efore feel impelled to cancel
their passages on this veritable Lord of the Stars._"

* * * * *

Evans remembered that christening. High in the scaffolding he had stood
on the platform with the christening party: the Secretary of
Interstellar Commerce, the Ambassador from Almazin III, the Governor of
Satellite Y, and President and Mrs. Laurier of Earth.

Swaying gently in the still air, the traditional bottle of champagne
hung before them, suspended at the end of a long ribbon. Mrs. Laurier's
eyes were shining, her cheeks flushed, as she looked at her husband for
a signal. At his smile and nod she had said in a high clear voice, "I
christen thee _Star Lord_!" and then reached out to grasp the bottle.
Before she could touch it, somewhere above them the slender ribbon
broke.

The bottle fell like a stone, plummeted straight down and crashed into a
million fragments on the floor of the satellite.

An instant's shocked silence, and then a roar of voices surged up from
the crowds watching below. Mrs. Laurier had put her hand to her mouth,
and shivered.

"What a dreadful thing!" she whispered. "Does that mean bad luck?"

President Laurier had frowned at her, but the Secretary of Interstellar
Commerce had laughed.

"Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Laurier. There is no such thing as luck. Even
without a bath of champagne, this magnificent vessel will prove that man
is certainly master of the universe. She begins her life well and truly
named."

The Star Line ought to abandon that silly custom of christening a new
ship, thought Captain Evans. It was an archaic ceremony, utterly
irrational, a foolish relic of a primitive world in which people had
been so uncertain of their machines that they had had to depend on luck,
and to beg good fortune of unpredictable gods.

Taking up _Ley's Space Ships_ again, he began fondly to reread the page,
when there was a knock at the door and a crewman entered.

"Mr. Jasperson to see you, sir."

The Captain stared, a tiny muscle in his cheek quivering.

"You know I'm not to be disturbed until after takeoff, Stacey."

"Yes, sir. But Mr. Jasperson insisted. He says he knows those rules
don't apply to _him_."

Evans closed the book, laid it on his desk, and stood up. He leaned
forward and spoke softly.

"Tell Mr. Jasperson--"

"Tell him what, Josiah?" boomed a voice from the opening door. "You can
tell me yourself now."

Burl Jasperson was a portly little