Spliid's voice sounded worried. "I hate this, Cliff. Your talents can be valuable to the Corps. We deal in cubic parsecs of space and aeons of time. It takes more than ordinary reasoning power to cope with it."
"I believe you mean it," Rowley said.
"I do. So what's Hume? One world in millions."
Rowley's switched him off. He bit his lip. It was Galethsurv's purpose to make single, cohesive sense out of the patch-work, and tatterdemalion shreds of human culture that had been systematically turned up in the galaxy. Where did the culture of Hume fit into that overall pattern?
Galethsurv believed that the distribution of mankind among the stars had not been accident. Where, then, had Man originated? It was important to know. Remembrance of yesterday points the way toward a more highly educated guess about tomorrow. Someday, Man would find out if—or why—he had been deliberately seeded among the stars. And then...?
"Sintaha Rowley, are you not also Keepers of the Trees on your own world?"
Tsu was so earnest with the question, Rowley was surprised. He made a wry grimace, half humorous.
"Of course, we grow trees for fruit, for shade and beauty, to cut down and make lumber for houses...."
She drew away from him, rigid, trembling.