The attendant nodded and waved hands to an approaching crew. They nodded at Wanniston, too, and then swarmed through the ship, servicing it. Before Wanniston was at the registry office, the ship was lifted and slid over to the row upon row of parked spacecraft. Wanniston noted its position and then entered the register. "Name?" asked the official. "Wan Nes Stan," said he, putting the Galactic pronunciation to his own name. "You have the ship formerly registered with Emissary Gerd Lel Rayne. Has he another?" Wan Nes Stan was stopped momentarily, but his plan to brazen it out laid another pathway. "Not that I know of," he said. "I'll see that another is delivered to him. You'll not be returning that way?" "If I do," said Wan Nes Stan boldly, "I shall go in the way I got there before." "Naturally." Wan Nes Stan almost gulped visibly. He wondered for a moment whether the Galactic was having sport at his expense, or being sarcastic, or whether he was completely taken in by the boldness. Wan Nes Stan entered his first Galactic city. To any Terran, it would have been nonunderstandable in scope, but to Wan Nes Stan it was beautiful as it should be, and yet not perfect. Color combinations were there beyond the concept of any Terran, all blended in a mad, ever-moving kaleidoscope of sheer symphony. Faint, stirring music emanated from everywhere--there seemed to be no focal point--and the blend of music with color matched exactly. Either would have been unfinished without the other, and both would have been incomplete without the senses of smell, taste, and feel that were excited ever so delicately. There was no sign of the bustle and hustle of a mighty city. The indolent and the loafer all moved in a precision pattern that gave the impression of smooth machinery that wasted no motion in accomplishing its end. Its end? What could any such perfection need with an end? Was this not the end? No, Wan Nes Stan knew that this was not the end. This was not perfection, any more than any Terran city was the ultimate in combined beauty and utility. This was not the least of the Galactic cities, nor was it the best. It--was average. This was home. He no longer looked down upon the crawling, struggling race of creatures that called themselves _homo sapiens_ any more than any Terran looked derisively at a dog. They knew the dog's place in the scheme of things and Wan Nes Stan and the rest of the Galactic Ones knew homo sap's place. There was no scorn in his mind now. The fact that he had once aspired to rule Terra did not appear to him to be a lowly ambition; Wan Nes Stan knew that it was a laudable ambition at one time in his rise-- "... _When he became of age he put away childish things._"