The old man's mouth opened and shut but for a moment no words came. "Impossible," he finally said, very faintly.

Sammy felt himself smile. "It's strange to hear that word from you, sir."

More silence. The Man's head bowed. Then: "The jackpot. I missed it by just sixty years. And you, by hunting me down here...now you'll get it all." His arm was still hidden, but he had slumped forward in his chair, defeated by his inner vision of defeat.

"Sir, a few of us"—more than a few—"have searched for you. You made yourself very hard to find, and there are all the old reasons for keeping the search secret. But we never wished you harm. We wanted to find you to—"To make amends? To beg forgiveness? Sammy couldn't say the words, and they weren't quite true. After all, The Man had beenwrong . So speak to the present: "We would be honored if you would come with us, to the OnOff star."

"Never. I am not Qeng Ho."

Sammy always kept close track of his ships' status. And just now... Well, it was worth a try: "I didn't come to Triland aboard a singleton, sir. I have a fleet."

The other's chin came up a fraction. "A fleet?" The interest was an old reflex, not quite dead.

"They're in near moorage, but right now they should be visible from Lowcinder. Would you like to see?"

The old man only shrugged, but both his hands were in the open now, resting in his lap.

"Let me show you." There was a doorway hacked in the plastic just a few meters away. Sammy got up and moved slowly to push the wheeled chair. The old man made no objection.

Outside, it was cold, probably below freezing. Sunset colors hung above the rooftops ahead of him, but the only evidence of daytime warmth was the icy slush that splashed over his shoes. He pushed the chair along, heading across the parking lot toward a spot that would give them some view toward the west. The old man looked around vaguely.I wonder howlong it's been since he was outside.