He judged its size by an even larger natural object nearby: a tree with one tuft missing. The log was smaller than their own, Rather thought. At its midpoint he could make out a rocket-shape, cone and tank and angular cabin.

Carlot said, "I know that rocket. Woodsman. Dad won't like this. They could just as easily have been out another damn year." She looked into his eyes. "We won't have much time together. The Belmy family owns Woodsman. Dad wants to marry me to Raff Belmy."

"Will you do it?"

"Shut up." She pulled him against her by the slack of his tunic. "I don't want to think about it. Just don't talk," she breathed into his ear, and he obeyed. It crossed his mind that Booce should be told of these things. But there would be time ...

Gyr falcon found the log easily: bigger than average, with both tufts severed. It was making its burn: a wavery line of cloud behind it was beginning to arc over. The rocket would be behind the trunk.

"Instruments," Wheeler instructed. "Rice, get us a rendezvous track. Murphy, the neudar. That dark blemish in the wood-"

"I see it, sir."

He waited and watched. His crew moved well, Bosun Murphy in particular. She hadn't yet used the neudar under field circumstances. She moved slowly, but without mistakes. That would reflect well on Wheeler.

"The blemish is dense. Metal," she said. "Kilotons."

"Now the rocket."

"I can't see anything-"

"Behind the midpoint."

"Oh! I can look through the wood!" She tried it. "Mmm . . . something . . . metal, not much. Our own iron rocket nozzle would show a mark like that."

"Rice?"

"We need a bum, Petty. Fifty degrees planar, zero axial, a hundred breaths of bum and we'll go just past."

"Give us the bum, then all hands suit up. Spacer Rice, you're in the cabin, on instruments. Murphy, on the pump."

Gyrfalcon carried a glass alcohol tank and a pair of water tanks. Its valve system had been rifled from the hulk of an ancient Cargo and Repair Module. On long voyages, standard practice was to spray water into the alcohol flame as working mass. Water could be replaced in domains beyond the Admiralty's reach. Alcohol generally could not, though some of the happyfeet tribes carried alcohol distilleries for trade with the Admiralty.

Wheeler and Jimson tethered themselves carefully at the steering platform above the motor. Murphy began to pedal. Pedals could be extended, but a dwarf on the bicycle always delivered more power. Wheeler put his hand in the airflow to test it, then started the alcohol flame. He checked his crew's handholds before he increased the flow.

Thrust pulled at his skin and his bones. He ran water into the flame. Thrust rose again, and heat bathed the inner surfaces of his straining legs.