Concor sat at the control console. He pressed buttons, and a view of space flashed on the screen. Electronic tapes fed swiftly into the calculators, and from them to the robot controls that actually operated the ship. Light faded in the cabin. In the dimness, Wilding's hand found Amyth's and drew strength from her nearness. He heard Elshar's voice, clear and steady. "Try not to be afraid. It is terrible, but does not last long." Something strange was happening on the view-screen. Space and the familiar stars shifted, changing relative positions, like images flowing around flaws in a mirror. There was a moment of kaleidoscopic horror as if all the senses slipped, then adjusted to new patterns. "This is good-bye." The sound of Elshar's voice drew his eyes to her. The girl's form wavered in his vision. She was changing. For a fragment of perception, he glimpsed something that suggested the old priest of the Pit Men. Then, something as delicate, fearful and unhumanly wise as a Martian pzintar idol. But as his mind grasped at the reality, she faded and vanished like drifting smoke. Long afterward, it seemed that the ship descended through dense, luminous vapor. Through rifts below could be seen a patchwork of brown and green, misted with blue. It was like an unrolling map in three dimensions. Richly verdant continents, studded with tumbled mountains. A broad ocean crimsoned by the setting of a double sun. Alien stars winked on one by one in the thickening twilight, and unknown constellations made fiery symbols against the dark vaults of another space. Wilding stared down at the planet which was their new home. Every man has his obstacle course, never to be completed. This was his next obstacle, and overcoming it was the joy of living. He was glad that it seemed a big one. "Ready for landing," he said. He was smiling....