Year five.

The first snow lay crisp around the landing field. It sparkled white, blue in its hollows, broken by shrubs which it dusted with diamond. Air rested cold and still. The folk at Terralina could not see Envoy as a spark in orbit through this dazzle, but they clustered at one edge of the pavement, and when another gleam appeared above them, they cheered.

The Tahirian spaceboat bearing the returned explorers descended smoothly. Cleland and Kilbirnie could stand in a compartment, shut off from the world, hearing merely a low thrum, feeling merely a faint shiver.

"Well," he ventured after silence had become unendurable. Then he could not go on.

He heard the sympathy: "I'm sorry, Tim. I know what you mean to ask, and I have to say no."

"Not even ... a good-bye time . . . just once, after all these days in the d-damned gimbal dorms, crawling along on jets?"

"I told you at the outset how it would be."

His shoulders slumped. "Yes, you did."

"Maybe I should have said it oftener."

"No, I was glad you didn't. I could pretend." Cleland raised his head. "Well, let me thank you for what you gave me."

"I wish I could go on giving it."

"But."

"Yes, but."

After a while, she said, looking straight at him though he kept dropping his glance and lifting it again: "I should have been stronger, Tim. I should have curbed myself that first time. Or if it had to happen, I should have stopped straightaway afterward. But I couldn't bear to hurt you. Now I must, and beg your forgiveness."

He achieved a smile of sorts. "I hope you weren't just being kind to me."

She smiled back. "I enjoyed it." Sober: "I even wondered if something more might grow between us. But the expedition was all we shared, really. You deserve better." She took his hands. They lay passive in hers. "Fare you always well."

"And you," he mumbled.

She kissed him lightly, stepped back before he could respond, and felt the slight thud as the boat set down. Her smile flashed full. "Now, my fere," she said, "let's go out and put a good face on things. You did conduct one glorious explore. I'm sure you'll do your next one likewise."

Slipping out into a passage cluttered with gear and people, she grabbed her personal bags. He stayed behind, in no hurry to debark.

A gangway extruded like a tongue from an open airlock to the ground. Kilbirnie bounded its length and over the paving. Nansen stood ahead of his crew. "Welcome home!" he called.

She dropped her load and dashed to him. "Oh, skipper, what you radioed to us inbound — might we go on from here? To more discovering?"

"We might." The sky was less blue than her eyes. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I'd love it, skipper. And so would you."

Hands linked and tightened. They stood where they were. The others held back, forgotten.

Nor did anyone immediately seek Dayan when she went down the gangway. Her gaze traveled over the group and came to rest on Zeyd and Mokoena, side by side. Very slowly, Mokoena nodded. Zeyd seemed half abashed. Dayan waved at everybody. Thereafter Sundaram, Yu, and Ruszek met her. She exchanged a hug with the engineer, handshakes with the men. Ruszek took her bags. She went over to Mokoena and Zeyd. A few words passed. Dayan threw an arm around either and held them for a minute.

Cleland and Brent descended together. They said the greetings and received the good wishes. When all were walking toward the settlement, Brent drew Cleland aside.

"Tim," he muttered, "we've got to talk, first chance we get at some privacy. This lunacy about the black hole —"

"I don't know anything except what was in the captain's message to us." A minim of life roused in Cleland. "It's like a scientific miracle."

"If it is a miracle," Brent said, "then it's the kind that could make me believe in Satan."

Piece by piece during the sojourn, the dwellers in Terralina had decorated their meeting hall as they had done their common room aboard Envoy.

Tonight the bright colors, mural panels of Earth scenes, and kinetic figures were obscured by festoons and spangles. Music rollicked from speakers. The robots had set a table with white napery, crystal, and the noblest menu in their programs. After a time of rest, recollection, and re-acquaintance, this was the reunion celebration.

It became a curious mingling of festivity and formality, moodiness not always quite concealed, mirth not always quite restrained. There were toasts, little speeches, and the songs that had gotten to be traditional on special occasions. Although complete reports lay in the database and individuals had talked with each other, viewshows followed. Zeyd presented the most attractive scenery and interesting life-forms encountered on Tahir; Nansen showed views from its sister planets and the engineering works upon them; Dayan discussed her astrophysical findings, with spectacular images of the pulsar, taken by robots that would continue to transmit for many decades; Cleland doggedly described the world he had studied.

