* * * * * Henderson shook his head. "You won't make it. The rains have already started. All ships are grounded for the next twenty-four hours. Security ordinance." The woman snorted. "I'll chance that. All I ask from you is a few hours before you report the stolen ship. Get it? And in return I'm doing you a favor when I find him. I'm trusting you, you trust me." Henderson sighed. He looked at his heat gun in the woman's hand, looked up then into the woman's eyes. She nodded. Put his gun back on the table. "Yeah. See what you mean. I won't need yours. A deal?" "A deal." He watched her go. He listened to the 'copter take off. After that there was another silence in the room, a very heavy silence. He slowly crossed to the transmitted set in the corner. Hesitated. Slowly brought up his hand and touched a button. The little screen came into life. He said softly: "Henderson to Flight 9." "Flight 9. Yes, Chief." His voice became even softer: "A 'copter. Registration X-13-X. Pilot Arthur Sterling. Took off five minutes ago from Fraon. Headed for Jao." "One moment, Chief, I'll put radar on it." A pause. Then: "Right, sir. Got it. Coming fast. Helluva nerve that guy's got. Don't he know all ships are supposed to be grounded?" Henderson shook his head. "It's all right. He had a little trouble. I gave permission to continue flight. Contact Jao, tell them I said not to bother it. Got that?" "Whatever you say, Chief. Right." "Thanks." Henderson flicked the set off. He looked over at the gun on the table. He picked it up, took it with him into the bedroom. He laid it on the unoccupied pillow next the sleeping woman's head. He didn't look down at her now. He quietly went back to the living room, went to a black metallic desk up against a wall. From it he took a very small box with a little gold plate inset in the lid. Engraving on the plate winked up in the light: _From Sarah to John_ Wedding present. He lifted the lid, looked down at a tiny reel of tape inside. He touched a button under the lid. Music filled the room quite softly for a moment. Organ music. Wedding music. And then no more music. But voices, a man's voice, and a woman's voice. When it got to the part where the woman's voice said, "I take thee, John ..." he stopped it. He re-reeled the tape, put it back where it had been before. Then his trembling fingers touched the erase button, held it there until the entire little reel had run off. After that there wasn't anything else to do but go to the front lock, go outside, go away from Residential Number 327. The night was dark, very dark. A very good night for the Rain.