had beaten every other fighter in St. Louis; that was how you got to be King. The four bowed, with Sherrine and Bob supporting the Angels.
They were turned loose into a party that was just starting to turn raucous.
Harry and Jenny stayed behind, by invitation of the King. Some of the court settled in a circle. Some had lutes or tubes that turned out to be musical instruments. Alex listened for a bit. Songs of past and future-—
"Wanted fan for plain sedition, like the singing of this tune.
If NASA hadn't failed us we'd have cities on the moon.
If it weren't for fucking NASA we'd at least have walked on Mars.
If I never can make orbit, then I'll never reach the stars."
Never can make orbit . . . Harry and Jenny were singing to Alex's soul. Alex wasn't in the mood for that much gloom. He moved away, toward laughter.
Jenny's voice followed him. "How's this, Majesty?"
"Wanted fan for mining coal and wanted fan for building nukes;
Wanted fan by William Proxmire and a maddened horde of kooks.
Washington, D.C., still wants me 'cause I tried to build a dam.
If they're tearing down the cities I'll help any way I can."
"Yeah, Jenny, I know you would . . ."
Gordon gravitated