Tu Shan’s look upon her was stricken. “Do you say that, Small Snow—Morning Glory?” He straightened. “Well, it shall not be.”
“Absolutely not,” Patulcius vowed. “We have our community to found.”
Aliyat caught his arm and leaned close against him. Her eyes defied Hanno. “Our homes to make,” she said.
Macandal nodded. “It’s a hard decision, but … we should go to Phaeacia first.”
“And last?” Hanno retorted. “I tell you, if we let this chance escape us, we can very well never get it back. Do you want to change your mind, Peregrino?” Wanderer sat expressionless for a while before he answered, “It is a hard decision after all. The greatest, most important adventure in history, which we risk losing, against—what may be New Earth, a fresh start for our race. Which is better, the forest or the stars?” Again he was mute, brooding. Abruptly: “Well, I said it before. The stars can wait.”
“Four against three,” Tu Shan reckoned, triumphant. “We continue as we were.” Softening: “I am sorry, friends.”
Hanno’s voice, face, bearing went altogether bleak. “I was afraid of this. Please think again.”
“I have had centuries to think,” Tu Shan said.
“To wish for the Earth of the past, you mean,” Yukiko told him, “an Earth that never really was. No, you wouldn’t deny humankind such a chance for knowledge, for coming closer to oneness with the universe. That would be nothing but selfish. You are not a selfish person, dear.”
He shook his head, ox-stubborn.
“Humankind has waited a long time for contact, and on the whole has not actually shown much interest,” Patulcius said. “It can wait a while longer. Our first duty is to the children we shall have, and can have only on Phaeacia.”
“They can better wait than this can,” Svoboda argued. “What we learn from the aliens, the help they give us, should make us the more secure when we do take our new home.”
“The opportunity may well be unique,” Hanno joined in. “I repeat, the aliens at Three are likely few, and pretty newly arrived. Else the Web at Sol would have picked up trace of them, or spacecraft of theirs would have arrived there. Unless— But we simply don’t know. Are they necessarily settled at Three? If we don’t accept their invitation— and they have no way of telling whether we’ve gotten it— will they stay, or will they move on? And will they necessarily move on toward Sol?”
“Will they necessarily still be at Three when we come?” countered Macandal. “If they are, will they necessarily be anything we can communicate with? No, it’s a long, dangerous detour for the sake of something that may be grand but may just as well prove futile. Let’s get on with our real business first.”
“As the computers and overlords on Earth planned for us,” Hanno gibed. He turned toward Wanderer. “Wouldn’t you, Peregrine, like for once to do something that wasn’t planned, that broke through the whole damned scheme of the world today?”
The other man sighed. “A tough call. Yes, I want to go to Three so bad I can taste it. And someday I hope to. But first and foremost, free life in a free nature—“ Pleadingly: “And I couldn’t do it to Corinne and Aliyat. I just can’t.”
“You’re a knight,” Aliyat breathed.
Yukiko smiled sadly. “Well, Hanno, Svoboda, we three are no worse off than we were yesterday, are we? Better, in fact, with a new dream before us.”
“For someday,” Svoboda mumbled. She lifted her head. “I am not angry with you, my friends. I too am weary of machines and hungry for land. So be it.”
The tension began to ease. Smiles flickered.
“No,” said Hanno.
Attention stabbed at him. He rose. “I am more sorry than you’ll ever guess,” he stated. “But I believe our need and our duty have changed. They are to go to Three. Till now, this venture was desperate. We pretended otherwise, but it was. Our chances looked about equal for perishing as miserably as the Norse did in Greenland, or settling into a sameness like the Polynesians in the Pacific.”
“You promoted it,” Patulcius virtually accused.