Bert thought savagely, I'm going to kill you, Miles Berendt. You've always lorded it over me—thought you were something extra special when we were kids. Now you've practically taken over the business I helped build. My business—the best damned space freight line in the system! And you've got your eyes on Carol—my girl! Well, look smug, Miles. This is your last day alive—tomorrow they won't even find your atoms!

"Something eating you, Bert?"

Miles Berendt closed the tally book and shoved it aside on the desk. He eased his six-foot frame back in the chair behind the desk and stared quizzically at Bert Tanner. Tanner was standing by the window, staring moodily out toward the long line of space hangars.

Tanner twisted abruptly, stared at Berendt, and laughed shortly. "What? Not a thing, Miles. Not a thing...."

Berendt sighed. "I'm glad. With business as good as it is, and that new contract with Deimos Mines almost in our laps we've got reason to celebrate. I thought maybe you, Carol and I could sort of relax with a few drinks at my place tonight—"

"Carol?" Bert bit her name out sharply. Too sharply. He forced the edge from his voice and glanced uneasily away from Berendt to stare out the window until he could get his emotions under control. Don't let him suspect—not now.... Out of the corner of his eye he saw Miles get up from behind the desk and walk slowly over toward him. Berendt had his hands in his pants pockets.

"You sure nothing's bothering you, Bert?"

Tanner started to turn from the window. But his gaze was caught by a trim figure coming into view across the smooth concrete expanse separating the office building from the repair hangar. It was a girl. A blonde girl. A dream of a figure in form-fitting plasti-silk. It was Carol. She was coming toward the office building, a file of papers under one arm.

"Bert. I asked you a question."

Tanner pulled his eyes away from the window. As he did so Miles glanced past him. A smile pulled at his thin, firm lips as he saw Carol approaching the building. The sun was going down in the west, and she was framed in a golden-red halo with the tapering, glinting metallic tips of two space ships, the Viking and Space Queen II in their ground cradles for a backdrop. To Miles it was a beautiful picture. The smile on his lips widened.

Tanner saw the smile and his own swarthy features grew dark. "You trying to needle me, Miles?" his voice was edgy, almost harsh.

Berendt pulled his gaze away from the window and Carol's vanishing figure as she rounded a corner of the building.

"Needle you, Bert? What the hell gave you that idea? You're acting pretty peculiar—"

"Maybe just normal. Could that be it, Miles?"

Berendt shrugged, glancing closely at his partner. "I know you pretty well, Bert. Something's bothering you. You're pretty moody lately. Perhaps you better not take the Deimos run if you're not up to it. Even Carol has remarked—"

"Carol?" The harshness was in Bert Tanner's voice. And Miles Berendt frowned as he saw the wild light that sprang up suddenly in Tanner's eyes. "So you and Carol have been talking about me!" Tanner almost shouted. "Or is it maybe that you've been talking to Carol—trying to poison her against me!"

Miles showed sudden astonishment. His hands came out of his pockets and he tried to place one of them on Bert's shoulder. "Look here, Bert, you really are upset—"

Tanner threw his arm away from him with a violent movement. "Get your goddamned hands off me, Miles." His voice grated and his hands suddenly formed into fists at his sides.

Berendt frowned, his eyes narrowed in thought now. "I was only half-kidding before when I asked you what was wrong, Bert. Now I'm demanding. What the hell's the matter with you? Every time I mention Carol's name you seem to blastoff."

Tanner laughed suddenly. But it wasn't a pleasant laugh. He moved away from Berendt and stood with his hands resting on top of a glassite table near the window. There was a scale model of a space ship—a trim freighter—resting on top of the table. As Tanner's eyes remained fastened on Berendt, his hand ran along the smooth side of the model ship.

"Women are like a space ship, Miles, or hadn't you noticed?"

Berendt frowned but did not speak.

"Go on, play dumb. You've been pretty good at it for the past several months. Thought you were fooling me, didn't you?"

"Bert, for crissakes, what's eating you?"

"See this ship, Miles?" Bert's voice had a tautness to it. "It was our first one. We built this business with it—or should I say, I built the ship, you built the business?"

"Whatever we did we did together, Bert. You know that. I've always said you were the real brain here—without your technical skill there wouldn't be a Tanner-Berendt Space Lines. But what are you leading up to?"

Tanner's hand ran fondly along the lines of the model ship. "A ship's like a woman—as I said," Bert said. "Both have beauty and dignity, but they're no good without a man ... the right man."

"You're talking in riddles, Bert."

Tanner laughed again. "Like I said, Miles, take this ship. Our first one. I practically built it by hand with Jeff Morrow helping. Jeff loved her almost as much as I did. Even you loved her, I suppose."

