So when Sim finally reached the cliffs of his childhood he saw alien peoples swarming there. There were no familiar faces. Then he realized how foolish it was to expect familiar faces. One of the older men glared down at him. "Who're you?" he shouted. "Are you from the enemy cliff? What's your name?" "I am Sim, the son of Sim!" "Sim!" An old woman shrieked from the cliff above him. She came hobbling down the stone pathway. "Sim, Sim, it _is_ you!" He looked at her, frankly bewildered. "But I don't know you," he murmured. "Sim, don't you recognize me? Oh, Sim, it's me! Dark!" "Dark!" He felt sick at his stomach. She fell into his arms. This old, trembling woman with the half-blind eyes, his sister. Another face appeared above. That of an old man. A cruel, bitter face. It looked down at Sim and snarled. "Drive him away!" cried the old man. "He comes from the cliff of the enemy. He's lived there! He's still young! Those who go there can never come back among us. Disloyal beast!" And a rock hurtled down. Sim leaped aside, pulling the old woman with him. A roar came from the people. They ran toward Sim, shaking their fists. "Kill him, kill him!" raved the old man, and Sim did not know who he was. "Stop!" Sim held out his hands. "I come from the ship!" "The ship?" The people slowed. Dark clung to him, looking up into his young face, puzzling over its smoothness. "Kill him, kill him, kill him!" croaked the old man, and picked up another rock. "I offer you ten days, twenty days, thirty more days of life!" The people stopped. Their mouths hung open. Their eyes were incredulous. "Thirty days?" It was repeated again and again. "How?" "Come back to the ship with me. Inside it, one can live forever!" The old man lifted high a rock, then, choking, fell forward in an apoplectic fit, and tumbled down the rocks to lie at Sim's feet. Sim bent to peer at the ancient one, at the bleary, dead eyes, the loose, sneering lips, the crumpled, quiet body. "Chion!" "Yes," said Dark behind him, in a croaking, strange voice. "Your enemy. Chion." * * * * * That night a thousand warriors started for the ship as if going to war. The water ran in the new channel. Five hundred of them were drowned or lost behind in the cold. The others, with Sim, got through to the ship. Lyte awaited them, and threw wide the metal door. The weeks passed. Generations lived and died in the cliffs, while the five hundred workers labored over the ship, learning its functions and its parts. On the last day they disbanded. Each ran to his station. Now there was a destiny of travel who still remained behind. Sim touched the control plates under his fingers.