She gulped. "Yes," she said, so low he could barely hear her. "Yes, I know I will." She turned and ran back to her mother. The raindrops glistened in her hair. Zarek came up behind Jorun. "I made a last-minute sweep of the whole area," he said. "Detected no sign of human life. So it's all taken care of, except your old man." "Good," said Jorun tonelessly. "I wish you could do something about him." "So do I." Zarek strolled off again. A young man and woman, walking hand in hand, turned out of the line not far away and stood for a little while. A spaceman zoomed over to them. "Better get back," he warned. "You'll get rained on." "That's what we wanted," said the young man. The spaceman shrugged and resumed his hovering. Presently the couple re-entered the line. The tail of the procession went by Jorun and the ship swallowed it fast. The rain fell harder, bouncing off his force-shield like silver spears. Lightning winked in the west, and he heard the distant exuberance of thunder. Kormt came walking slowly toward him. Rain streamed off his clothes and matted his long gray hair and beard. His wooden shoes made a wet sound in the mud. Jorun extended the force-shield to cover him. "I hope you've changed your mind," said the Fulkhisian. "No, I haven't," said Kormt. "I just stayed away till everybody was aboard. Don't like goodbyes." "You don't know what you're doing," said Jorun for the--thousandth?--time. "It's plain madness to stay here alone." "I told you I don't like goodbyes," said Kormt harshly. "I have to go advise the captain of the ship," said Jorun. "You have maybe half an hour before she lifts. Nobody will laugh at you for changing your mind." "I won't." Kormt smiled without warmth. "You people are the future, I guess. Why can't you leave the past alone? I'm the past." He looked toward the far hills, hidden by the noisy rain. "I like it here, Galactic. That should be enough for you." "Well, then--" Jorun held out his hand in the archaic gesture of Earth. "Goodbye." "Goodbye." Kormt took the hand with a brief, indifferent clasp. Then he turned and walked off toward the village. Jorun watched him till he was out of sight. The technician paused in the air-lock door, looking over the gray landscape and the village from whose chimneys no smoke rose. _Farewell, my mother_, he thought. And then, surprising himself: _Maybe Kormt is doing the right thing after all._ He entered the ship and the door closed behind him. * * * * * Toward evening, the clouds lifted and the sky showed a clear pale blue--as if it had been washed clean--and the grass and leaves glistened. Kormt came out of the house to watch the sunset. It was a good one, all flame and gold. A pity little Julith wasn't here to see it; she'd always liked sunsets. But Julith was so far away now that if she sent a call to him, calling with the speed of light, it would not come before he was dead. Nothing would come to him. Not ever again.