"They don't know jealousy, because no one has ever obtained anything that another couldn't.
"They don't know hate, because no one has ever discovered a thing for which to fight that another thinks of sufficient value to fight for.
"Only—if they don't know hate or jealousy, Skipper—then, they don't know love!"
Quietly, Carruthers rose from his chair. For a moment, he hesitated. "What is it you're lonely for, Nicholas?" he asked, and then he left the fore-waist bridge.
There was a mushroom of sun-fire against the blackness of the cool night, and a thunder of power.
Slowly, ponderously, the White Whale backed down her column of flame, hesitated, flared again for a final time from her thick stem, and then settled to Earth.
Gantries rolled into position. And the sound of lock-hatches clanging open thrilled the length of the White Whale, and there were the muffled voices of men, and the voices became shouts with the joy loud in them.
The men trooped down from their great metal monster as fast as the lifts would carry them, and in small groups and in crowds they made their boisterous way across the landing plaza and toward home.
And when the shouts had died, a last man descended the smooth sides of the White Whale.