I t was an unusual applause. Everyone present in the big hall stood up and clapped together, but there was no hint of even a faint smile on any of the faces. The big twin monitors fixed on the wall, one above the other, were not showing any movement any more. The green flickering lines stood flat, lifeless. 'Cassini' was gone. The big clock on the wall kept ticking, announcing the passage of time as usual, indifferent to the flow of human emotions along its timeline. A tall lean man, in his fifties, stood up. Earl Maize, the programme manager of Jet Propulsion Laboratory, California, looked around, before speaking. There were almost a hundred people in that big room. Everyone wore one single colour- the purple, with pictures of Cassini on the dresses. Maize felt a prick of sharp pain in his heart. He was not sure if he could speak, as he felt a lump inside his throat growing from nowhere. After all, he was involved in all these for a long time, since 1992, dreaming the bi...