ble stood an ivory figurine, a quarter-keg of beer, a thorny
cross, and a heart. It wasn't a physiological specimen; rather it was
the archetype of the most sentimental of symbols, the balanced,
cushiony, brilliant red valentine heart. Through it was a golden arrow,
and on it lay cut flowers: lilies, white roses, and forget-me-nots. The
heart pulsed strongly; and though it pumped no blood, at least it showed
that it was alive, which made it, perhaps, a better thing than it looked
at first glance.

Now it was very quiet in the ship, and very dark.

VII

_... We are about to land. The planet is green and blue below
us, and the long trip is over.... It looks as if it might be a
pleasant place to live...._

_A fragment of Old Testament verse has been running through my
mind--from Ecclesiastes, I think. I don't remember it verbatim,
but it's something like this:_

_To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose
under heaven: A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to
mourn, and a time to dance; A time to get, and a time to lose; a
time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to be born, and a
time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which
is planted._

_For me, anyway, I feel that the time has come. Perhaps it is
not to die but something else, less final or more terrible._

_In any case, you will remember, I know, what we decided long
ago--that a man owes one of two things to his planet, to his
race: posterity, or himself. I could not contribute the
first--it is only proper that I should offer the second and not
shrink if it is accepted...._
--From a letter by Peter Hoskins to his wife.

In the quiet and the dark, Hoskins moved.

"Checkmate," he said.

He rose from his chair and crossed the cabin. Ignoring what was on the
table, he opened a drawer under the parts cabinet and took out a steel
rule. From a book rack he lifted down a heavy manual. He sat on the end
of the couch with the manual on his knees and leafed through it,
smoothing it open at a page of physical measurements. He glanced at the
floor, across it to the black curtain, back to the one exposed bulkhead.
He grunted, put the book down, and carried his tape to the steel wall.
He anchored one end of it there by flipping the paramagnetic control on
the tape case, and pulled the tape across the room. At the