Sanctuary in the Sky / the Secret Martians

by John Brunner

  “Don’t hope for anything from me, Vykor. It isn’t me, you know. It’s the abstract of what I represent that means so much to you. And I don’t represent it any longer.”

  He let go. It was true. Now he could admit it, he felt a security which was strange and very pleasant.

  “And there it goes,” said Raige after a pause.

  Under the drive of its colossal engines, turning it slowly to red, to yellow, green, up the spectrum toward departure point, Waystation was once more becoming a ship. Blue . . . violet, unbearable brilliant violet. . .

  Then black, flecked here and there with star-gold. The ship was gone.