"I don't know what's the matter with those two," Sylvie told him. "They always seem to be scrapping with each other now, and the only thing they can agree on is that you and your father ought to stop whatever you're doing, right away. Your mother can't adjust to your father being a big Storisende businessman, and she says he'll lose every centisol he has and both of you will probably go to jail, and then she's afraid you will find Merlin, and Flora's sure you and your father are swindling everybody on the planet." "Sylvie, I had no idea things would be like that," he told her contritely. "I wish I hadn't suggested that you stay there, now." "Oh, it isn't so bad, so far. Your mother and I get along all right when Flora isn't there, and Flora and I get along when your mother isn't around. Mealtimes aren't much fun, though." His father came out from Storisende, looked the ship over, and seemed relieved. "I'm glad you're ready to get off," he said. "You know this hyperspace freighter, the _Andromeda_? Some private group in Storisende has chartered her. She's loading supplies now. I have a private detective agency, Barton-Massarra, trying to find out where's she's going. I think you'd better get this ship off, right away." "We have everything aboard, all the supplies and everything," Jacquemont told him. "We can lift off tonight." III The ship lurched slightly. In the outside screens, the lights around, the crowd that was waving good-bye, and the floor of the crater began receding. The sound pickups were full of cheering, and the boom of a big gun at one of the top batteries, and the recorded and amplified music of a band playing the traditional "Spacemen's Hymn." "It's been a long time since I heard that played in earnest," Jacquemont said. "Well, we're off to see the Wizard." The lights dwindled and merged into a tiny circle in the darkness of the crater. The music died away; the cannon shots became a faint throbbing. Finally, there was silence, and only the stars above and the dark land and the starlit sea below. After a long while a sunset glow, six hours past on Barathrum, appeared in the west, behind the now appreciable curvature of the planet. "Stand by for shift to vertical," Captain Nichols called, his voice echoing from PA-outlets through the ship. "Ready for shift, Captain Nichols," Jacquemont reported from the duplicate-control panel. Conn went to the after bulkhead, leaning his back against it. "Ready here, Captain," he said. Other voices took it up. Lights winked on the control panels. "Shifting over," Nichols said. "Your ship now, Captain Jacquemont." "Thank you, Mr. Nichols."