"You know, once I get my feet down there, I'm going to see that they stay. I'm never going to take them off. Not even so much as a single mile. I'm going to get me a bushel basket, and I'm going to fill it with Earth, and when I go to bed, I'm going to have it right there beside me, so I can reach out with my hands, anytime in the night, and feel it." "For a long time, Ed, I was scared, like you were, that something would happen. But now we're so near, I don't know.... I was afraid that maybe things had changed; that there wouldn't be any people. That maybe--I guess I always see the dark side, don't I?" The Captain said, "Maybe there's some good in that. But this time I'm going to sound a little like Johnny. Things may have changed, Skippy. From what we've read about. We've got to expect that. But it can't be too different. We can adjust. Man can always adjust." He turned again to the window. "And there's always Earth herself. You can look through the 'scope and see her out there, just like she's been for a billion years. Home. That hasn't changed. The air of Home; the water of Home. That doesn't change." "I guess you're right, Ed," the Mate agreed. "That can't change." * * * * * He found her down below the motors on the last level. Their light was burning dimly. She had been crying. Johnny Nine stood watching her for a long time. Finally he said, "I'm sorry, Marte." She looked up. Her face was tear-cast, and her eyes were red. "It's.... It's...." Her voice caught in a sob. "Oh, Johnny, why? _Why_, Johnny?" Johnny Nine had no answer to that question. "Why did he have to do it--just when we were almost Home?" She began to cry again. He sat down beside her, drew her head over on his shoulder. "We've all got to die sometime. You, me ... Sam." "But not now, Johnny. Not _now_!" He let out his breath in a long sigh. "I know. I--I liked Sam. He was always good to me, always ready to stop work and explain things to me. But he was old, Marte, so awful old." "But not to see Home, when you're almost there.... He looked through the 'scope, but his eyes were bad and he couldn't see it. And he thought we were all fooling him.... But Johnny, he'd _had_ to believe, once he got his feet down on Earth, once the wind was all around him. Even if he was old. He'd _had to_ believe, then." "I know, Marte." There was silence for a moment. "You know what they say. 'When you die, you go to Earth'. Maybe Sam's already there. Ahead of us. Somehow." "He used to tell me--me--me--" She choked up; she let out her breath unevenly. "When I was little and went down to look at the gardens, he used to tell me how he--" "Don't, Marte. Try not to think of it." "All right, Johnny. I won't. I'll try not to think of it. But Johnny--" "Now, now, that's enough." For fully five minutes neither of them spoke. Then Marte asked, in a small voice, "Johnny?" "Yes." "I wonder how he got the bottle." "Please, Marte...."