“I don't see how you can — with this!” She held up her pale hand.
“But, we do, Jannessa, dear. Does that really matter so very much?”
“It's what makes me different. It reminds me all the time that I belong to another world, really. Perhaps I shall go there one day.”
Toti frowned.
“That's just a dream, Jannessa. You don't know any world but this. It couldn't be what you expect. Stop dreaming, stop worrying yourself, my dear. Make up your mind to be happy here with us.”
“You don't understand, Toti,” she said gently. “Somewhere there are people like me — my own kind.”
It was only a few months later that the observers in one of the domes reported the landing of a ship from space.
“Listen, you old cynic,” said Franklyn's voice, almost before his image was sharp on the screen. “They've found her — and she's on the way Home.”
“Found — Jannessa?” Dr. Forbes said, hesitantly.
“Of course. Who else would I be meaning?”
“Are you — quite sure, Frank?”
“You old sceptic. Would I have rung you if I weren't? She's on Mars right now. They put in there for fuel, and to delay for proximity.”
“But can you be sure?”
“There's her name — and some papers found with her.”
“Well, I suppose—”
“Not enough, eh?” Franklyn's image grinned. “All right, then. Take a look at this.”
He reached for a photograph on his desk and held it close to the transmitting screen.
“Told them to take it there, and transmit here by radio,” he explained. “Now what about it?”
Dr. Forbes studied the picture on the screen carefully. It showed a girl posed with a rough wall for a background. Her only visible garment was a piece of shining cloth, draped around her, rather in the manner of a sari. The hair was fair and dressed in an unfamiliar style. But it was the face looking from beneath it that made him catch his breath. It was Marilyn Godalpin's face, gazing back at him across eighteen years.
“Yes, Frank,” he said, slowly. “Yes, that's Jannessa. I ... I don't know what to say, Frank.”
“Not even congratulations?”
“Yes, oh yes — of course. It's ... well, it's just a miracle. I'm not used to miracles.”
The day that the newspaper told him that the Chloe, a research ship belonging to the Jason Mining Corporation, was due to make ground at noon, was spent absent-mindedly by Dr. Forbes. He was sure that there would be a message from Franklyn Godalpin, and he found himself unable to settle to anything until he should receive it. When, at about four o'clock the bell rang, he answered it with a swift excitement. But the screen did not clear to the expected features of Franklyn. Instead, a woman's face looked at him anxiously. He recognized her as Godalpin's housekeeper.
“It's Mr. Godalpin, doctor,” she said. “He's been taken ill. If you could come—?”
A taxi set him down on Godalpin's strip fifteen minutes later. The housekeeper met him and hurried him to the stairs through the rabble of journalists, photographers and commentators that filled the hall. Franklyn was lying on his bed with his clothes loosened. A secretary and a frightened-looking girl stood by. Dr. Forbes made an examination and gave an injection.
“Shock, following anxiety,” he said. “Not surprising. He's been under a great strain lately. Get him to bed. Hot bottles, and see that he's kept warm.”
The housekeeper spoke as he turned away.
“Doctor, while you're here. There's the ... I mean, if you wouldn't mind having a look at ... at Miss Jannessa, too.”
“Yes, of course. Where is she?”
The housekeeper led the way to another room, and pointed.
“She's in there, doctor.”
Dr. Forbes pushed open the door and went in. A sound of bitter sobbing ended in choking as he entered. Looking for the source of it he saw a child standing beside the bed.
“Where—?” he began. Then the child turned towards him. It was not a child's face. It was Marilyn's face, with Marilyn's hair, and Marilyn's eyes looking at him. But a Marilyn who was twenty-five inches tall — Jannessa.