It was over, Libby told herself when she felt her feet on solid ground again. But she had one more memory to store away. “I loved it. I’m not going to ask you how it works. I doubt I’d understand anyway, and it might spoil the fun.” With her hand still caught in his, she looked at the ship. Her feelings about it were as confused as the rest of her emotions. It had brought him to her, and it would take him away. “I’ll let you get to work.”

Cal was dealing with the same tug-of-war himself. “I’ll be back around nightfall.”

“All right.” She took her hand from his, then stuck it restlessly in her pocket. “You won’t have any trouble finding your way?”

“I’m a good navigator.”

“Of course.” The birds they had frightened away with their ride were beginning to sing again. Time was slipping by. “Well, I’d better go.”

He knew she was stalling, but then, so was he. It was stupid, Cal told himself. He would be with her again in a matter of hours. “You could come in with me, but I don’t think I’d get a lot done.”

It was tempting. She could go inside, distract him, keep him away from the computer and the answers for a few more hours. But it wouldn’t be right. Libby looked up at him again as all the love and the longing welled up inside her.

“I haven’t gotten any work done the last couple of days, either.”

“All right.” Leaning over, he kissed her. “See you tonight.”

He stood by the open hatch as she started up the slope. But when she reached the top of the ridge she didn’t look back.

***

Libby spent most of the day drafting an account of the series of events that had occurred over the last week. She used Cal’s words, his theory, to explain how he had come to be with her, coloring them with her own impressions. Then she listed, in the orderly fashion that was second nature to her, everything that had happened, from the time she had seen the flash in the sky until she had left Cal beside the ship.

That was the simple part, setting down the facts. Her memory was faultless. She knew that would be both a blessing and a curse when she was alone again. But for now she pulled together her objectivity and gave the story as much skill and dedication as she had her dissertation.

Once done, she read the entire story over twice, refining or enlarging where she saw fit. She was trained to report, she mused as she studied the computer screen. When Cal presented his experiences to the scientists of his time, she wanted him to have the benefit of whatever skill she could give him.