"At least I'll still be trying. What else is there to do?"

Ron Cole sat in a large stuffed chair in the oversized living room. He looked somehow out of place, and kept casting nervous glances left and right. Jerky movements, like a bird's. Then he sprang from the chair and shoved it into a corner of the wall. After that he sat slightly more at ease, though he still seemed to twitch nervously.

"Is it still paranoia," Thor whispered to Alex, "when they really are out to get you?"

Cole's eyes danced from face to face around the room, lingering briefly on each. He frowned slightly when he locked gazes with Alex; and nibbled on his lower lip over Harry. "Oliver," he said plaintively, "there are too many."

Helga and Violetta had already returned with several bags of snack foods that they had bartered from the grocery store for the Wisconsin cheese. They broke open bags of chips and trail mix into large bowls and hand them out. Alex raised his eyebrows.

"So much in trade?" he asked her.

"Oh, people will pay far more for the cheese than it is worth," Helga explained. "I suppose that, as long as a single slice can make it out of 'America's Dairyland,' people can tell themselves that things, aren't all that bad and they'll return to normal someday."

"Nostalgia has value, doesn't it?" said Sherrine. "Don't we have our own nostalgia? For the way the future was."

" 'A Fire in the Sky'…" said Bob.

"And we all want a slice of that future, too," said Mike with a grin.

"The Phoenix," said Bruce.

Cole jerked and looked at him. "You're not supposed to know about that. What do you know about Phoenix? Oliver, I don't know these people."

"Take it easy, Ron. Nobody here but us chickens. Alex and Gordon here are…"

"Angels. Yes, yes. That's obvious. Bone structure. Height. Anyone can see that. And Thor. I know Thor. I think. It's so hard to remember sometimes."

Alex exchanged looks with Gordon. Was their origin that obvious? If so, how could they ever hope to maintain a false ID? Or was it--remembering the other people they had encountered along the way-obvious only to someone like Cole?

"You know Harry," said Oliver.

Cole made a face. "Yes. I knew Harry. Know Harry. Oh, thank you."

Violetta had come by with a tray of glasses. Cole took one and sipped it. "Oh my, yes. What is it?"

"Dandelion wine."

Cole licked his lips. He looked sly. "I know where you can get some peach brandy."

"Yes, Ron," said Helga from the kitchen door. "We know. You sell it to us. Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Could you help me out in the kitchen for a minute. I'm cutting up the rest of the cheese for hors d'oeuvres."

Harry looked briefly angry, then looked sidelong at Ron Cole. "Yeah, sure."

Jenny took his arm. "Come on. They don't need us here." She led him from the room. At the doorway, she turned. "It really does hurt his feelings, you know. He's not as tough as he likes to act."

Oliver shifted in his seat. "Sure. But, Christ, Jenny, you know him better than any of us. I sent him out for beer once and…"

"And the store was closed, so Harry broke a window. I know. He likes to tell that story."

Alex frowned. "He smashed a store window to steal some beer? That doesn't sound--"

"No, he left money for it."

Thor was sitting on the floor with his back to the opposite wall. He rose smoothly and dusted himself. "I guess I'll take a long walk."

Steve said, "Hey, Thor…" And Fang reached out and touched the golden giant's arm.

"Sorry, Steve. Fang. But I haven't stayed loose this long by hanging around a bull's-eye. Neither have you."

Fang shook his head. "I'm seeing it through. I finish what I start."

"Let me know what you decide."

When Thor had gone, Cole peered at the group from Minneapolis. Oliver held out a hand. "I'll vouch for them, Ron. You trust my judgment, don't you?"

Cole sucked in his lips and nodded.

"Harry delivered the message?"

"Oh, yes. It's time to move on and see what free men can do."

Silence lengthened. Faintly from the kitchen came song:

"Nader's Raiders want my freedom, OSHA wants my

scalp and hair,

If I'm wanted in Wisconsin, be damned sure I

won't be there!

If the E-P-A still wants me, I'll avoid them if I

can.

They're burning down the cities, so I'll be a

wanted fan."

It twitched nerves. Oliver said, "Whatever happened to escapist literature? Ron, tell us about Phoenix!"

"Phoenix. A fire in the sky," Ron Cole said. "It flew once, you know. I was there. Gary was sure it could circle the Earth. They wouldn't let it fly all the way, though. They kept her chained. Not everyone wanted her chained, though." His voice had become nearly normal, and Oliver leaned back, more relaxed now.

"It was politics. NASA and the military," Cole said. "The cost per pound of payload to low earth orbit was five to ten kilobucks. Those were the official numbers. The real cost-well! NASA got five billion a year and they were lucky to get a launch every two months. If Gary could fly to orbit for a few million dollars instead of billions, NASA would look ridiculous."

"I remember," Alex said.

"But the Air Force was going to build it, part of the strategic defense system, but then the Russians gave up their empire, and the Air Force wasn't worried anymore that someone would seize the high ground on them. So they killed the program, but they hate to throw anything away. Pack rats, they are. So they decommissioned her and set her up on a public part of Edwards, so technically they still have some jurisdiction."

Alex leaned forward. "How did they decommission her?"

Cole chuckled. "They unplugged her. Heh, heh."

Bruce frowned. "What does that mean?"

Cole looked uncertain. "You're sure I can--"

"You can tell us," Oliver assured him.

"They took her ROMs." Cole perked his head up and beamed at them.

Steve cocked his head. "They took her ROMs?"

"It means," said Alex, "that they pulled all the computer chips with the flight programming and internal controls. Engines, life support. Everything that made the bird alive."

Sherrine sat up straight. "Programming? Why, we should be able to replace that! Bob and Gary can work out the physics. And Tom Marshall and I can do the coding."

Alex smiled thinly. "About 200,000 lines of code, to judge by the birds I've flown? That's 100,000 lines apiece. At 100 lines a day, that would be three years' work."

"That's right," said Mike. "ROM wasn't built in a day."

Sherrine slumped. "Oh."

"Strike one," said Alex, holding up a finger. "Is there anything else, Dr. Cole?"

"There's the IMU, of course. They took that out. Couldn't leave that in."

"What's an IMU?" asked Fang.

"It's an inertial platform," Bob explained. "It would be about so big… His hands cut a figure in the air. "Maybe a little bigger than a shoebox."

"I don't suppose you have one on you?" Alex asked Cole.

Cole looked at his hands, as if he expected to find an IMU there. "No. That I don't have."

"Strike two." Alex held up a second finger.

"And of course," Cole continued, "there's no fuel."

"Strike three, and we're out." He turned to Gordon. "All I asked for was a chance. But there's no chance here."

Cole blinked rapidly. "Oh, but none of those are insuperable obstacles. No, indeed. Not insuperable, at all."

Oliver Brown nodded slowly. "You don't have the IMU. What is it you have, Ron?"

Cole looked sly. "Well--"

"ROMs. He gave you a copy. For safekeeping," Oliver insisted.

"Yes, yes, you know us both, of course you know that. Yes. I have them, back at the museum. Wrapped in foil. I have them, safe, safe. We thought we thought once I would go with Gary, but not now, not now. Now I would be a burden."