He touched her slick red shell affectionately and obediently began the old story, the one that told of their humanity —so easy to forget these days, especially when you caught a glimpse of yourself in a mirror! "I was a poor farmer's son," he said, by rote. "Back in Chile, in our old Twentieth Century. I was growing up to a life of—nothing. No money. No hope, except trying to scratch a living out of the soil."
"I know," the girl murmured, touching his hard shell with one supple arm.
"But when the clouds lifted I could see a mountaintop far away. There was something on it that looked like a snow-white bubble, the most beautiful thing I could see. They said it was called an 'observatory.' They said astronomers worked there, exploring the universe through their telescopes—and, oh, Daisy Fay, I wanted so badly to be one of them! I'd go out in the pastures at night and lie on my back, gazing up at the stars—the Southern Cross, and Alpha Centauri and all of them. . . . There was another boy in my town, a storekeeper's son. He had more money than I did, but he was interested in the same things. The two of us ordered some materials through the mail. I didn't have any money, but he paid for them and I did most of the work, and we built a litde telescope. God, Daisy! That was so wonderful, looking at the moons of Jupiter and at the Great Nebula in Orion, and the Magellanic Clouds. . . . And then I got a chance to go away to school in the Army and they made me a pilot. I studied navigation, and I wondered if my country would ever let me go to college when I got out, maybe study astronomy—"
He laughed. "It didn't work out that way, of course. I probably never would have got to college, anyway. But the Turtles did the next best thing for me, didn't they? Now I don't just look at the stars—I go out and roam among them!"
"And this is what you call heaven?" Daisy Fay asked won-deringly.
"It's close enough for me," Marco told her seriously. "At least—considering that we lost a lot of options when the plane crashed." Gendy their eyestalks kissed and parted. "It isn't just the stars, Daisy Fay, they're only one part of this heaven. The other part is the one that's really important, and that's having you here with me. I remember watching you board the plane," he whispered, his limbs shuddering. "You were so beautiful!"
"I was just an ordinary woman, Marco," she told him, but not very insistently.
"You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! And that's why this is heaven, Daisy Fay. I have my childhood dream—and I have you!" They clung to each other for a moment, lovingly and hopelessly.
Then a raucous screech from the passageway interrupted them. "Ridiculous humans!" rasped Chief Thunderbird. "Why are you not tending to your work?" The Turtle quickly scanned the generator panels, then said, slighdy mollified, "One sees you have balanced the converters and there is no indication of irregularity. Come, then! It is time for us to act!"
Sork Quintero was saying, for the thousandth time it seemed: "Yes, the old scientists said it was possible for a black hole kind of thing to be a way of getting into another universe. They called them Svormholes.' Yes, I suppose it's possible that that's what happened to your planet, and, yes, I suppose we could follow. But, dear God, I beg you, don't try it!"
"We have no choice," said Chief Thunderbird, stalking into the room. "Come, the wave-drive is ready. There is no reason for delay."
Sork licked his lips, staring at the two Turtles. "But don't you remember what the tapes said? Wormholes—if there are such things as wormholes—aren't permanent fixtures. They open and close."
"That is not true, because there it is!" squawked Litlun in triumph, gesturing with a webbed claw at the curious spot on the screen.
"There what is? How do you know it's the same one? Think it over," Sork begged. "When did the planet vanish? Almost a hundred and fifty years ago! Time enough for the message to reach Earth and for us to get back here!"
Chief Thunderbird drew himself up. "This fact is known," he stated.
"But is it understood?" Sork demanded. "Even if all this stuff is right—and we don't know that!—that could be an entirely different wormhole, that might lead somewhere else entirely!"
"This is only speculation, and in any case does not matter," squawked Litlun.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Krake put in. "It matters to me! Sork's right. If we don't know that's even the same worm-hole—"
"What we know," Chief Thunderbird declared, "is that there is a chance it is the thing we seek, and that by entering it we can save the Mother. Therefore we will do it."
"The hell you say," cried Krake. "You can't make that decision for us! We'll decide that question democratically, by a vote."
Litlun squealed in rage. "What is 'vote,' Captain Krake? It is not a matter of voting when the future of the Brotherhood is at stake!"
"Voting is how we humans decide what to do," Krake said angrily, "and there are more of us than of you on this ship, so our rules decide. Come on, everybody! Vote! Everybody who says we don't do this crazy thing, raise a hand!"
His own hand was the first up, followed loyally by a tentacle each from his crew, Marco and Daisy Eay. And, a moment later, by Sork Quintero. Krake waited only half a second before shouting at the others: "What's the matter with you? Kiri? Sue-ling? Moon? Vote, goddamn it!"
Chief Thunderbird roared triumphantly: "They agree with us! Very well, we will be bound by this vote! Now raise hands, those who would take this risk to save the Brotherhood and the sacred Mother!"
And his own hard arm shot up, and Lidun's . . . and then Sue-ling, her voice low, said: "I'm sorry, Sork, but I think they deserve their chance." As she raised her hand, Kiri shrugged and joined her, avoiding his brother's eye.
"Four to four?" Krake whispered unbelievingly. "But you're out of your minds, all of you—well, what about you?" he challenged, glaring at Moon Bunderan.
But she wasn't looking at him. She was looking up at the face of the Taur, her expression worried. "I—I don't know," she whispered. "Something's wrong. Thrayl? What is it?"
The Taur didn't answer. His eyes had the glazed expression of his trance states, listening to the voices.
"Come on, vote!" Krake rasped. But Chief Thunderbird cried triumphantly:
"She is not voting for you, Captain Krake! Therefore there is no 'majority,' and we will proceed. Younger Brother, direct this ship to the wormhole!"
"The hell you will!" Krake raged, and turned to grab for Litlun as the Turtle was already at the control board, setting a course for the wrinkle in space.
Krake was not in time.
The Taur's expression cleared. Soundlessly he fixed his huge purple-blue eyes on Krake and moved forward, faster on his bowed litrie legs than Marco Ramos would have believed possible. The Taur caught the helplessly struggling Krake up in his hard arms and held him there.
"Do it!" shouted Chief Thunderbird triumphantly, and Litlun tapped out a swift combination on the keys; and the flare of light told them that The Golden Hind was entering wave-drive.
"Call your damn animal off!" Krake begged Moon Bunderan in fury, struggling against the Taur's iron grip- But Moon was shaking her head helplessly. Krake blinked as the transition flash lit the simulated sky. As soon as it was over he could see that the Turtle's course had been right on target; they were driving direcdy toward that terrible wrinkle in space at light speed.