"Yes," said J. Foster. "We're ready now. Goodbye, Greg," he said. "And—er—thanks, old boy!"
Greg said levelly, "That's all right. Goodbye." He said, less levelly, "Goodbye, Miss Andrews."
But Crystal and Breadon were already turning toward the portal, toward the cruiser that would carry them back to an easier, gentler world. So at the end, there were no last farewells. Just a single word, and silence.
Yet somehow, strangely, Greg Malcolm did not mind too much. For in losing one thing, he had found much more. He was bulwarked with greater, truer friends than most men ever know ... he stood in a cave that was his home ... on a new world that was yet his shining, unblemished empire.
And there was the touch of a warm hand on his own.