"Very, very touching," Michael agreed. "Are they sick or something?"
"Oh, no; they wouldn't have been permitted on the bus if they were. They're just homesick. Sirians love being homesick. That's why they leave Sirius in such great numbers."
"Fasten your suction disks, please," the stewardess, a pretty two-headed Denebian, ordered as she walked up and down the gangway. "We're coming into Portyork. I have an announcement to make to all passengers on behalf of the United Universe. Zosma was admitted into the Union early this morning."
All the passengers cheered.
"Since it is considered immodest on Zosma," she continued, "ever to appear with the heads bare, henceforward it will be tabu to be seen in public without some sort of head-covering."
Wild scrabbling sounds indicated that all the passengers were searching their packs for headgear. Michael unearthed a violet cap.
The salesmen unfolded what looked like a medieval opera hat in piercingly bright green.
