"Why not? What the devil's the matter...." Falken broke off sharply. Something cold and fierce and terrifying came into his face. "Just a minute, Avery," he said gently. "Does that mean you think you know a way?"
"I.... For God's sake, let me alone!"
"You do know a way," said Falken inexorably. "Why shouldn't I ask you, Paul Avery? Why shouldn't you try to save your people?"
Golden eyes met his, desperate, defiant, bewildered, and pitiful all at once.
"They're not my people," whispered Avery.
They were caught, then, in a strange silence. Soundless wheeling rainbows brushed the new earth, glimmered in the brassy pools. Far up on the black crystal of the vault the Sun-child pulsed and breathed. And there was stillness, like the morning of creation.
Eric Falken took one slow, taut step, and said, "Who are you?"
The answer whispered across the raw red earth.
"Miner Hilton, the son of Gantry."