«I don't want to leave now.» Driscoll put his hands behind his head, lying quietly. «And it doesn't want us to leave.»
«If we go back to Earth and tell everyone what a lovely planet it is, what then, Captain? They'll come smashing in here and ruin it.»
«No,» said Forester, idly. «First, this planet wouldn't put up with a full-scale invasion. I don't know what it'd do, but it could probably think of some interesting things. Secondly, I like this planet too much; I respect it. We'll go back to Earth and lie about it. Say it's hostile. Which it would be to the average man, like Chatterton, jumping in here to hurt it. I guess we won't be lying after all.»
«Funny thing,» said Koestler. «I'm not afraid. Chatter-ton vanishes, is killed most horribly, perhaps, yet we lie here, no one runs, no one trembles. It's idiotic. Yet it's right. We trust it, and it trusts us.»
«Did you notice, after you drank just so much of the wine-water, you didn't want more? A world of moderation.»
They lay listening to something like the great heart of this earth beating slowly and warmly under their bodies. Forester thought, «I'm thirsty.» A drop of rain splashed on his lips. He laughed quietly. «I'm lonely,» he thought. Distantly, he heard soft high voices. He turned his eyes in upon a vision. There was a group of hills from which flowed a clear river, and in the shallows of that river, sending up spray, their faces shimmering, were the beautiful women. They played like children on the shore. And it came to Forester to know about them and their life. They were nomads, roaming the face of this world as was their desire. There were no highways or cities, there were only hills and plains and winds to carry them like white feathers where they wished. As Forester shaped the question, some invisible answerer whispered the answers. There were no men. These women, alone, produced their race. The men had vanished fifty thousand years ago. And where were these women now? A mile down from the green forest, a mile over on the wine-stream by the six white stones, and a third mile to the large river. There, in the shallows, were the women who would make fine wives, and raise beautiful children.
Forester opened his eyes. The other men were sitting up.
«I had a dream.»
They had all dreamed.
«A mile down from the green forest…»
«… a mile over on the wine-stream…»
«… by the six white stones…» said Koestler.
«… and a third mile to the large river,» said Driscoll, sitting there.
Nobody spoke again for a moment. They looked at the silver rocket standing there in the starlight.
«Do we walk or fly, Captain?»
Forester said nothing.
Driscoll said, «Captain, let's stay. Let's never go back to Earth. They'll never come and investigate to see what happened to us, they'll think we were destroyed here. What do you say?»
Forester's face was perspiring. His tongue moved again and again on his lips. His hands twitched over his knees. The crew sat waiting.
«It'd be nice,» said the captain.
«Sure.»
«But…» Forester sighed. «We've got our job to do. People invested in our ship. We owe it to them to go back.»
Forester got up. The men still sat on the ground, not listening to him.
«It's such a goddamn nice night,» said Koestler.
They stared at the soft hills and the trees and the river running off to other horizons.
«Let's get aboard ship,» said Forester, with difficulty.
«Captain…»
«Get aboard,» he said.
The rocket rose into the sky. Looking back, Forester saw every valley and every tiny lake.
«We should've stayed,» said Koestler. «Yes, I know.»
«It's not too late to turn back.» «I'm afraid it is.» Forester made an adjustment on the port telescope. «Look now.» Koestler looked.
The face of the world was changed. Tigers, dinosaurs, mammoths appeared. Volcanoes erupted, cyclones and hurricanes tore over the hills in a welter and fury of weather.
«Yes, she was a woman all right,» said Forester. «Waiting for visitors for millions of years, preparing herself, making herself beautiful. She put on her best face for us. When Chatterton treated her badly, she warned him a few times, and then, when he tried to ruin her beauty, she eliminated him. She wanted to be loved, like every woman, for herself, not for her wealth. So now, after she had offered us everything, we turn our backs. She's the woman scorned. She let us go, yes, but we can never come back. She'll be waiting for us with those…» He nodded to the tigers and the cyclones and the boiling seas. «Captain,» said Koestler. «Yes.»
«It's a little late to tell you this. But just before we took off, I was in charge of the air-lock. I let Driscoll slip away from the ship. He wanted to go. I couldn't refuse him. I'm responsible. He's back there now on that planet.»
They both turned to the viewing port.
After a long while, Forester said, «I'm glad. I'm glad one of us had enough sense to stay.»
«But he's dead by now!»
«No, that display down there is for us, perhaps a visual hallucination. Underneath all the tigers and lions and hurricanes, Driscoll is quite safe and alive, because he's her only audience now. Oh, she'll spoil him rotten. He'll lead a wonderful life, he will, while we're slugging it out up and down the system looking for but never finding a planet quite like this again. No, we won't try to go back and rescue Driscoll. I don't think „she“ would let us anyway. Full speed ahead, Koestler, make it full speed.»
The rocket leaped forward into greater acceleration.
And just before the planet dwindled away in brightness and mist, Forester imagined he could see Driscoll very clearly, walking away down from the green forest, whistling quietly, all of the fresh planet around him, a wine-creek flowing for him, baked fish lolling in the hot springs, fruit ripening in the midnight trees, and distant forests and lakes waiting for him to happen by. Driscoll walked away across the endless green lawns, near the six white stones, beyond the forest to the edge of the large bright river.