"You wouldn't," Forth muttered. "Funny. I liked your subsidiary personality."
Jay's mouth contracted in a mirthless grin.
"You would," he said, and swung quickly round.
"Come on. If I'm going to work on that serum project I'd better inspect the volunteers and line up the blood donors and look over old whatshisname's papers."
But beyond the window the snowy ridges of the mountain, inscrutable, caught and held his eye; a riddle and a puzzle—
"Ridiculous," he said, and went to his work.
Four months later, Jay Allison and Randall Forth stood together, watching the last of the disappearing planes, carrying the volunteers back toward Carthon and their mountains.
"I should have flown back to Carthon with them," Jay said moodily. Forth watched the tall man stare at the mountain; wondered what lay behind the contained gestures and the brooding.
He said, "You've done enough, Jay. You've worked like the devil. Thurmond—the Legate—sent down to say you'd get an official commendation and a promotion for your part. That's not even mentioning what you did in the trailmen's city." He put a hand on his colleague's shoulder, but Jay shook it off impatiently.