"What came to pass aboard this ship all those centuries ago?" he said. "Why was I here? And what killed the others? Someday, somehow I must learn the truth of this matter." "What I can't figure out is why somebody didn't come after this ship. It was right here in orbit." "Consider the immensity of space, Legion. This is one tiny world, among the stars." "But there was a station here, fitted out for handling your ships. That sounds like it was a regular port of call. And the books with the pictures: they prove your people have been here off and on for thousands of years. Why would they stop coming?" "There are such beacons on a thousand worlds," said Foster. "Think of it as a buoy marking a reef, a trailblaze in the wilderness. Ages could pass before a wanderer chanced this way again. The fact that the ventilator shaft at Stonehenge was choked with the debris of centuries when I first landed there shows how seldom this world was visited." I thought about it. Trying to piece together Foster's past would be a slow process. I had an idea: "Say, you said you were in the memory machine. You woke up there--and you'd just had your memory restored. Why not do the same thing again, now? That is, if your brain can take another pounding this soon." "Yes," he said. He stood up abruptly. "There's just a chance. Come on!" * * * * * I followed him out of the library into the room with the bones. Foster walked across to the fancy couch, leaned down, then shook his head. "No," he said. "Of course it wouldn't be here...." "What?" "My memory-trace: the one that was used to restore my memory--that other time." Suddenly I recalled the cylinder I had pocketed hours before. With a surprising flutter at my heart I held it up. "This it?" Foster glanced at it briefly. "No, that's an empty--like those you see filed over there." He pointed to the rack of pewter-colored cylinders on the opposite wall. "They would be used for emergency recordings. Regular multi-life memory-traces would be key-coded with a pattern of colored lines." "It figures," I said. "That would have been too easy." "It doesn't matter, really. When I return to Vallon, I'll recover my past. There are vaults in Okk-Hamiloth where every citizen's trace is stored." "I guess you'll be eager to get back there," I said. "Have you been able to figure out how long you were marooned down on Earth?" "Since I descended from this ship, Legion," he said, "three thousand years have passed." "I'm going to miss you, Foster," I said. "You know, I was kind of getting used to being an apprentice nut." "Come with me to Vallon, Legion," he said. "Thanks anyway, buddy," I said. "I'd like to see those other worlds of yours but in the end I'd regret it. I'd just sit around on Vallon pining for home: beat-up people, and all." * * * * * "Then what can I do for you, Legion, to reward your loyalty and express my gratitude?"