The phantom light was beginning to wane. Now it was a fading streak, pointing to the heart of the constellation Carina, as Jan had known that it would. The home of the Overlords was somewhere out there, but it might circle any one of a thousand stars in that sector of space. There was no way of telling its distance from the Solar System.
It was all over. Though the ship had scarcely begun its Journey, there was nothing more that human eyes could see. But in Jan’s mind the memory of that shining path still burned, a beacon that would never fade as long as he possessed ambition and desire.
The party was over. Almost all the guests had climbed back into the sky and were now scattering to the four corners of the globe. There were, however, a few exceptions.
One was Norman Dodsworth, the poet, who had got unpleasantly drunk but had been sensible enough to pass out before any violent action proved necessary. He had been deposited, not very gently, on the lawn, where it was hoped that a hyena would give him a rude awakening. For all practical purposes he could, therefore, be regarded as absent.
The other remaining guests were George and Jean. This was not George’s idea at all; he wanted to go home. He disapproved of the friendship between Rupert and Jean, though not for the usual reason. George prided himself on being a practical, level-headed character, and regarded the interest which drew Jean and Rupert together as being not only childish in this age of science, but more than a little unhealthy. That anyone should still place the slightest credence in the supernormal seemed extraordinary to him, and finding Rashaverak here had shaken his faith in the Overlords.
It was now obvious that Rupert had been plotting some surprise, probably with Jean’s connivance. George resigned himself gloomily to whatever nonsense was coming.
“I tried all sorts of things before I settled on this,” said Rupert proudly.
“The big problem is to reduce friction so that you get complete freedom of movement. The old-fashioned polished table and tumbler set-up isn’t bad, but ft’s been used for centuries now and I was sure that modern science could do better. And here’s the result. Draw up your chairs — are you quite sure you don’t want to join, Rashy?”
The Overlord seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second. Then he shook his head. (Had they learned that habit on Earth? George wondered.)
“No, thank you,” he replied. “I would prefer to observe. Some other time, perhaps.”