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She had something else to say to the people of Rythar now: not that the gods were men, but that men were mad. Believe in the taboos; send up the sacrificial ores. It was a small price to pay to keep that madness away from Rythar. And Mryna knew she could not go back. With the Wheel gone, she could never return to Rythar; the auto-pickup was carrying her inexorably toward Earth.
While the woman held the tray, the man drove the needles through the caps of small bottles and filled the cylinders with a bright-colored liquid. "When are you leaving, Dick?" the woman asked. "In about forty minutes. They're sending an auto-pickup." "Oh, no!" "Now don't start worrying. They have got the bugs out of it by this time. The auto-pickups are entirely trustworthy."
Above the lounge a mica viewplate gave her a broad view of the sky. Mryna remembered that the man in the supply room had said he was waiting for an auto-pickup; he was on his way back to Earth. Mryna had taken his ship instead of her own. In panic she tried to open the door again, but she found no way to do it. Machinery beneath her feet began to hum.
And now it didn't matter. There was nothing she could do. Her ship was a poisoned arrow aimed directly at the heart of man's civilization. Mryna had slept twice when the auto-pickup lurched out of the time drive and she was able to see the stars again. Directly ahead of her she saw an emerald planet, bright in the sun. And she knew instinctively that it was Earth.
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