He looked up at the agonizingly slow sun, dying as all things must die. He looked at the great moon hurtling across the dark blue sky. It was falling, and though it might take a million years yet, it would surely meet the earth some day.
What then? An end to mankind. An end to all of nature as man knew it. An end to time as man knew it. Why keep fighting when the end was known?
Namalee, her eyes wide with the shock of his proposal to unite with their enemies, had moved closer to him. He put out an arm and drew her to him, though such intimacy in public was repugnant to her people. Poonjakee, embarrassed, turned his face away. The steersman looked upward.
She was soft and warm and in her was love and the promise of children.
And that is what keeps mankind going, Ishmael told himself. Though it seems incredible, our children may some day find a way to go to other suns, young stars. And then, someday, when the bright young star is an old red star, to still others. They haven't done so, apparently, in the millions of years that have gone by. But with a million years left, or even half a million, or a quarter of a million, mankind has time to beat Time.
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The Wind Whales of Ishmael Page 14