There was no need for paddles, since a modified leafboat constructed by Homekind and transported by Homekind always naturally had built-in propulsion. Tiny molecules of water were converted along the underside of the leaf into a moderate amount of energy which shoved them forward under Homekind's magnetic command toward a collection of tall glass spires.
"Remember, Gelerie," Threlkeld said to the dreaming girl who let her hand dangle in the waters of Earth, "my future is at stake. You are a six-footed tree-hanging creature. You will return to your native form the moment our mission is completed. Now I will not warn you again. Another moody spell and we return to the vehicle with only one thing assured—Threlkeld the Great's impending retirement."
But if he expected an assurance out of Gelerie that she would not fail, he was wrong, for she did not respond.
They abandoned the leaf boat as the foot of a sign, which in their compact Earth-translation scheme provided by one milligram of the pill they had taken, said, Forty-second Street. They scaled the elevated structures with almost natural animal precision and carefully dodged the ground vehicles that sped toward them on ramps. Then they were on the premises of their destination. A large white building touching the sky, and beside it a curved, oblong structure which Threlkeld whispered contained Earth's government.
"He is to be a diplomat?" she asked.
"Sh," he said, as people hurried past them, turning to inspect Gelerie's brief toggery.
They ascended a ramp to the glassed foyer. Then they were inside, gaping at the height of the ceiling, at the overhanging balconies. A young woman with Oriental qualities approached them. "May I be of assistance?"
"Oh, Father," Gelerie said, fascinated at the human voice.
"We wish," Threlkeld began guardedly, "to speak with the youngest member of the world government—"