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The men came down and stood on the edge of the little black sea.
Chatterton stopped yelling.
After a long minute of staring into the silent tar-pool, Chatterton turned and looked at the hills, blindly, at the green rolling lawns. The distant trees were growing fruit now and dropping it, softly, to the ground.
‘I’ll show it,’ he said quietly.
‘Take it easy, Chatterton.’
‘I’ll fix it,’ he said.
‘Sit down, have a drink.’
‘I’ll fix it good, I’ll show it it can’t do this to me.’
Chatterton started off back to the ship.
‘Wait a minute, now,’ said Forester.
Chatterton ran. ‘I know what to do, I know how to fix it!’
‘Stop him!’ said Forester. He ran, then remembered he could fly. ‘The A-Bomb’s on the ship, if he should get to that….’
The other men had thought of that and were in the air. A small grove of trees stood between the rocket and Chatterton as he ran on the ground, forgetting that he could fly, or afraid to fly, or not allowed to fly, yelling. The crew headed for the rocket to wait for him, the Captain with them. They arrived, formed a line, and shut the rocket port. The last they saw of Chatterton he was plunging through the edge of the tiny forest.
The crew stood waiting.
‘That fool, that crazy guy.’
Chatterton did not come out on the other side of the small woodland.
‘He’s turned back, waiting for us to relax our guard.’
‘Go bring him in,’ said Forester.
Two men flew off.
Now, softly, a great and gentle rain fell upon the green world.
‘The final touch,’ said Driscoll. ‘We’d never have to build houses here. Notice it’s not raining on us. It’s raining all around, ahead, behind us. What a world!’
They stood dry in the middle of the blue, cool rain. The sun was setting. The moon, a large one the colour of ice, rose over the freshened hills.
‘There’s only one more thing this world needs.’
‘Yes,’ said everyone, thoughtfully, slowly.
‘We’ll have to go looking,’ said Driscoll. ‘It’s logical. The wind flies us, the trees and streams feed us, everything is alive. Perhaps if we asked for companionship …’
‘I’ve thought a long time, today and other days,’ said Koestler. ‘We’re all bachelors, been travelling for years, and tired of it. Wouldn’t it be nice to settle down somewhere. Here, maybe. On Earth you work like hell just to save enough to buy a house, pay taxes; the cities stink. Here, you won’t even need a house, with this weather. If it gets monotonous you can ask for rain, clouds, snow, changes. You don’t have to work here for anything.’
‘It’d be boring. We’d go crazy.’
‘No,’ Koestler said, smiling. ‘If life got too soft, all we’d have to do is repeat a few times what Chatterton said: “Here there be tygers.” Listen!’
Far away, wasn’t there the faintest roar of a giant cat, hidden in the twilight forest?
The men shivered.
