That was when the thought that had been escaping him finally made itself clear. Godlike! Of course! The aiodoi were as close as anything could ever come to the churchly notion of an all-wise, all-seeing, all-powerful—but always mysterious, and never clearly seen—Jehovah or Allah or Whoever.
That thought was a relief. The human race had managed to live with the notion of a God for most of its history without being destroyed by it—surely they could do as well with the knowledge that there were aiodoi. And as to the Sh'shrane, and the division that had brought them about, perhaps hinted at by the presence of his two half-machine friends—
Standing in the makeshift surgery, he told Sue-ling Quong grimly, "We'll just have to be careful. We know what can happen. We'll remember. We won't let the same thing happen to us."
She looked up at him wonderingly over the body of her patient, and he realized the woman had hardly been listening to him. "Of course, Francis," she said vaguely. "But don't you think he's looking much better?"
Krake looked down at the patient on the table. Better than what? he wondered, but was too sensible to ask. Most of Sork/Kiri's—of Quintero\—bandages were off, and the eyes, if not really open, were sometimes at half mast. "I've been telling him what's happened," Sue-ling went on. "I think he's been understanding me—well, part of it anyway. It's really hard to be sure when he's asleep and when he's awake."
Krake was willing enough to agree to that. Still, just at that moment at least one of the barely focused eyes seemed to be directed at him, and the lips were twisting as though he were trying to speak. Nothing but a sort of staccato groan came up, and Sue-ling bent swiftly over him. "What is it, dear?" she asked. And then as the trembling lips ceased their motion again, she was reassuring. "Don't worry if it doesn't come this time," she said. "You'll be able to talk soon enough —and everything else, too. I promise!"
She quickly checked the readouts and the various tubes and wires that were sticking out of Quintero at all angles, then fondly eased his turbaned head on the pillow. When she was satisfied that her patient was benignly asleep again she stood up, yawning. She cocked an ear to the approaching, but distant, squawks of the two Turtles. "What do you suppose they're doing, Francis?" she asked.
"Getting to know each other, I guess. It's got to be a pretty stressful time for both of them."
She nodded. "I think—" he noticed that she didn't use a name, only gestured toward the patient—"he wanted to say something to them a little while ago, when they looked in. But I wouldn't let them stay, because he was getting too excited, and I didn't really understand him."
"I didn't know he could actually talk!"
"Of course! Well, not very well yet, of course. But soon."
Krake grunted. "And you don't know what he was trying to tell them?"
"I don't even know if that was what it was, Francis. Still, it was definitely something about the Turtles, I think. I only really caught two words. One was 'Lidun.' And I'm pretty sure the other was 'promise.'"
Krake repeated the words, "Litlun. Promise." He was no more than mildly interested . . . until the meaning of them sunk in.
Then he shouted aloud. "Of course!" he cried, causing Sue-ling to make reproachful shushing noises at him. "But he's right," he said, a little more softly, no less excited. "We've got to make sure of that before it's too late—Litlun's promise!"
It took hours to do, and he talked every item of it over with everyone else on The Golden Hind except the Turtles to make sure he had left nothing out. But when he was through Francis Krake had taken the forty or fifty items anyone had suggested and reduced them to a list of five items. He read it over twice. Then he crossed his fingers before he sent Marco Ramos scuttling off to find the Turtles and bring them to the control room.
Then he read the list over one more time to make sure while he was waiting. Five items—and every one a document comparable to the Bill of Rights or the Magna Carta:
"The Brotherhood, in consideration of the great services rendered to them by the human race—"
(They had squabbled more over the wording of that than over any of the actual clauses, but that was the way it had come out at last.)
"—agrees to make the following changes in its policy, effective at once:
"1. The Brotherhood will never again attempt to interfere with human science, education or other activities in any way.
"2. The Brotherhood will provide the human race with examples of every instrument, machine and design requested, and will assist human scientists in duplicating them; this specifically includes wave-drive spacecraft.
"3. The Brotherhood will provide the human race with means to decipher the contents of the "memo disks" so that they can be learned by humans without the loss of such memories when the chips are removed.
"4. The Brotherhood will at once stop the practice of enslaving or otherwise trafficking in Taurs for any purpose, in particular the practice of using them as foodstuffs; and will allow Taur males to develop normally; and will free all Taurs now in its possession."
And then, the catch-all paragraph to take care of anything they might have overlooked:
"5. Finally, the Brotherhood will, on request, assist both the human race and the Taurs in any other way necessary to establish their sovereignty over their own territories and their equal status with the Brotherhood."
Krake looked up from it and saw Moon Bunderan's eyes watching him from the other board. He grinned ruefully. "I'm not used to high-level diplomatic negotiations," he confessed.
She looked around as she heard someone approaching. She had just time to say, "You're doing just fine, Francis," before Marco and the two Turtles came in.
Rust-red Litlun looked like the tiny pet of the vast silvery nymph, but he was almost whistling with excitement. "Facilitator," Krake said at once, "I want to remind you—"
But Litlun interrupted. "It is not proper to address this one as 'Facilitator' any more," he squawked, and even through the transposer his voice sounded elated. "She Who Is to Be the Mother has agreed, and now one is to be called He Who Is to Be the Consort."
"Right," said Krake, trying to get on with it. He held up the list. "Now, what you and the Proctor promised—"
But he couldn't finish that either. "Marco Ramos has spoken of this," Litlun squawked. "One has accordingly spoken to She Who Is to Be the Mother, and she has accepted the agreement. Is that your list? Give it to me!"
And he took it in one clawed hand and passed it to the nymph, cackling and cawing to her with the transposer off. She did not hesitate. She scratched at the bottom of the list with one sharp claw and handed it back.
Krake stared down at the sheet of paper, surgically sliced where the nymph had slashed it. "Is that it?" he asked. "Isn't there something else we should do?"
"There is nothing," Litlun stated positively, "except to get us back to our proper time safely, Captain Krake. We must start our nuptial nest very quickly!" He hesitated, glancing at the nymph, who was showing signs of boredom with this conversation in another language. "One has a question, however. Since the Mother planet is destroyed one will need a new nesting place for the brood that is to be. What would you think of your planet Mercury? It is of no value to you. It is true that the temperature is gready elevated, but there is ample radiation to feed the hatchlings—"
He broke off as he saw the expression on Krake's face. "What is it, Captain Krake?" the Turde demanded. "Is there some reason the planet Mercury would not be appropriate?" Krake shook his head, dismayedly contemplating the possibility of a world of Turtles as near neighbors. "Not that I know of," he said reluctantly.