Over two hundred ushers with ballot boxes on poles were stationed at the ends of the aisles, each responsible for ten rows. This was a vote that nobody was going to miss.
“All right, I guess we’ve heard from everyone who said they wanted to speak—and a few who said they didn’t,” he said, while the simulacrum of himself that towered over him boomed out the words through the sound system. “And I guess the experts have answered all our questions. So I’m going to call on Jun Davd to sum it up, and then we can get on with the vote.”
He left the podium to sit with Mim and the others, mopping his brow a little too soon, so that a departing slice of the holo image made a swipe with a bedsheet-size handkerchief before he was completely offstage.
Jun Davd nodded as he squeezed past, then got up and took his place on the podium. His holo image, lithe with the common youth of the human race, leaned toward the crowd and said mildly, “We’re still on the previously set course that will take us to the star we believe to be Sol. If we want to change that course, we should do so now. We’ve reached approximately one-fortieth of the speed of light, and within a few more days we’ll be beyond the effective limits of this system.”
A vast troubled murmuring went through the audience, and voices were raised in different parts of the hall.
Jun Davd’s holo raised a billboard palm. “Please, we’ve been through it all before. We believe that all the nearby stars, to a distance of about twenty light-years from Sol, are—or soon will be—inhabited by our dragonfly successors on earth. If that’s the case, we have no home here. There is a sizable faction among us who want to flee this sector of space without further ado and search for a home elsewhere in the galaxy. And I can’t say I blame them, after what we’ve seen here.”
There were shouts of agreement from the crowd. A man near the front rose, shaking his fist, and was shushed by his neighbors.
“But there is another faction,” Jun Davd went on, “who believe we should have a look at Sol anyway. We’ve heard from some of them tonight. They argue that we can’t know for sure that our recent adversaries come from Earth, though all the biological studies indicate that they do. What if we’re mistaken? What if Earth is not denied to us? What if the dragonfly ship came from elsewhere or was a lone survivor fleeing some planetary disaster? In that case, it would be a shame to have journeyed so far without even getting a glimpse of our goal.”
There were more angry shouts from the audience. Jun Davd’s looming holo waited them out, hands on its hips.
“There’s one more thing to consider,” he said when the noise subsided. “Even if the worst is true, oughtn’t we to know more about these terrifying creatures? How far have they advanced since they launched their colony ship? How fast are they likely to spread? How far ought we to flee before we’re safe? A thousand light-years? Ten thousand? To the opposite side of the galaxy? And when we get there, will we find them waiting for us—having arrived in ships that set out centuries after we did but were a few decimal places faster?”
That got to everybody. A subdued silence fell over the massed rows as Jun Davd went on.
“We believe that we can fly through the Sol system without danger and make a survey from space. With our engine off, we’re unlikely to be spotted. And even if we were, we ought to be safe from being boarded unless we went into the close planetary orbit, as we did here. I doubt that they would be able to match velocities with us on a hyperbolic orbit through the system.” He paused. “And if they tried—why, we’d see them coming from a long way off, and we’d turn on our engine and outrun them.”
A flurry of voices went through the audience as people turned to their neighbors to comment. Jun Davd let the commotion run on for a bit, then raised a flat palm again.
“Of course, after the terrible events that we’re all familiar with, it would be perfectly understandable if we voted not to take that chance. On that subject, perhaps we ought to hear from a member of the patrol, who I believe has something to tell us.”
Edard got up. He evidently had just come off duty and still had his treeguard armband on. His voice was tense as he spoke.
“We just found two more and killed them. No casualties this time. We have a new weapon that doesn’t let them get close to us—provided we outnumber them by a fair margin, of course. We believe that was the last of them. Except…”
He looked troubled. He pushed back a mop of dark hair and continued. “Except that one of them evidently bored holes in the cambium of a passage and laid eggs—several tens of them. We came upon one of the hatchlings. They’re about as long as your thumb and they look exactly like the adults, except that perhaps they’re stubbier. And they bite.”
His holo held up a bandaged hand.
“We destroyed all the eggs we could find—and we had some help. When our Cuddlies saw what we were doing, they took a hand, too. They’re good at getting into small places … and they’re wild about eggs! We saw them chase down hatchlings, as well. Let me tell you that Cuddlies can bite, too.”
A subdued sound of nervous laughter went through the chamber.
Edard smiled in response. “At the moment, there are several hundred Cuddlies prowling through the passageways, looking for eggs and hatchlings. They’re very imitative beasts, as we all know. Pickings were slim after the first few hours—but we’ve all seen how persistent a Cuddly can be. I don’t think that after a few Tendays we’ll have to worry about nymphs being aboard the tree.” He sobered. “But of course, we intend to keep the treeguard patrols going indefinitely.” His holo gave a grin. “And on that subject, we’d be pleased to have more volunteers.”
He sat down next to Bram and Mim. Jao leaned across and said, “Nice going.”
Jun Davd was smiling to himself. Bram said, “Why are you so pleased with yourself, you old reprobate?” Bram asked. You undermined your own case when you let Edard remind everybody how dangerous the nymphs are.”
“We’ll see,” Jun Davd said.
The ushers moved swiftly down the aisles. A ballot box was shoved at Bram on its long pole, and he pushed the yes button. The box slid past him to pause at Mim and Edard. Jao tried to vote twice and looked unabashed when the usher caught him at it and said, “None of that, brother.”
The voting was over in twenty minutes. Yes and no votes went much faster than multiple-choice votes, as when there was a slate of candidates. The ushers brought their boxes to the clerk, who plugged them one at a time into a tabulator.
The tally figures floated in holographic projection, huge, glowing, and changing so rapidly that the final digits were a blur. But the trend was clear.
“It’s going to be almost unanimous,” Jao said. “I don’t believe it.”
The last few figures clicked into place. The crowd waited a moment to take it in, then a great cheer went up.
“That’s it,” Jun Davd said. “We’re going to Sol.”
CHAPTER 11
Earth hung before them, a soiled brown ball swirled around with dingy clouds. Its moon had an atmosphere, too, if that yellowish soup could be called air.
“What have they done to it?” someone whispered.
Brown oceans, brown air—it was a planet drowned in swill. But incredibly, there was life there. The planet was thick with life, in fact, to judge by all the microwave radiation, the chemical pollutants revealed by infrared spectra, the hydrocarbons that choked the clouds, the orbital junk.