The bus started to move again. Joel was regarding the Ganelon girl with a frown. "You actually live in the jungle with those things roaming about?"
"Yes. They don't bother us."
He looked incredulous. "Why not? Don't they like your flavor?"
Tamis giggled. "We can control them—a little. They don't think. They react to external stimuli."
"I see," said Joel. But he didn't.
He heard a wailing siren overhauling them fast from the direction of the spaceport. The bus pulled over to let an escort of guards on armored prowl-cycles roar past. Immediately following them, came a plastic tear-drop tri-wheeler. The governor and his daughter were lounging back in its roomy seats.
Priscilla glimpsed Joel and waved mockingly. Then the procession was gone, a second detachment of guards bringing up the rear.
Buildings, Joel noticed, had begun to replace the jungle, buildings of thick opaque plastic without windows. The moving sidewalks, shaded by gaudy awnings, were crowded with men and women clad in little more than shorts and sandals.
The air, Joel realized, was stifling. The dazzling yellow ball that was Alpha Centauri A rode high in the steel blue sky. Alpha Centauri B was a smaller molten-orange sun swimming just above the horizon. Joel had never felt such heat before. It was like the engine room of a tramp spacer.
The bus slowed down, swung into the curb. Captain Goplerud shouted, "Pile out!"