Two weeks later, very late at "night", Perat lay stretched gloomily on his sleeping couch. On the other side of the room Evelyn was curled luxuriously on her own damasked lounge, her head propped high. She was scanning some of the miniature stereop reels that Perat had brought from his far-distant home planet.
"Those green trees and hedges ... so far away," she mused. "Do you ever think about seeing them again?"
"Of late, I've been thinking about them quite a bit."
What did he mean by that?
"I understood it would be months before the field crews cut us loose from the Terran ship," she said.
"Indeed?"
"Well? Won't it?"
Perat turned his moody face toward her. "No, it won't. The field crews have been moving at breakneck speed, on account of some unfounded rumor or other that the Terran ship is going to explode. On orders from our High Command, we pull out of here by the end of the working day tomorrow. Within twenty metrons from now, our ship parts company with the enemy globe."
The scar on her forehead was throbbing violently. There was no time now to send the false orders to the field crew she had selected. She must think a bit.
"It seems then, this is our last night together."