An hour later we were taken by police back to our guarded ship. So many were on duty that the crowds had drifted back to Osmand. Fires were out now, and only the street lights were visible. Osmand, to all outward appearances, was peacefully going to bed. Shadrak, summoned at our call, came to the telescreen. "I was afraid," he said after Jim reported. "You have done your best. You have my permission to depart Spor immediately. The Noir is within twelve hours of Maj." "Let's go," I cried. Maybe Tarquin and the others had some hope, but I was ready to go. Jim's next words sent cold chills down my spine. "May we stay, till sunrise sir. We should have at least four hours after the sun of Maj is blotted out, before Spor is reached. Maybe, after they see the sun eclipsed, some will come to us." "There is a chance," Shadrak conceded. "But do not delay. If none come, be prepared to take the course already transcribed on the robot screen." It was midnight. I noted the absence of all stars ahead of Jim. "It's spreading," I told him. All at once I felt chilled. It was like a thick, cloudy night on Earth, only more eerie. Like being in a cave. The darkness seemed to bear down on the lights of Osmand and make them dimmer. Neither of us slept. We couldn't. We worked on our course plot, inspected the entire hull and paced every deck till the hour for daylight. * * * * * Only, there was no daylight. The chronometers aboard the ship checked Martian time, which we still kept. And yet Osmand's lights glowed, and the rest of Spor was in the darkness of a grotto. Then the city's lights went out. We went outside, staring, conscious of abrupt coldness. Suddenly there were sirens screaming, then bells. All at once the lights flashed back on again. "The sun--the sun of Maj," Jim exclaimed, "it's blotted out. Forever, maybe." Panic gripped me. "Let's scram," I told him. Jim shook his head. He ran into the ship, switched on all lights. The landing lights put the entire plain in a warm glow. Jim said the people could see us. So we waited. Lights of a fast moving car sped along the highway from Osmand. It came on, to a quick stop. We saw Tarquin, and a group of men his age. "They're coming," I told Jim. "They've changed their minds." "Tell the others to hurry," Jim shouted, as he ran forward to meet them. "We haven't more than an hour. The Noir is racing toward Spor from the sun." Tarquin looked like a man already at the door of the beyond. He walked to us, slowly, head lifted. Then he stopped, and we saw he wore the robes of his office. So did the others. Slowly Tarquin spoke. "We are not going with you, Jim Drake." "Not going! But man, you know the end. It's death, in less than two hours. We're risking our own lives and we thought--" "None of my family wishes to leave Osmand," the governor said quietly. "Therefore, I have no desire to survive, without them." "But all of you can live, if you come with us."