that unknown globe. They could not watch their objective any longer.
The future depended entirely upon the skill of the three men in
control--and last of all upon Hobart's judgment and skill.

The captain brought them down, riding the flaming counter-blasts from
the ship's tail to set her on her fins in an expert point landing, so
that the _RS 10_ was a finger of light into the sky, amid wisps of
smoke from brush ignited by her landing.

There was another wait which seemed endless to the restless men
within, a wait until the air was analyzed, the countryside surveyed.
But when the go-ahead signal was given and the ramp swung out, those
first at the hatch still hesitated for an instant or so, though the
way before them was open.

Beyond the burnt ground about the ship was a rolling plain covered
with tall grass which rippled under the wind. And the freshness of
that wind cleansed their lungs of the taint of the ship.

Raf pulled off his helmet, held his head high in that breeze. It was
like bathing in air, washing away the smog of those long days of
imprisonment. He ran down the ramp, past the little group of those who
had preceded him, and fell on his knees in the grass, catching at it
with his hands, a little over-awed at the wonder of it all.

The wide sweep of sky above them was not entirely blue, he noted.
There was the faintest suggestion of green, and across it moved clouds
of silver. But, save for the grass, they might be in a dead and empty
world. Where were the cities? Or had those been born of imagination?