A million miles out in space, they watched from the observation port. They could see the planetoid only as a much smaller, dark mass against the blue, beautiful sphere of Earth. "One minute, fifteen seconds," said Kendrick, in a dry, level voice. Martha sobbed, and hid her face against Wales' shoulder, and he held her close. "Thirty seconds." And all Wales could think of was the cities and their silent streets, the little houses carefully locked and shuttered, the quiet country roads and old trees and fields, with the red moon looming over them, coming down upon them, closer, closer-- "She's struck," said Kendrick. And then, "Look--look--" Wales saw. The blue sphere of Earth had suddenly changed, white steam laced with leaping flames enwrapped it, puffing out from it. Giant winds tore the steam and he glimpsed tortured continents buckling, cracking, mountains rising-- He held Martha close, and watched until he could watch no more, and turned away. Kendrick, with his telescope set up, was talking rapidly. "The continental damage isn't too bad. The seas are all steam now, but they'll condense again in time. Terrific volcanoes, but they'll not last too long. In time, it'll cool down--" In time, Wales thought. In their time? Maybe not until their children's time? He looked ahead, at the red spark of Mars, the world of refuge. It would be hard living on Mars, yes, for all the millions of men. But there were other worlds in space, and they had the knowledge and the ships. He thought they would go farther than Mars, much farther. He thought that they could not guess now, how far. But someday, they or their children would come back to old Earth again. Of that, he was very sure.