st his chest. She turned, cradled herself in his
arms, smiled up at him, squirmed some more and had her head pillowed
on his lap. She smiled tremulously, misty-eyed. Her lips parted.

He bent and kissed her, knowing it was all wrong. This was not
goodbye, not the way he wanted it. Quickly, definitely, for once and
all. With a tear, perhaps, a lot of tears. But permanent goodbye. This
was all wrong. The whole idea was to be business-like, objective. It
had to be done that way, or no way at all. Briefly, he regretted
leaving the encampment.

This wasn't goodbye the way he wanted it. The way it had to be. This
was _auf weidersen_.

And then he forgot everything but Stephanie....

* * * * *

"I am Alaric Arkalion III," said the extremely young-looking man with
the old, wise eyes.

How incongruous, Temple thought. The eyes look almost middle-aged. The
rest of him--a boy.

"Something tells me we'll be seeing a lot of each other," Arkalion
went on. The voice was that of an older man, too, belying the youthful
complexion, the almost childish features, the soft fuzz of a beard.

"I'm Kit Temple," said Temple, extending his hand. "Arkalion, a
strange name. I know it from somewhere.... Say! Aren't you--don't you
have something to do with carpets or something?"

"Here and now, no. I am a number. A-92-6417. But my father is--perhaps
I had better say was--my father is Alaric Arkalion II. Yes, that is
right, the carpet king."

"I'll be darned," said Temple.

"Why?"

"Well," Temple laughed. "I never met a billionaire before."

"Here I am not a billionaire, nor will I ever be one again. A-92-6417,
a number. On his way to Mars with a bunch of other numbers."

"Mars? You sound sure of yourself."

"Reasonably. Ah, it is a pleasure to talk with a gentleman. I am
reasonably certain it will be Mars."

Temple nodded in agreement. "That's what the Sunday supplements say,
all right."

"And doubtless you have observed no one denies it."

"But what on Earth do we want on Mars?"

"That in itself is a contradiction," laughed Arkalion. "We'll find
out, though, Temple."

They had reached the head of the line, found themselves entering a
huge, double-decker jet-transport. They found two seats together,
followed the instructions printed at the head of the aisle by
strapping themselves in and not smoking. Talking all around them was
subdued.

"Contrariness has given way to fear," Arkalion observ