum.

This ship would never fly. It never could have flown.

I never thought it could. Never in a million years. Then why was he so disappointed? Why was he biting his lip so hard that he could taste blood? He heard a sob to his right and turned in time to see Gordon stagger out of his wheelchair and lean against the Titan. His arms stretched out to embrace it and he placed his cheek against its cool skin. Tears had pooled in his eyes.