"But it's a myth!" Andrews exploded. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came.

"How much?" the old woman said. "How much?"

"I can't do it!" Andrews shouted. "There isn't -"

"We have a kilo positives," the robant said.

Andrews became suddenly quiet. "A thousand positives." He blanched in amazement. His jaws clamped shut, the color draining from his face.

"How much?" the old woman repeated. "How much?"

"Will that be sufficient?" the robant asked.

For a moment Andrews swallowed silently. Abruptly he found his voice. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

"Captain!" Norton protested. "Have you gone nuts? You know there's no such place as Earth! How the hell can we -"

"Sure, we'll take her." Andrews buttoned his tunic slowly, hands shaking. "We'll take her anywhere she wants to go. Tell her that. For a thousand positives we'll be glad to take her to Earth. Okay?"

"Of course," the robant said. "She has saved many decades for this. She will give you the kilo positives at once. She has them with her."

"Look," Norton said. "You can get twenty years for this. They'll take your articles and your card and they'll -"

"Shut up." Andrews spun the dial of the intersystem vid-sender. Under them the jets throbbed and roared. The lumbering transport had reached deep space. "I want the main information library at Centaurus II," he said into the speaker.

"Even for a thousand positives you can't do it. Nobody can do it. They tried to find Earth for generations. Directorate ships tracked down every moth-eaten planet in the whole -"

The vidsender clicked. "Centaurus II."

"Information library."

Norton caught Andrews' arm. "Please, Captain. Even for two kilo positives -"

"I want the following information," Andrews said into the vidspeaker. "All facts that are known concerning the planet Earth. Legendary birthplace of the human race."

"No facts are known," the detached voice of the library monitor came. "The subject is classified as metaparticular."

"What unverified but widely circulated reports have survived?"

"Most legends concerning Earth were lost during the Centauran-Rigan conflict of 4-B33a. What survived is fragmentary. Earth is variously described as a large ringed planet with three moons, as a small, dense planet with a single moon, as the first planet of a ten-planet system located around a dwarf white -"

"What's the most prevalent legend?"

"The Morrison Report of 5-C2 1r analyzed the total ethnic and subliminal accounts of the legendary Earth. The final summation noted that Earth is generally considered to be a small third planet of a nine-planet system, with a single moon. Other than that, no agreement of legends could be constructed."

"I see. A third planet of a nine-planet system. With a single moon." Andrews broke the circuit and the screen faded.

"So?" Norton said.

Andrews got quickly to his feet. "She probably knows every legend about it." He pointed down – at the passenger quarters below. "I want to get the accounts straight."

"Why? What are you going to do?"

Andrews flipped open the master star chart. He ran his fingers down the index and released the scanner. In a moment it turned up a card.

He grabbed the chart and fed it into the robant pilot. "The Emphor System," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Emphor? We're going there?"

"According to the chart, there are ninety systems that show a third planet of nine with a single moon. Of the ninety, Emphor is the closest. We're heading there now."

"I don't get it," Norton protested. "Emphor is a routine trading system. Emphor III isn't even a Class D check point."

Captain Andrews grinned tightly, "Emphor III has a single moon, and it's the third of nine planets. That's all we want.

"Does anybody know any more about Earth?" He glanced downwards. "Does she know any more about Earth?"

"I see," Norton said slowly. "I'm beginning to get the picture."

Emphor III turned silently below them. A dull red globe, suspended among sickly clouds, its baked and corroded surface lapped by the congealed remains of ancient seas. Cracked, eroded cliffs jutted starkly up. The flat plains had been dug and stripped bare. Great gouged pits pocked the surface, endless gaping sores.

Norton's face twisted in revulsion. "Look at it. Is anything alive down there?"

Captain Andrews frowned. "I didn't realize it was so gutted." He crossed abruptly to the robant pilot. "There's supposed to be an auto-grapple some place down there. I'll try to pick it up."

"A grapple? You mean that waste is inhabited?"

"A few Emphorites. Degenerate trading colony of some sort." Andrews consulted the card. "Commercial ships come here occasionally. Contact with this region has been vague since the Centauran-Rigan War."

The passage rang with a sudden sound. The gleaming robant and Mrs Gordon emerged through the doorway into the control room. The old woman's face was alive with excitement. "Captain! Is that – is that Earth down there?"

Andrews nodded. "Yes."

The robant led Mrs Gordon over to the big viewscreen. The old woman's face twitched, ripples of emotion stirring her withered features. "I can hardly believe that's really Earth. It seems impossible."

Norton glanced sharply at Captain Andrews.

"It's Earth," Andrews stated, not meeting Norton's glance. "The moon should be around soon."

The old woman did not speak. She had turned her back.

Andrews contacted the auto-grapple and hooked the robant pilot on. The transport shuddered and then began to drop, as the beam from Emphor caught it and took over.

"We're landing," Andrews said to the old woman, touching her on the shoulder.

"She can't hear you, sir," the robant said.

Andrews grunted. "Well, she can see."

Below them the pitted, ruined surface of Emphor III was rising rapidly. The ship entered the cloud belt and emerged, coasting over a barren plain that stretched as far as the eye could see.

"What happened down there?" Norton said to Andrews. "The war?"

"War. Mining. And it's old. The pits are probably bomb craters. Some of the long trenches may be scoop gouges. Looks like they really exhausted this place."

A crooked row of broken mountain peaks shot past under them. They were nearing the remains of an ocean. Dark, unhealthy water lapped below, a vast sea, crusted with salt and waste, its edges disappearing into banks of piled debris.

"Why is it that way?" Mrs Gordon said suddenly. Doubt crossed her features. "Why?"

"What do you mean?" Andrews said.

"I don't understand." She stared uncertainly down at the surface below. "It isn't supposed to be this way. Earth is green. Green and alive. Blue water and…" Her voice trailed off uneasily. "Why?"

Andrews grabbed some paper and wrote:

COMMERCIAL OPERATIONS EXHAUSTED SURFACE

Mrs Gordon studied his words, her lips twitching. A spasm moved through her, shaking the thin, dried-out body. "Exhausted…" Her voice rose in shrill dismay. "It's not supposed to be this way! I don't want it this way!"

The robant took her arm. "She had better rest. I'll return her to her quarters. Please notify us when the landing has been made."

"Sure." Andrews nodded awkwardly as the robant led the old woman from the viewscreen. She clung to the guide rail, face distorted with fear and bewilderment.

"Something's wrong!" she wailed. "Why is it this way? Why…"

The robant led her from the control room. The closing of the hydraulic safety doors cut off her thin cry abruptly.

Andrews relaxed, his body sagging. "God." He lit a cigarette shakily. "What a racket she makes."

"We're almost down," Norton said frigidly.

Cold wind lashed at them as they stepped out cautiously. The air smelled bad – sour and acrid. Like rotten eggs. The wind brought salt and sand blowing up against their faces.