(He did not dwell on the near disaster there, and made no mention of its aftermath. But, "Dios misericordioso," Nansen whispered to Kilbirnie, seated beside him, "we almost lost you," and, "I almost lost you," she whispered back.)

Things livened when the program was over, the robots had cleared away the table, and it was time to dance.

The four women duly circulated among the six men. Presently Dayan joined Ruszek. That number was the swirl, for separate couples. They undulated across the floor, one hand clasping the partner's, his other on her waist and hers on his shoulder. The music sang low and easy, composed for intimacy.

"Ah-h," she murmured, "I appreciate this, Lajos. You're nimble on your feet."

He beamed. "Koszonom szepen. Thank you very much." His glance flickered to Cleland and Brent, with whom she had gone the previous two rounds. They stood at the sideboard drinking and desultorily talking. Remarks would have been tactless. He did attempt modesty. "You're better, though. And, uh, I hear the captain is an expert."

She didn't deny that, but neither did she look toward Nansen and Kilbirnie where they dreamily circled. Her smile quirked rueful. "He's busy this evening. I expect he will be for some while to come."

Ruszek chuckled. "He has much lost time to make up. It took two and a half years away from her to break down his propriety."

An underlying darkness tinged her voice. "Let them be happy while they can."

He was not too surprised. They had seen considerable of each other since she came back. Mostly it had been in the company of two or three more, swapping accounts of experiences. But twice she had taken him off to inquire about his dealings with Tahirians and his impressions of them; and this had touched on the personal, however indirectly.

His hold on her strengthened. "You're not happy yourself, are you?"

"Nonsense." The red head tossed. "I'm fine. Magnificent immediate past, incomparable prospects."

"You don't mind about Mam and Selim?"

"Not if you don't."

"Well, nobody is anybody else's property."

She grinned. "Lajos, you're as subtle as a crashing asteroid."

His steps faltered. "Sajnalom — I'm sorry —"

She led him back into the rhythm. "It's all right. In answer, no, I'm pleased, and not surprised. They were falling in love before I left. I think it's become solid."

"They are . . . fine people. But you, Hanny, you are, nos, you have trouble in you."

"Why should I?" she demanded.

"Is it this business about the zero-zero drive? The danger to the universe? I doubt that is everything."

They trod another measure. She regarded him, bald head, sweeping mustache, blouse open on hairy breast, a slight male odor of sweat. "You're more perceptive than you let on."

"Is the risk to worry about?"

"I don't know. I've barely glanced at the math yet." Determination clanged. "At worst, the probability is very small. It can't — even morally, I'd say — keep us from going home. Or from first going to the black hole."

Again his steps failed. They stood halted, ignoring the music and the other couples. "Do you truly want to do that? An extra thousand years?"

"Something is there we thought was impossible." Ardor mounted in her. "A whole new vision —" She hauled at him. "Oh, Lajos, come on, let's dance!"

Only once as they swept onward did her look seek Nansen and his Kilbirnie.

The last good nights rang through the frost, across the snow. Stars in their myriads gave light to see by. Dayan walked with Ruszek, leaning on his arm. Much music had played, much wine had gone down, nobody was drunk but it was as if the sky still sang.

"The wonder of it," she said. "Something utterly strange, I don't know what, something we could never have foreseen if we'd stayed home  —  We haven't come this whole long way for nothing, Lajos!"

They stopped between two cottage walls. Shadows hid them, but overhead stood constellations unknown to Earth. Blindly impulsive, they embraced. It became a kiss, which went on while hands roved.

"Hanny," Ruszek said in her ear — a cold and delicate coil between cascading locks and sculptured cheekbones  —  "Hanny, I've wished, you're so beautiful —"

She laughed aloud under the stars. "It's been a long time for us both, hasn't it? Tonight we'll make free!"