Captain Torkel cautiously raised the shining flagon to his lips. He sipped. It was more than wine. It was a sparkling, bubbling nectar of the gods. His throat and stomach glowed under its stimulating warmth. An almost miraculous sense of peace and well-being flooded through his body. It was as if he had become a god.
"More?" asked Taaleeb.
"Well—just a little."
Captain Torkel drank again. To Lieutenant Washington, he said, "I guess I was wrong. The Sirians are fine people. They really do like us."
The lieutenant drained his golden flagon. "I'm sure of it."
"Me, too," said Fox, pouring more of the sparkling liquid into Kelly's mouth. "I'd like to stay here always."
"Heaven," gurgled Kelly.
"You like the wine?" asked the smiling Sirian.
"Yes!"
"You relish our food?"