That seemed to do it. They looked at me sadly, and the girl agreed…the other two matched her agreement in a moment.

“And, and—I couldn’t leave her here alone,” I said again.

“Goodbye, Tom Van Home,” she said, and she pressed my hand between her mittened ones. It was a kiss on the cheek, but her helmet prevented it physically, so she clasped my hand.

Then they started up the ramp.

“What will you do for air, with the Fluhs gone?” one of the men asked, stopping halfway up.

“I’ll be all right, I promise you. I’ll be here when you return.” They looked at me with doubt, but I smiled, and patted my sac, and they looked uncomfortable, and started up the ramp again.

“We’ll be back. With others.” The girl looked down at me. I waved, and they went inside. Then I loped back to the hutch, and watched them as they shattered the night with their fire and fury. When they were gone, I went outside, and stared up at the dim, so-faraway points of the dead stars.

Where she circled, up there, somewhere.

And I knew I would have something for my noon meal, and all the meals thereafter. She had told me; I suppose I knew it all along, but it hadn’t registered, so she had told me: the Fluhs were not dead. They had merely gone down to replenish their own oxygen supply from the planet itself, from the caves and porous openings where the rock trapped the air. They would be back again, long before I needed them.

The Fluhs would return.

And someday I would find her again, and it would be an unbroken time.

This world I had named, I had not properly named. Not Hell.

Not Hell at all.

Hadj

It had taken almost a year to elect Herber. A year of wild speculation, and a growing sense of the Universe’s existence. The year after the Masters of the Universe had flashed through Earth’s atmosphere and broadcast their message.

From nowhere they had come down in their glowing golden spaceship—forty miles long—and without resistance shown every man, woman, and child on Earth that they did, indeed, rule the Universe.

They had merely said: “Send us a representative from Earth.” They had then given detailed instructions for constructing what they called an “inverspace” ship, and directions for getting to their home world, somewhere across the light-galaxies.

So the ship had been constructed. But who was to go? The Earthmen who pondered this question knew the awesome responsibility of that emissary. They had to be careful whom they picked. So they had reasoned it was too big a problem to lay in the hands of mere humans, and set the machines on it. They had set the Mark XXX. the UniCompVac, the Brognagov Master Computer and hundreds of the little brains to the task.

After sixteen billion punched cards had gone through three times, the last card fell into the hopper, and Wilson Herber had been elected. He was the most fit to travel across the hundred galaxies to the home world of the Masters of the Universe, and offer his credentials to them.

They came to Wilson Herber in his mountain retreat, and were initially greeted by threats of disembowelment if they didn’t get the bell away and leave him in his retirement!

But judicious reasoning soon brought the ex-statesman around. Herber was one of the wealthiest men in the world. The cartel he had set up during the first fifty-six years of his life was still intact, run entirely now by his lieutenants. It spanned every utility and service, every raw material and necessity a growing Earth would need. It had made Wilson Herber an incalculably wealthy man. It had led him into the World Federation Hall, where he had served as Representative for ten years, till he had become Co-Ordinator of the Federation.

Then, five years before the golden Masters had come, he had completely retired, completely secluded himself. Only a matter of such import could bring the crusty, hardheaded old pirate out of his sanctuary—and throw him into the stars.

“I’ll take the credentials,” he advised the men who had come to him. He sat sunk deep in an easy chair, a shrunken gnome of a man with thinned grey hair, piercing blue eyes, and a chin sharp as a diamond facet. “You must establish us on a sound footing with their emissaries, and let them know we walk hand-in-hand with them, as brothers,” one of the men had told Herber.

“Till we can get what we might need from them, and then assume their position ourselves, young man’}” Herber had struck directly—and embarrassingly—to the heart of the question.

The young man had hummed and hawed, and finally smiled down grimly at the old ex-statesman. “You always know best, Sir.”

And Wilson Herber had smiled. Grimly.

The planet rose out of Inverspace. It was incredible, but they had somehow devised a way to insert their world through the fabric of space itself, and let it impinge into not-space.

Herber, cushioned in a special travel-chair, sat beside Captain Arnand Singh, watching the half-circle that was their planet-in-Inverspace wheeling beneath the ship.

“Impressive, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”

The Moslem nodded silently. He was a huge man, giving the impression of compactness and efficiency. “This is almost like a hadj, Mr. Herber,” he noted.

Wilson Herber drew his eyes away from the ship-circling viewslash and stared at the brown-skinned officer. “Eh? Hadj? What’s that?”

“What my people once called a pilgrimage to Mecca. Here are we, Earthmen, journeying to this other Mecca…”

Herber cut him off. “Listen, boy. Just remember this: we’re as good as them any day, and they know it.

Otherwise they wouldn’t have extended us any invitation. We’re here to establish diplomatic relations, as with any foreign power. So get this Hadj business out of you.”

The Moslem did not answer, but a faint smile quirked his lips at the bravado of the man. The first Earthmen to visit the Masters’ home-world, and he was treating it as though it were a trip to a foreign embassy in New New York. He liked the old man, though he had a healthy dislike for the inherent policies he stood for.

All that was cut off in his mind as the control board bleeped for slip-out. “Better fasten those pads around you, sir,” he advised, helping lay the protective coverings about the old man’s body, “we’re just about ready to translate.”

Herber’s wonderously-outfitted diplomatic ship settled down through the shifting colors of Inverspace, and abruptly translated out.

In normal space, the planet was even more imposing.

Forty-mile-high buildings of delicate pastel tracery reached for the sky. Huge ships plied back and forth in a matter of minutes, between the three large continents.

There were unrecognizable constructions everywhere: evidence of a highly advanced science, a complicated culture. There was evidence everywhere of the superior intellect of these people. Herber sat beside the Captain and smiled.

“We can learn a great deal from these people, Singh,” he said quietly, almost reverently. His pinched, wrinkled features settled into an expression of momentary rest. This was an ultimate end. They had found their brothers in the stars.