"This, then, is the end? Very well--" A burst of his former defiance flamed in him. He forced a laugh. "You have won, Dirk Morris. And the death I promised you lies in store for me? Well ... so be it. It has been a long game, but one worth the playing. Of one thing you cannot rob me ... the memory that once I ruled the mightiest empire known to man." But again it was Rima who spoke. Her voice was like a crystal bell. "Not death, Graed Garroway. It is the right of none to judge that ultimate penalty on another. _Exile_ shall be your fate. Those who know your system better than I shall decide which planet ... or planetoid far removed from Earth ... shall be your final refuge. "Neil Hardesty--" She turned to the listening captain--"send him away. Your new government shall sit in judgment on him later." Hardesty nodded, motioned to Shaughnessey, and the erstwhile Overlord was led away. With him were herded from the room, none too gently, those who had been his companions in the attempt to trap Dirk. Within a matter of minutes the hall was cleared save for a handful: Dirk and Rima, in her glowing pillar of flame; Hardesty, the Princess Lenore. In the Princess' eyes glittered a great defiance and a great sorrow. She asked, "And I? I join my father in exile?" Rima looked at Dirk. "Well, Dirk Morris?" she asked. Dirk's throat was dry, his mind confusion. He said, "Must ... must I, then, be the one to judge, Rima? She saved my life ... or tried to. Were it not for her--" Rima said gently, "You love her. Isn't that what you mean, Dirk?" Dirk's head turned slowly; his eyes met those of the Princess Lenore. And what he found there forced the answer from his lips. "Yes, Rima. May the gods help me ... I love her." "That," said the Nadronian girl, "I know. And this also I know ... that she loves you. Does she love you enough to join you in the new world which is the only one whereon you now can live? Enough to join you on Nadron?" It was Lenore who answered that question. She said simply, "I do not understand your meaning, woman who dwells in a column of flame ... but this much I _do_ know. Where Dirk Morris dwells, there would I dwell also." Rima nodded, satisfied. "That, too, I had expected. It is well. She will make you a good mate, Dirk Morris. I wish--" There was a strange catch in her voice, a catch clenched teeth upon her lower lip could not quite stifle--"I wish you ... much joy ... in my lost, beloved homeland--" Dirk stared at her aghast, uncomprehending. "Rima!" he cried. "Lost homeland? I don't understand--" The maid of Nadron smiled wanly. Her voice, when she spoke, was infinitely gentle. "Surely _you_ should know, Dirk Morris, that one cannot pass with impunity from one universe of vibration to another?" Dirk said, "You mean that you, as I did, have become a ... a wraith to your own world? That henceforth you have no true existence on Nadron, as I none on Earth?" Rima nodded quietly, sadly.