"No. No. No come. Danger."
Scott turned toward the window, started up into the sky at the crimson eye of Mars.
What was the use of keeping hope alive? Hope that Hugh might have reached Mars, that someday the Martian code would bring some word of him.
Hugh had died ... like all the rest of them. Like those whose names were graven in the bronze there on the wall. The maw of space had swallowed him. He had flown into the face of silence and the silence was unbroken.
The door of the office creaked open, letting in a gust of chilly air. Jimmy Baldwin shut the door behind him and looked at them vacantly.
"Nice night to go to Mars," he said.
"You shouldn't be up here, Jimmy," said Alexander gently. "You should be down at the base, tending to your flowers."
"There're lots of flowers on Mars," said Jimmy. "Maybe someday I'll go to Mars and see."
"Wait until somebody else goes first," said Palmer bitterly.
Jimmy turned about, hesitantly, like a man who had a purpose but had forgotten what it was. He moved slowly toward the door and opened it.