included in the manual, because there is usually a language barrier.
It was his speaking the language that made the difference.

"This is the only immediately habitable planet. You don't realize how
expensive and cumbersome and logistically difficult it is to set up
the simplest station on an abnormal planet. Tons of equipment are
needed just to compensate for a few degrees too much temperature, or a
few degrees too little, or excessive natural radiation, or a slight
off balance of atmosphere. Or even if a planet is _apparently_
habitable, there's no way of being absolutely sure until there have
been people actually living on it for a while. There isn't time for
all this. Can't you just believe me?"

"I believe you," Juba said, "and the answer is no. It is not my
decision to make. I cannot decide for my people. And if I could, the
answer would still be no. That is exactly why we cut ourselves off
from the rest of civilization. To stay out of your wars, to carry on
civilization when you have laid it waste. That is why we are a planet
of parthenogenetic women."

"Is it?" he asked. "Was it to carry on the torch for civilization or
to flee from it? Life flows, Juba. If it doesn't flow forward, it
flows backward. Which way does your world go?"

Which way? The little stream scrambled over its bright rocks, flashing
the sunlight like teeth laughing.

Which way? The servants, the pets, the gladiatorial contests. The old
goddesses. Were we becoming weary with time? Juba wondered. What sense
did it make? What future did it mold?

* * * * *

The Man got up and came to put his arms around Juba, crossing his
arms over her chest and putting his hands on her shoulders. He leaned
down until she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.

Then it was that Juba could feel from his strength that everything he
said must be right, because he said it, and that he was the name for
all those things inside her which had no name.

"I cannot bring you in for the Ceremonies," Juba said. "Whatever you
are and whatever I am--these futures must lie with the goddesses. But
sacrifice you I cannot." She turned in his arms. "Go," she said. "And
quickly."

He kissed her. "I will not go," he said, and she wanted very much for
him to stay, but not for the Ceremonies.

"I was to draw you into the gladiatorial contests," she said, "with
rich promises. But I cannot. For those who die it is bad. But for
those w