No, Ferris would not be going home. Ferris was dead.
He signalled for the psibeam to be turned toward him again.
"You'd have to know their positions out there to make contact, wouldn't you?" They did not answer. He worked to get the words formed, and there was a fleeting thought of a green, lush planet far away, its wide streets and rolling fields bathed in warm sunlight. "I can figure 'em," he said. "I know blast-off schedules, speeds. I know the works! Those things they had in the books. Then you guys can do the rest with—that thing. Right?"
They answered him, then.
"Thank you," they said. And that was all.
"Answer me!" the General barked again. "You, Janes! Lamson! Fowler—Harrison! For the last time, what happened out there?"
The four stood silently before the nervous figure of their commander, and it was Fowler who finally spoke.
"Plan III, sir, as we've already said. Condition Untenable—Return...."
"That is all you can say?"