"Please!" said Sork sharply.
Moon Bunderan looked at him, then changed the subject. "This Taur steak is really good, Captain Krake. You know how to broil meat—oh," she said, looking at his plate. "But you're not eating any."
"I don't eat Taur," Krake said flatly.
Moon stared at him, not comprehending. "But it's so good," she said.
Krake nodded, fixing her with a stare. "And you do eat it, don't you. In spite of how you feel about Thrayl?"
Moon stopped chewing. "Now, that's not fair!" she protested unhappily. "Thrayl is my friend. The others, the ones who are slaughtered—they're dehorned steers, you know; they aren't intelligent!"
Krake gazed at her soberly, then turned away without speaking. Moon appealed to the others. "Isn't that true, Sork? Taurs are eaten. That's what they're raised for, isn't it?"
"Of course it is," Sork Quintero reassured her.
Then he turned to Krake. "Why are we going to the Mother planet?" he asked.
The space pilot laughed angrily. "You don't know? But it's your fault."
"My fault? What did I do?"
"You let Litlun think you knew all about white holes and wormholes and all that. Now he's got the idea that that's what happened to the Mother planet."
Sork blinked at him. "But what's the point of that? If the planet's destroyed, it's destroyed, isn't it?"
"Ask Lidun," Krake said shordy. "Anyway, that's where we're going." He rubbed his bearded chin. "What I'm hoping," he said, "is that once we get there he'll see how hopeless it is and then he'll let us go our own way. Meanwhile, that's our destination."
Sork opened his mouth to confess what deal he had made with the Turdes, but closed it again. The only person he had to confess to was Sue-ling Quong, not this spaceman. He asked a question instead. "How long will it take to get there?"
Krake gave him a look of surprise. "I thought you knew that all waveship trips take about the same time—a few days at most."
"That's />?"
Krake shook his head. "You haven't understood time dilation, have you? When the ship is in wave-drive it is traveling at the velocity of light. Time is maximally dilated. That is," he explained, "as far as we're concerned, it simply stops. To travel a light-year takes one year of elapsed time, yes. But that's the galaxy's time. We don't feel it. That's why waveship navigation is so tricky; you don't know how long youVe been traveling, except by instruments."
Sork was beginning to forget his disagreeable interview with the Turdes. Fascinated, he asked, "And you can teach us how to read these instruments?"
"Of course," Marco Ramos called. "That's what Moon's doing now. Come and learn too!"
When you are in the process of achieving your heart's desire other things dwindle in importance. Exhausted as Sork Quintero was, hungry as he still was, he was flying. He was piloting a spaceship. He was living out in his real life the most unattainable hope of his dreams, and it was all real. Sork wore a foolish smile on his face as he sat there, now and then remembering to take a bite of the sandwich in his hand.
Yes, it was true. The instruments before him were the veritable control-board toggles and dials of an authentic waveship. It didn't matter that there was nothing to do, really, since there was no reason to change course in midflight. He was where he had wanted to be, and nothing else existed for Sork Quintero at that moment. It wasn't until Sue-ling Quong had put a friendly hand on Sork's shoulder that he realized she had come into the room—and a moment after that before he remembered what he had to tell her.
Then the dream collapsed. He looked up into her friendly blue eyes and swallowed before he spoke.
"Don't get mad," he said, "but—" He had to swallow again before he could finish, dismally, "I told the Turtles I'd help them understand the lecture chips."
She looked at him with astonishment. As she opened her mouth to ask a question, he forestalled her. "It was the only thing I could do, Sue-ling. I couldn't help it. They threatened to put us off on some out-of-the-way planet if I didn't."
"Have you given them the chips?"
"No! I didn't give them anything . . . but I played a couple of them with them, and I tried to explain what some of the words meant." He cleared his throat unhappily. "What else could I do?"
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Her lips had been open to speak, but now she closed them firmly. She needed to think before she said something she might regret . . . and, she thought irritably, how often was it that she had to do that with Sork Quintero.
"Did I do wrong?" he demanded. Sue-ling shook herself.
"No," she said, "I suppose not. Actually, I think we all have to hear those chips now, Sork."
His brows drew down in a question. "Why all of us? You surely don't mean everybody—even that child from New Mexico?"
"Even Moon," she said. "Even her pet Taur, if she wants him to." Sue-ling gave a nod for emphasis that made her coppery hair swing around her head. "If there's anything important there, we should all hear it—and try to figure out what it means. When's your next session with them?"
"After I get some sleep. I convinced them I just couldn't go on without it . . . although," he began, his expression changing.
She cut him off. "That will be fine. I'll tell the others what we're going to do. Now I think you're right about the sleep; you look like hell. Go put your head down until I call you."
He looked at her in a different way, but not a way that was unfamiliar to Sue-ling. "Absolutely," he said, putting his hand gently on her cheek, and she knew what was coming next.
He pulled her toward him, nuzzling against her hair. To the top of her head he whispered, "I do need sleep, but what I need most of all is to make another dream come true. Do you know what that dream is, dearest Sue-ling? I've had it for years. It's just the two of us, you and I, sharing the space between the stars as we love each other, and go on loving each other, and—"
She pulled away and put a gentle finger on his lips. "No, Sork," she said kindly.
He jerked his head away from her hand, his expression wounded. "But— But it's my turn," he said childishly.
She bit down hard on her lip before she answered. Then, drawing a breath, she said, as quietly as she could, "Three things, Sork. First, you're wrong. The last time I made love it was with you, not Kiri. Second, nobody gets a 'turn' with me. I'm not a playground toy, and you're not a child—or shouldn't be. And, third, no. Just no. Go get some sleep. We've got a lot to do before we get to the Mother planet."
There are songs that the aiodoi listen to very carefully, for they touch on things that the aiodoi know well—even when they come from an ancient poet-scientist who was scratching at only the outermost surface of the meaning of his song:
"We've talked about some curiosities of dimensions. Today we're going to talk about forces.
"If you want a definition of a 'force,' try this: 'A force is that which makes things do things.'
"For instance: If you hold a magnet over a pile of paperclips, you can pick the clips up. The force that makes the clips cling to the magnet is called magnetism. If you turn on a switch and send a current through a bulb, you get light. That current is the force that is called electricity.
"Those two, however, aren't two different forces. They are only one. A long time ago scientists proved that they were
only manifestations of the same thing, which is called the electromagnetic force.