like this, where it's always freezing and the air is thin and nothing
will grow outside the greenhouses. You don't need to tell me what
we've done, or what we've gotten out of it. We know. We've had a
wonderful life here."

"But you still want to go back?"

"Yes," I said. "We still want to go back. We're tired of living in the
past, with our friends dead and nothing to do except remember."

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he said slowly, "You realize,
don't you, that if you went back to Earth you'd have to stay there?
You couldn't return to Mars...."

"I realize that," I said. "That's what we want. We want to die at
home. On Earth."

* * * * *

For a long, long moment his eyes never left mine. Then, slowly, he sat
down at his desk and reached for a pen.

"All right, Mr. Farwell," he said. "I'll give you a visa."

I couldn't believe it. I stared at him, sure that I'd misunderstood.

"Sixty-five years...." He shook his head. "I only hope I'm doing the
right thing. I hope you won't regret this."

"We won't," I whispered.

Then I remembered that we were still short of money. That that was why
I'd come to the spaceport originally. I was almost afraid to mention
it, for fear I'd lose everything.

"Is there--is there some way we could be excused from the insurance?"
I said. "So we could go back this year? We're three hundred short."

He smiled. It was a very reassuring smile. "You don't need to worry
about the money," he said. "The colonial office can take care of that.
After all, we owe your generation a great debt, Mr. Farwell. A
passport tax and the fare to Earth are little enough to pay for a
planet."

I didn't quite understand him, but that didn't matter. The only thing
that mattered was that we were going home. Back to Earth. I could see
Martha's face when I told her. I could see her tears of happiness....

There were tears on my own cheeks, but I wasn't ashamed of them now.

"Mr. Farwell," Duane said. "You go back home. The shuttle ship will be
leaving in a few minutes."

"You mean that--" I started.

He nodded. "I'll get your tickets for you. On the first ship I can.
Just leave it to me."

"It's too much trouble," I protested.

"No it's not." He smiled. "Besides, I'd like to bring them out to you.
I'd like to see your farm, if I may."

Then I remembered what John Emery had said this morning about our
anniversary. It would be a wonderful celebration, no