He left the tiny pilot cabin. They would be waiting for him, forward. He wanted to run along the long companionway. He forced himself to walk. His heart was hammering with a mounting tempo. * * * * * They were all assembled in the play-area, the only large open space in the whole Ship. Johnny Nine came out onto the platform above it. His hands gripped the guard rail tightly. He looked down at the passengers below him, saw their white upturned faces, strained, tense. Saw Marte, holding her breath. "You felt the jets," he said, and his voice carried clear. "That means we're in an orbit around the Sun. Our own Sun. Just like a planet." There were no cheers. His announcement was greeted only by the low hum of voices, breaking like wind in pines, a sigh of relief. Then there was a stunned silence, when, for a moment, no one knew quite what to do with himself. After that, they began to mill around, each going to his neighbor and repeating the news again. "Well, we're Home." "Yes, we're Home." * * * * * The Ship drifted in its orbit, now, like a planet, like a very small planet, the balanced terrarium. "Listen," the Mate said. "I've got him!" He took off the headset and switched open the speaker. "Interstellar Flight One...." The voice sounded strong and clear and near. The Mate spoke into the microphone. And then they waited, their eyes on the huge sweep hand of the clock. One second, two, three-- Four-- Five.... "Flight One. Read you fine. Expect to make approach within an hour. Has yur Ship a carrier magnet plate for coupling?" The Captain frowned. "Tell him no." "Hello, pilot ship. No magnet plate, repeat, no magnet plate." "... All right, Flight One. Has yur Ship serviceable suits?" The Captain said, "Better check them, Johnny." Johnny Nine left at a run to test the space suits. It took him almost half an hour. When he came back, he was breathless. "They tested, Captain!" The Mate threw the sending switch. "Pilot ship. Have suits. Repeat. Have suits." "Look!" Johnny Nine cried. He was pointing to the Observation window. "See it, that little light. It's their ship!" The three men looked. They could see a moving finger of fire, like a tiny comet, except that its tail thrust sunward. "Have located yur Ship, Flight One. We are making ready for the approach." The radio was silent a moment. Then: "We have a request." "Yes?" the Mate said into the microphone. "... We have full transmission equipment on our ship for a world program. Since you have no magnet plates to couple us, will you send one of yur passengers over for formal welcome?" "Tell them yes." "Yes," the Mate echoed. The wait was infinitesimal now.