from the cafe singers.

It was a stronger wind than ever blew on the world, even during the
winter, when the people had to stay inside and wish that Earth tradition
might be broken and good weather be had the year around.

"We'd better get back to the ship," Elias said.

They stopped talking and looked at him, and he looked down at his hands,
embarrassed. "They'll be worried about us at home."

"No, they won't," Max said. Then he saw the thin, blue-veined hands
trembling and the quiver not quite controlled in the wrinkled neck.
"Though perhaps we should start back...."

Trina let out her breath in relief. To be back in the ship, she thought,
with the needle and its forgetfulness, away from the noise and the crowd
and the nervousness brought on by the rising wind.

It would be better, of course, when they had their place in the country.
There it would be warm and homelike and quiet, with the farm animals
near by, and the weather shut out, boarded out and forgotten, the way it
was in winter on the world.

"You're coming with us?" Captain Bernard was saying.

"Yes, we're coming." Half a dozen of the men stood up and began pulling
on their long, awkward coats.

"It'll be good to get back in space again," MacGregor said. "For a
while." He smiled. "But I'm too old for a spaceman's life now."

"And I'm too old even for this," Elias said apologetically. "If we'd
found this planet the other time...." He sighed and shook his head and
looked out the window at the shadows that were people, bent forward,
walking into the wind. He sighed again. "I don't know. I just don't
know."

Saari got up and pulled on her wrap too. Then she walked over to one of
the other women, spoke to her a minute, and came back carrying a
quilted, rough fabricked coat. "Here, Trina, you'd better put this on.
It'll be cold out."

"Are you going with us?"

"Sure. Why not? Dad's talked enough about space. I might as well see
what it's like for myself."

Trina shook her head. But before she could speak, someone opened the
door and the cold breeze came in, hitting her in the face.

"Come on," Saari said. "It'll be warm in the car."

Somehow she was outside, following the others. The wind whipped her
hair, stung her eyes, tore at her legs. The coat kept it from her body,
but she couldn't protect her face, nor shut out the low moaning wail of
it through the trees and the housetops.

She groped her way into the car. The door slammed shut, and t