Wright chattered: "Have we anything, anything white? No—you and I out in the open, Paul—rest of you keep back. They need to recognize what we are—" He was shaking, and Paul embraced his shoulders to steady him as they moved into the open ground. Wright giggled hysterically. "Damn white flag myself—my whiskers—"
The boat swooped, swelling from a dot to keen familiar lines; it circled above them twice and came to earth in a perfect landing a hundred feet away. A blank pallor in the pilot's window would be a human face; there would be a human brain shocked into new wonder. It was still necessary for Paul to help his teacher through the grass, for Wright was swaying and stumbling. Paul reminded him: "They'll be sealed up, afraid of the air."
"Ah, yes. I say they needn't be—we have good air on Lucifer...."
Paul was aware of his own struggle for sanity, for clarity in the beginning of this impossible joy which was not pure joy. He heard himself shout at the top of his strong lungs: "'Ahoy the Jensen!' No, they won't hear it. Yes—they did, they did."
The door slid open for a meeting of two worlds. A square little bald man, a tall gray-haired woman who fussed at her ears, troubled by the change in atmospheric pressure. Faded overalls, the human look, incredulous stares changing to belief. The bald man gulped and stumbled; he grinned and held out his hand. "Dr. Christopher Wright, I presume?"
Wright could neither speak nor let go the hand. The woman said, "You must be—well, who could forget the photographs?—you're Paul Mason."
"Yes, We never—for years we haven't even thought—" "Mark Slade," said the bald man, "Captain Slade. This is Dr. Nora Stern ... Sir, I—you are well? You look well—"
"We are well," said Wright.
"I'm afraid to ask—the others? Dr. Oliphant? Captain Jensen? The—the little girls? And there was a young engineer—Edmund Spearman...."
Paul managed to say, "Both little girls are mothers. Dr. Oliphant and Captain Jensen died—Jensen on the ship, in the last acceleration. Spearman is—will be here before long, I think. You may find him somewhat changed—" Wright said, "We must let Ed speak for himself, Paul." In spite of the shock, the newness, Dr. Stern was sensitive to nuances. She said too loudly, "Beautiful country." She pressed both hands to her ears and took them away and spoke in a normal voice: "There...! Oh, what strange steep hills...!"