Garcia said wistfully, "And we could see Monterey and the boats and listen to the gulls. And maybe that old flower peddler Van Gundy knew is still in Frisco. I bet Van Gundy'd like us to find out." He began to laugh almost hysterically.
"I'm going to stay here," declared Fox, "but we never thought of that week, did we? We kept thinking of being in space for twelve unbroken years. It wouldn't be that way at all."
Captain Torkel asked, "Wouldn't you like to see Broadway again, Fox? I'll bet they'll have it all lit up, all shining and proud and full of life. Wouldn't you, Fox?"
Fox gulped. Even in the gathering darkness, the captain saw tears in his eyes. "I—yes, Captain. I guess I would."
"And your wife, Fox?"
Fox wiped his eyes. "I don't know." Then he jerked backward. "I just thought of something. My wife'll be here in twelve years. She'll make the journey all right, make it if she has to take a rocket by herself and hold it together with hairpins. She'll locate me, too. When she finds out what I've—"
Fox suddenly stood very straight and heroic. "Captain, I'm going back to Earth—right now."
"And I," said Lieutenant Washington deeply.
"I want to go," said Garcia, his voice cracking, "but I'm a murderer. You don't want a murderer with you, do you?"
Captain Torkel glanced nervously toward the forest. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw faint reflections of lights, and voices.