Mahmud smiled for the first time. "Oh, presently I will return among my people who fled in the face of all this terror from the sky. But it will not be the same." "It will be the same," said Laniq. "They are your people." "I say it will not be the same, but thank you, Miss. I will go among my people with my great sadness and remember yours forever." "If I thought you would be happy, I would take you with me." "Miss--" Mahmud looked at her hopefully. "No, Mahmud. You won't understand this, not yet. But they are your people, your home and your world. You could not pick up the threads of a new life and a new way of life without sorrow. Your people did what anyone else would have done, including _my_ people. They had their own homes to protect; they could not throw their lives away vainly in my people's defense." Mahmud smiled again, then turned to go. "I was hoping you would say that, Miss Hadrien." He trotted off with head high and shoulders squared. "He'll be all right, I think," Laniq said. "We'd better get to Nevada, Tedor." Together they ran for the time-conveyor. It hurt her not to, but Laniq never looked back at the devastated community. * * * * * "Seventeen, red," fat Dorlup proclaimed to the croupier in a Reno gambling joint. The wheel spun, the ball clicked, rattled, jumped with it. "Seventeen, red," declared the croupier in an awed voice as he raked a tall stack of chips toward the one Dorlup had placed in the red seventeen. Dorlup gathered the stack in with his pudgy arms and deposited it carelessly in the growing mountain of chips nearby. "You're wonderful," the honey-blond solidio actress told him, squeezing his arm to add emphasis. There was no shaking Beti, not since that day, months ago, when she had steered Dorlup into the Automat in New York. Since then he had been across the country three times, and she with him. He had gained a lot of source material for his solidio, and it amused him after a few days when he realized Beti was spying on him for someone. He didn't care, since he had nothing in particular to hide. And, anyway, there were certain joys of which Beti was truly the mistress, despite the vacuum which seemed to exist inside her skull. "You _are_ wonderful," Beti said again. Dorlup patted her hand without real affection. "Everyone in here thinks I have a system. _The_ system to beat the game, I might add. There is only one system. I know that system. Roulette wouldn't have a chance where we come from." "It all rides on eight, black," Dorlup told the croupier. "All?" The man's polish had cracked. "All." "Eight black," the croupier intoned a moment later. The crowd ooh'ed and aah'ed. "Well," said Dorlup, and gathered in the chips again. "Mr. Dorlup?" someone at his shoulder asked. "Yes, I am Dorlup. What do you want?" "Come with me." "What for?"