He started when Marco Ramos spoke to him. "Tough mission, Captain," the machine-man said, trying to be reassuring. "We'll be all right, though. The Hind's a good ship, Captain— and she's got the best captain in any universe!"
"Captain," Krake repeated tightly, unwilling—no, unable —to accept even kindly reassurance. "What the hell am I captain of, Marco? Do you know what this ship is? It isn't The Golden Hind. It's The Flying Dutchman, cruising forever and going nowhere, with no way home."
"Captain—" Marco began, but Krake was shaking his head.
"Don't you see? We're in a ghost ship. That's what wave-drive is. It makes us a sort of phantom, an energy wave flying at the speed of light and cut off forever from anything real, and I'm the one who got us into this. If I'm a captain, IVe got a crew of fools!"
His voice was louder than he intended. Even Sork looked up, giving the captain a puzzled glance. He seemed about to speak, but then closed his mouth and returned to his deep study. Marco's eyes wandered uncertainly about, then he turned away silently; and that was another pain in Francis Krake's heart. He had let his temper get the best of him again. There was no reason for him to insult loyal Marco Ramos, especially not when his anger was all at himself. . . .
With maybe a little left over for Sue-ling Quong.
She was looking at him now—she and everyone else in the control room—but he could not read the expression in her eyes. What Krake wanted most was to talk to the woman in private. If only she would leave the control room, he thought, he could follow her, ask her what the matter was, maybe even see her look at him again as she had, just hours earlier, in his bed.
Of course, there was an alternative. He considered the new thought carefully and with some surprise. He didn't have to wait for her to decide to leave. He could go over to her now, ask her to step outside with him for a private word.
But Krake had been quite right about himself in one respect. He really was not very good at getting along with women any more, and while he was making up his mind the opportunity passed. The two Turtles came back into the control room and stopped at the doorway, their eyes roving about.
Then Chief Thunderbird engaged his transposer. "Captain," he said portentously, "we have something that we wish to say to you."
Krake turned toward them, surprised. "Yes?" he said.
Chief Thunderbird said, "The statement we have to make is of importance." And he stopped there, as though having trouble getting it out. He had everyone's full attention now. Sue-ling's eyes were on the Turtles, Sork had come out of his abstraction, Marco Ramos and Daisy Fay McQueen had swiv-eled their eyes around to get a better look at the Turtles. There was something strange about their bearing. Both of them had crossed their forearms across their platens, almost as though protecting themselves from something.
"We're waiting," Krake said testily.
The great Turtle's eyes roamed unhappily around the room. Then he seemed to sigh, and said, "We are aware that our mission has caused unnecessary troubles for you."
"Damn right it has," Krake exploded. "I should have my head examined for letting you drag us off on this silly chase."
"No," corrected Chief Thunderbird. "It was not silly. We do not regret our mission. It is evident that it has failed, but it was not wrong. It can never be wrong to work to save our Brotherhood! It is a different truth that we wish to express." He seemed to take a breath before continuing. "We acknowledge that, had we not interfered by coming to your planet, you human beings might have progressed in quite a different way. It is possible that you could have been exploring our own universe now, in search of new worlds and new opportunities of profitable trade even if—" His voice broke, even through the transposer, but he rallied and went on. "Even if the Brotherhood no longer may exist. But that is not the fault one wishes to confess. What we have done is something else."
He hesitated, looking dismally at his Younger Brother. Litlun made a slight gesture with one clawed hand, as though in sympathy. Then Chief Thunderbird plunged on. "We have come to see that some of our opinions have been unfair—"
Litlun engaged his transposer. "Have been wrong," he said succinctly.
"Yes, they have even been quite wrong," the Proctor admitted. "Your Earthly science is not an abomination. Indeed, one now believes that it contains truths which we have never acknowledged. My Younger Brother—" he waved one paw at Litlun—"joins me in the wish to state that we consider it to have been an error to discourage independent human scientific research."
The beak clamped grimly shut there, as though the distasteful effort of confession was over. Behind him Litlun stirred again.
"There is also the Taur matter," he reminded his Elder Brother.
Chief Thunderbird made a sound like a groan, but he jutted his jaw forward and said pugnaciously, "Yes, one must also discuss the Taur matter. We consider that our treatment of them, too, was an error." He glared pugnaciously at everyone in the room, and then he seemed to feel he had said everything necessary. He turned abruptly and waddled toward the doorway. Litlun turned to follow, but Sork interrupted.
"Hold it there," he said, astonishment battiing with anger in his tone. "What are you saying? Is it possible that you are apologizing to us?"
Litlun continued as though he had not heard, but at the doorway he stopped. Then, slowly, he turned back, both his eyes seeking Sork's.
"Yes," he said, and was gone.
"What a strange thing for any Turtle to say!" Sue-ling said to the room at large.
"And what a weird time and place to pick to say it," Daisy Fay agreed. "Maybe, now that they think we're all going to die, they're just trying to ease their consciences?"
"That's really wonderful of them, when it's too damned late to do any good," Krake said bitterly, and Sork grunted agreement.
Moon Bunderan spoke up. "I think it was nice of them to do it anyway," she said. "It must'vc been really hard for them, especially for that big one! And, oh, Thrayl! Did you hear? They as much as said they shouldn't have been treating all you Taurs the way they've done!"
Thrayl didn't answer. From his board, Marco Ramos turned both eyes to inspect the Taur. The sight was not reassuring. Thrayl's great horns were pallid, almost lifeless, and the huge purple-blue eyes were clouded. Although the Taur was far larger than Moon, it seemed to Marco that be was leaning on her. Nude except for the apron, Thrayl's covering of red fur was unkempt, his limbs trembling.
Krake was looking too. He gave a short laugh. "I don't think he even hears you, Moon. That's marvelous. Considering we're following his orders, he doesn't exactly inspire confidence, does he?" He began to walk around the control room, looking at each person in turn. "What do you think, Kiri? Are we all as crazy as I think we are, driving full speed ahead to nowhere? You haven't been talking much; don't you have an opinion?"
Kiri spread his hands. "We do what we have to do. We haven't had many choices, Francis," he said mildly.
"How well you put it," Krake remarked. "What about you, Marco? You've known me longer than these people. Am I losing it, letting a Taur take over?" He didn't wait for an answer but turned to Sork Quintero. "What about you? You haven't been much help. Isn't there anything in those lecture chips that you can pass on to us?"
Sork looked up at him, then rose. "There might just be, Krake," he said, his tone thoughtful. "I think I'll go listen to some."