save that he'd lost all his young
manhood through a senseless crime. He wanted his youth back. He was
recovering it bit by bit. The occupation made it absurdly easy to live
on the surface of the far side of the Moon, whether anybody else could
do it or not.

Sattell had no such device for adjusting to the lunar state of things.
Living on the Moon was bad enough anyhow, then, but living one mile
underground from Pop Young was much worse. Sattell clearly remembered
the crime Pop Young hadn't yet recalled. He considered that Pop had made
no overt attempt to revenge himself because he planned some retaliation
so horrible and lingering that it was worth waiting for. He came to hate
Pop with an insane ferocity. And fear. In his mind the need to escape
became an obsession on top of the other psychotic states normal to a
Moon-colonist.

But he was helpless. He couldn't leave. There was Pop. He couldn't kill
Pop. He had no chance--and he was afraid. The one absurd, irrelevant
thing he could do was write letters back to Earth. He did that. He wrote
with the desperate, impassioned, frantic blend of persuasion and
information and genius-like invention of a prisoner in a high-security
prison, trying to induce someone to help him escape.

He had friends, of a sort, but for a long time his letters produced
nothing. The Moon swung in vast circles about the Earth, and the Earth
swung sedately about the Sun. The other planets danced their saraband.
The rest of humanity went about its own affairs with fascinated
attention. But then an event occurred which bore directly upon Pop Young
and Sattell and Pop Young's missing years.

Somebody back on Earth promoted a luxury passenger-line of spaceships
to ply between Earth and Moon. It looked like a perfect set-up. Three
spacecraft capable of the journey came into being with attendant reams
of publicity. They promised a thrill and a new distinction for the rich.
Guided tours to Lunar! The most expensive and most thrilling trip in
history! One hundred thousand dollars for a twelve-day cruise through
space, with views of the Moon's far side and trips through Lunar City
and a landing in Aristarchus, plus sound-tapes of the journey and fame
hitherto reserved for honest explorers!

It didn't seem to have anything to do with Pop or with Sattell. But it
did.

There were just two passenger tours. The first was fully booked. But the
passengers who paid so highly, expected to be pleasantly thrille