He sat down beside her, drew her head over on his shoulder.
"We've all got to die sometime. You, me ... Sam."
"But not now, Johnny. Not now!"
He let out his breath in a long sigh. "I know. I—I liked Sam. He was always good to me, always ready to stop work and explain things to me. But he was old, Marte, so awful old."
"But not to see Home, when you're almost there.... He looked through the 'scope, but his eyes were bad and he couldn't see it. And he thought we were all fooling him.... But Johnny, he'd had to believe, once he got his feet down on Earth, once the wind was all around him. Even if he was old. He'd had to believe, then."
"I know, Marte."
There was silence for a moment.
"You know what they say. 'When you die, you go to Earth'. Maybe Sam's already there. Ahead of us. Somehow."
"He used to tell me—me—me—" She choked up; she let out her breath unevenly. "When I was little and went down to look at the gardens, he used to tell me how he—"
"Don't, Marte. Try not to think of it."