Docchi chuckled grimly. "Very shrewd. All right, they'll be careful. But is it worth it to us?"
"It is to me."
"Then it is to me," said Docchi. "I suggest we start getting ready."
Anti scrutinized him carefully. "Maybe we ought to fix you up."
"With fake arms and a cosmetikit? No. They'll have to take us as we are, unpretty, even repulsive."
"That's a better idea. I hadn't thought of the sympathy angle."
"Not sympathy—reality. It means too much to us. I don't want them to approve of us as handsome unfortunates and then have them change their minds when they discover what we're really like."
Sitting in silence, Docchi watched her go. She at least would benefit. Dr. Cameron apparently hadn't noticed that the exposure to extreme cold had done more to inhibit her unceasing growth than the acid bath. She probably would never get back to her former size but some day, if the cold treatment were properly investigated, she might be able to stand at normal gravity. For her there was hope. The rest of them had to keep on pretending that there was.
He examined the telecom. They were getting closer. No longer a point of light, Earth was a perceptible disc. He could see the outline of oceans, the shapes of land and the shadows of mountains, the flat ripple where prairies and plains were; he could imagine people. This was home—once.
Jordan came in. "The radio tape is rigged up. I haven't had to use it yet. But we have a friend trailing along behind us, an official friend."