"Not a thing, rockhead. Only if you're going to explore, the way I am, you can't be lazy, the way you are." She twisted a branch into a leaf crown and walked backward before them, trying the crown on the boy's head at different angles. "Ah, wonderful! Charging asonis--whuff whuff--and now you look just like the kink that chewed up my diary to make a nest." "Which was your fault for leaving it on a shelf and not writing in it. Explorers have to keep diaries. Doc said so--didn't he, Paul?" "I'm strictly neutral, to avoid bouncing." "So anyway, Dunin, when you trip over a root and smack your fanny, I'm going to laugh." She did. He did.... It was an hour before they overtook Spearman, who glanced back without expression, without halting his powerful strides, his tanned body gleaming with sweat and effort. Dunin sobered; she caught Paul's eyes. She said, "May I carry you, Spearman? Then we can all reach the ship at the same time." Spearman gave no sign of hearing her. He drew up at the side of the trail, staring at the ground, arms folded. David's face was hidden again at Arek's breast; John seemed to be asleep. Dunin said, "Please? Why should we leave you behind?" Remote and desolate, Spearman watched the ground. Dunin moved on, reluctantly, no more laughter in her. "What _is_ he thinking?" Wright said, "At this moment he's probably thinking it's brutally unfair that we should go on ahead of him." "But I asked--" "You did. What's more he hasn't anything against you. All the same, that's about what he'll be thinking. Don't try too hard to understand it, Dunin--I'm not sure it's worth it. Let's think about the ship. Paul, is it possible, what he said about charlesite?" "I reckon so, Doc. The flame certainly did change to green. I think I remember, long ago, hearing some engineers discuss the possibility of stepping up charlesite enough so it could be used in braking a big ship for descent, instead of keeping the atomics on all the way down. It would char everything over a wide area, but at least it wouldn't make radioactive desert...." "I can't feel it," Wright mumbled. "Mirage...." It was no mirage. The ship _Jensen_ stood high above blackened ground half a mile away; even here at the edge of forest there was a lingering smell, anciently familiar. Paul felt himself grinning stupidly. "Plain carbon tet or something like it. Must have shot it out to kill any grass fires. No mirage." Towering silver-white above a hundred-foot tripod, it flaunted the letters of a great name, and David Spearman rubbed his eyes at it, leaning against Arek's knee, accepting the protective touch of her hand. Arek said, "What--Oh Paul, what will they be like?" Wright shook his head, plainly feeling it now--the thought, the memories, the pleasure, and something far from pleasure. Paul answered, "They will--look like us, Arek." Pakriaa pointed up. "There! That we remember. Oh, the beautiful--" "A boat out already?" Paul searched and found the silver flight.