The Federation on Earth had made use of Isodel's theories. They were only a formal mathematical statement of what had always been known—destruction reaches a critical mass and destroys itself by turning against itself.
Where Hammen had refused to join one human mind, he joined countless ones in a huge drive against the Snake.
They became one with each other and they became one with the Snake, and the Snake turned on itself and destroyed itself and them, and they turned on themselves—and stopped.
They hung together for an unmeasurable time—and broke apart.
They were a super-entity like the Snake. But where the Snake had been mad, they were sane.
They drifted through the haze of twilight and broke apart, their hands gliding away into the shadows.
Hammen was gloriously happy. He had never been happy before and he was not at all sure he liked it.
"Jobs are so hard to find these days," Isodel said, her lovely face brightly sane. "What will you take up, darling?"
"There's still need for Companions—and Witches," he explained. "There seems more of a tendency for members of the cargo to drift away than ever. The Mindsnake at least gave them something to resist, a foothold of friction. Now there is nothing—nothing to do but drift, drift, drift. People in transmission will need Companions for a long time to come."
"I need a Companion," lovely Isodel said.