"It has to be, Doc," Spearman said, and rubbed his bluish cheeks, looking older than his thirty-two years. Already he showed frontal baldness, deeply bracketed mouth corners. On Spearman's big shoulders was the burden of the ship. Watching him now, Paul Mason was troubled by a familiar thought: _Captain Jensen should not have died_.... "It has to be. The instruments show oxygen in Earth proportion, or somewhat richer, plus nitrogen and carbon dioxide. The camera gives us tree shadows in these latest photographs with the stronger lens. The air may make us oxygen-happy--if we go down.... Well, Dorothy--two continents, two oceans, both smaller than the Atlantic, connected narrowly at north and south polar regions. Dozens of lakes bigger than the Caspian. The proportion of land to water surface works out nearly the same as on Earth. No mountains to match the Himalayas, but some pretty high ranges. Unlimited forest, prairie, desert." He closed bloodshot eyes, pressing the lids. Paul Mason thought: _I should never try to paint Ed. The portrait would always come out as Hercules Frustrated, and he wouldn't care for it...._ Spearman said, "Even most of the tallest mountains look smooth--old. If there were glaciers it was a long time ago." "Geologically a quiet phase," Sears Oliphant remarked. "As Earth looked in the Jurassic and may look again." Born fifty years ago in Tel Aviv, brought up in London, Rio, and New York because his parents were medical trouble shooters for the Federation, and possessed of a doctorate in biology (more exactly, taxonomy) from Johns Hopkins, Sears Oliphant claimed that his original Polish name could not have been spelled with the aid of two dictionaries and a crowbar. His fat face blinked at Dorothy with little kind eyes. "I forget, sugar--you weren't around in the Jurassic, were you?" "Maybe." Her slow smile was for Paul. "As a very early mammal." Wright said, "No artifacts.... At first it looked like Venus." His crinkled asymmetrical face probed at them with a wistful half smile like a child's. "May we call this planet Lucifer, son of the morning? And if we land and found a city (or am I being ridiculous?)--let it be Jensen City, in honor of a more-than-solar myth." Shading closed lids, Spearman said with harshness, "Myth?" "Why, Ed, yes--like all remembered heroes who continue in the love of others, a love that magnifies. How else would you have it?" "But"--Ann Bryan was high-voiced, troubled--"Lucifer----" "My dear, Lucifer was an angel. Devils and angels have a way of turning out to be the same organism. I noticed that first when I was a damned interne. I noticed it again when I switched to anthropology. I even noticed it on a space ship with the five persons I love best.... No artifacts, huh?" Dorothy said, "You haven't seen these latest pictures, Doc."