"I'm awake, dearest," she said, and opened her eyes. It was Cliff. "We've got to get him out of there," she said earnestly. "He's lost and trapped and . . ."
"Who? What are you talking about?"
She caught her head in her hands, suddenly aware of how much it hurt. "Why-" she looked up at Cliff Hawk, puzzled. "I forget."
He grimaced. "You're confused," he announced. "And a pest, besides. What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to stop you," she said dizzily. She was trying to remember what the very important thing was that Someone had said to her in her dream. If it had been a dream.
"Thought so. And look what you've done! As if I didn't have enough trouble."
Molly abandoned the fugitive memory. "There was an explosion," she said. "I got hurt."
Cliff Hawk looked suddenly less angry, more worried. Clearly Molly was telling him nothing he didn't already know. The rivulet of blood that ran down from a scrape on his forehead divided around his nose, blurred itself in the blue stubble of beard on his cheeks and chin. It made him look like a dangerous clown. But a clown with some great fear riding his back.
"We—we had an accident. Molly, go back to Wisdom Creek."
She shook her head, and then, without preamble, began to cry.
Hawk swore violently, but his touch was gentle as he reached swiftly down, caught her shoulders, helped her to her feet and into the cave. Molly let herself weep without shame, but it did not keep her from seeing that the cave was in fact a workshop, lined with glittering metal, rich with instruments and machines. A corona of pale violet hung over a humming golden globe, now soiled and dented from whatever it was that had exploded nearby. She heard the distant howl of a power tube, screaming to itself like the bass-C pipe of a steam calliope as it sucked energy from the air. She let him find her a seat on a wobbly laboratory stool, accepted a tissue and dabbed at her nose.
"You've got to go back," Cliff Hawk told her with rough tenderness. "I'm busy."
"You're in trouble!" she corrected. "It's dangerous, Cliff. Leave the rogue stars alone! I'll go back to Wisdom Creek if you come with me."
"I can't. We've had this out before."
"But you're risking your life—the whole world . . ."
"Molly." Awkwardly he touched her shoulder. "I can't stop. Even if it costs me my life. Even if it destroys the world. Did you mean it when you said you loved me? Then go back and leave me alone."
Andy Quam puffed around the corner and shouted, "Say, there! Wait a minute, will you?"
The three boys he had spied were ambling down the dusty road, yards away. They paused and looked around at him, politely curious. "Morning, preacher," nodded one of them. "Help you?"
"Yes. I hope so, anyway. I mean—well, where is everybody?"
"Starday, preacher. All off worshipping, mostly. 'Cept us."
"I'm not a preacher, young man. I. . ."
The boy looked him over. "Then why do you wear that funny suit?"
Quamodian blushed. "It's the uniform of the Companions of the Star. I'm Monitor Quamodian. I'm trying to find . . ."
"Gee, preacher!" The boy was showing the first real signs of interest now. "Companion of the Star? Then you go all over the galaxies, honest? And see all the funny Citizens with the green skins and the two heads and . . ."
"It is very impolite to make fun of a Citizen's appearance," said Andy Quam severely. "We are all equally star-shared."
"Oh, sure. Gee! Ever seen a sun go nova, preacher? Or fought ammonia creatures on a gas giant, or. . ."
Andy Quam said honestly, "Young man, my task has been mostly supervisory and statistical. I have had no adventures of any kind. Except this one."
"You're having an adventure now?"
"More adventure than I like. There's something very serious going on. I'm looking for Molly Zaldivar."
The second boy, a chubby redhead, spoke up. "Gone to the hills, preacher. Looking for her friends, I bet."
"Shut up, Rufe! They're not her friends!"
"Who are you telling to shut up, Rob? Just cause you're soft on Molly Zaldivar . . ." "I'm warning you, Rufe!"
"What's the secret? Everybody knows you're stuck on her. And everybody knows she likes that fellow that lives in the—get your hands off me!"
Andy Quam grabbed them hastily. "Boys! If you're going to fight, please wait till I'm finished with you. Did you say you know where Molly is?"
The redhead broke free and brushed himself off, glowering at the other boy. "About thirty miles from here. Bet she is, anyway. Gone to the cave where the fellow lives with the Reefer and that animal. Kill themselves one day, my father says."
"How do I get there?" Andy Quam demanded.
"Why—no way, preacher. Not on Starday. Unless you want to walk."
"But it's very important—" Quamodian stopped himself. The boy was probably right. Still, it was already late afternoon, local time on this part of the planet, and at midnight he would be able to get things straightened out. He said, "What's a Reefer?"
"Man from the reefs of space, of course. Got one of those reef animals with him. They call it a sleeth."
"Big one," the third boy said suddenly. "My brother claims it can kill you soon's look at you."
"Killed three hunting dogs already," confirmed Rufe. "I wouldn't go near it for anything," he added virtuously. "My father told me not to."
Andy Quam looked at him thoughtfully. He said, "I bet you can tell me how to get there, though."
"Might, preacher."
"You could even show me, if you wanted to."
"Get in trouble with my dad if I did."
"Uh-huh. Say, boys. Back in my flyer I've got some rare goodies from a planet in Galaxy 5. Care to try them? Then maybe you can tell me a little more about this cave up in the hills."
The boys clamored for a ride in the flyer. The hundred-meter limitation was still in effect, but Andy Quam shepherded them all inside, closed the doors and ordered the flyer to rise to its legal limit and hover. It was the best he could do for them. And good enough, to judge from their shouts and yells as they thrust each other out of the way to see from the ports.
For that matter, Andy was interested too. Apart from his burning anxiety to find Molly Zaldivar as quickly as possible, this was old Earth, home of Man.
He felt a vague disappointment as he looked from the hovering flyer. He had expected vast, fantastic ancient cities, or at least the fabulous monuments and ruins of the long human past. But there was nothing like that. The land that sloped away from Wisdom Creek was reddish-brown and empty. The village itself was a disappointment. Only the Star church looked striking from the air, star-shaped, five pointed wings projecting from its central dome. The roofs and columns of the wings were all a dazzling white, the dome itself black as space and transparent, with brilliant images of the thirteen component suns of Almalik swimming within it.
"That's my house there, preacher," cried Rufus. "And see that road? Goes out to the mountains. That's where Miss Zaldivar is."
Andy Quamodian leaned forward, over their heads, and peered into the distance. The village was cradled in the bend of a stream. To the south a dam across the stream made a long, narrow lake, crossed by a trestle that carried a road toward the high, hazed hills on the horizon. "That's thirty miles, you said?"
"Nearer twenty-five, preacher."
"Which hill is it?"
"Can't tell from here. Have to show you. Can't show you today, not till the Peace of Starday's over."
Quamodian looked at him sharply. The boy's tone was—what? Cynical? Merely disinterested? "How come you're not in church?" he asked tardily.
The boy's face was impassive. "We don't cotton to the Star," he said. "My dad says the old religion's good enough for us."
"But Almalik's not opposed to any other religion, boys. It's not mystical. It's—oh, you must have been taught all this! It's a symbiotic association of stars and men and robots and fusorians, that's all."