looked at Carol. She returned his stare, drawing her arms up out of
the slots and leaning on her elbows, frowning in puzzlement. Her breasts
were pendent promises of--further disappointment? Were both love and
life to be reduced, in a day, to twin voids of defeat? Love was Carol
and life was a successful flight around the moon.

Discipline kept his act just short of viciousness as he slapped the
controls back to manual. Grimly he silenced the stern rockets, cut in
the bow units slowly. The flight was to have been a loop "over" the
moon, almost intersecting its orbit at the precise time it swung
ponderously by. What possible emergency could have arisen?

* * * * *

Ken couldn't remember just when the fear had started--maybe on the way
outward, now that he thought of it: the feeling of deep depression. They
were in free fall, weightless, the couch adjusted to keep them floating
within a few inches of its confines. The brilliant, abandoned moon had
just swung behind its big-sister world, the glaring furnace of Sol was
still thwarted by a section of bow hood.

He felt the fear mount--little tugging fingers frantically at work
within his chest. The blue sphere of Earth seemed to recede in the black
muck, although he knew it was only an optical effect of space--of the
vast, scornful emptiness in which the stars were but helpless,
hopelessly enmeshed droplets of dross.

He shivered involuntarily. With the movement he touched the side of the
couch and rebounded against Carol.

She screamed.

He stared at her, his fear mounting swiftly through panic to abject,
uncaring terror. Carol had drawn herself up into a knot, the fetal
position of infantile regression; her eyes were wide, unseeing, her
mouth open in the scream that was now soundless.

Ken felt his mind brinking on madness. He continued to stare in a
terrified frenzy until, from some tiny nook of sanity deep inside him,
came the realization that this was Carol beside him--Carol, who was his,
who needed him....

He fought. He staggered up from depths of bleak despair, aided by that
deep-rooted male instinct which rouses raging fury at danger to his
beloved. The innate protective impulse was heightened, strengthened by
that emotional desire which is strongest at first contact, undiluted by
familiarity and the consequent dissolution of ideals. The prime strength
of manhood blasted in a coruscating mental flare against the forces of
da