Walther's lawyer emphasized one brief phrase, and sat down. Even Walther recognized the words: One hundred million credits. The Happy Time attorney slowly opened his eyes and heaved himself to his feet. He spread out both pudgy hands to the Judge, and shrugged his bulking shoulders. He spoke briefly, and the steel-edge was gone from his voice. "He suggests that the court in its wisdom, temper justice with mercy." Willy translated excitedly. After this it was a matter of detail, with the Prosecutor insisting only that Walther be kept in custody and deported immediately after the deposit had been arranged. The strain of the whole affair had been too much for Willy, but as the smiling servo-robot led Walther out of the courtroom, he called after him: "I'll be at the landing!" Walther knew he should be happy. He had found what he wanted on Earth. Not in the way he had hoped, but the final reckoning was the same. Still, there was an emptiness to it all, an emptiness and an aching. When he cleared customs, and was released by his servo-robot guard, Walther saw Willy Fritsh waiting beside the Cyngus III shuttleship. A half dozen of his musicians were with him. Willy said with simple directness: "If you want us, we'd like to go with you." Of all the things that had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours, this took Walther most completely by surprise. He stared, speechless, from Willy to the musicians, most of them older men. "These few came to me," Willy said. "They don't want to go back to our own music--Neither do I!" His voice broke, and he continued, pleading: "We can help bring your dream to life in the few years left to us." Walther enveloped the old maestro in a bear-hug that crushed the breath out of him. "Want you?" he cried. "Now, who's a fool?" "You are," gasped Willy, "if you thought I'd leave part of my heart behind!" Walther looked around quickly. At the top of the shuttleship ramp stood a young woman with half a smile and half a question on her lips. There was doubt in that smile, and fear. There was loneliness and wonder, and hope. It was a promise and a warning of all that lay ahead for them, out there beyond the stars. Humbly, more knowing that he had yet been in his short life, Walther held out his hands and walked up the ramp toward her--toward a dream that was over, and a reality that could be more bitter, more sweet, than any dream.