Miles nodded. "The Space Queen was a honey. But that was five years ago. Why all this retrospection? And Jeff's got quite a few other ships to love these days—our whole fleet!"

"We'll forget about Jeff," Tanner went on. "This is between you and me. I mentioned the Space Queen because the day we launched her was the day Carol walked into the office looking for a job. I hired her. She worked for me in the research labs for three years and everything was fine. Then you butted your nose in and convinced her she belonged in operations. She switched to your office—all very polite, but don't think for one damned minute I didn't know what you had in mind!"

"Bert, I swear to God if you don't stop blatting like a drunken spacer, I'll—"

"You'll what?" Tanner moved toward the desk and stood in front of Berendt. He was shorter by three inches, but his body was stockier. "Beat some sense into my thick skull? Teach me the facts of life? Maybe I've got a few ideas like that right now. Maybe I know all I have to know. Like talking me into giving you carte blanche in handling the Lines business affairs. Like—"

"We discussed that pretty thoroughly, Bert. You decided you wanted to stick close to the research and shop end. And—"

"—like stealing my girl."

Miles Berendt stiffened. The concern that had been on his features changed to shocked surprise. And then sudden anger.

"Now listen here, Bert. If you've got any crazy ideas about Carol and me—"

"You're going to deny that you are in love with her?"

Berendt shoved his hands back in his pockets. "That, Bert, is none of your business. And if you've got some paranoic idea that I'm doing something behind your back then I suggest you see Doctor Lenning. Aside from that, aren't you presuming a bit about Carol's feelings?"

"When she was working with me she used to be pretty close to me. You changed that. Maybe I ought to change a few things too. Like your face for instance."

The two men stared at each other tensely, silently. Tanner's eyes were glowing now with repressed hatred. Miles Berendt showed disbelief, as if he were seeing Bert Tanner for the first time.

"I don't want to fight you, Bert. Not that I'm afraid to. It's just that you're so wrong about everything. Good heavens, man—"

"On top of everything you're yellow." Bert spat the word out.

Miles pulled his hands from his pockets and his grey eyes hardened. "You shouldn't have said that, Bert. I don't have to take that from anyone, not even my closest friend."

"Then take this!" Tanner swung his right hand in a sharp uppercut swing. But two things prevented the blow from landing. One was Miles Berendt's swift backward move, and the other was the sharp slamming of the office door and a gay feminine voice.

"Hi, gang! Hey, what's going on in here? You boys fighting over someone?" she laughed.

Bert's fist stopped its movement and his arm fell to his side. He turned to see Carol Grant standing inside the closed door to the office, papers in one hand, the other placed provocatively on her well-rounded hip.

"Well? Are you both a couple of statues? Somebody say something."

It was Miles who cleared his throat and forced a grin. "Sounds silly, I'll admit, but I had a crick in my neck—Bert was going to try and straighten it out...."

Carol laughed. "Seems like a pretty drastic kind of cure. Bert, you looked like you were all set to land a haymaker!" She moved over to the desk and dropped the papers on top. "If you've still got that crick, Miles, I've got a better way to get rid of it. Sit down."

She moved between the two men and gently shoved Miles toward his chair. Embarrassed, Miles sat down, his eyes lowered from hers.

Carol moved around behind him and placed her cool fingers on the back of his neck. Gently she began to massage him. "There, isn't that better?"

Bert's face darkened as he watched, but he kept his emotions under control now. As he looked into Miles' eyes he realized that he had made a fool of himself. Would Miles suspect anything else? Inwardly Bert cursed himself.

"While I'm playing nurse to the boss, why don't you check over the Deimos contracts, Bert? I just put them on the desk. Now all we have to do is to get to Deimos and have the Waring Cartel sign up. I don't mind telling you I sweated on those papers. If I do say so they're as neat a package as our high-priced lawyers could turn out."

Miles managed a laugh to kill the tenseness inside him. "If you had your way, Carol, we wouldn't need anybody but the three of us to run this business."

She pouted. "Keep it in the family's my motto. Which reminds me, have you told Bert the good news?"

Miles dropped his gaze away from Bert and stared uncomfortably toward the far wall and the model of the Space Queen. He was glad Carol couldn't see his face at that moment.

It was Tanner who broke the suddenly strained silence. "News? What news, Carol?"

She stopped massaging Miles' neck and moved to his side to sit on the edge of the desk. She crossed one shapely leg over the other and there was a happy glow in her eyes as she looked down at Miles.

"There, I guess I've spoiled the surprise party after all." She looked over to Bert. "Did Miles tell you we were going to have a private party this evening?"

Bert nodded, his brow furrowed with a frown. "He mentioned getting together for a few drinks to celebrate the Deimos contract I'm going after tomorrow...."

"I guess I did spoil things, Miles." Carol flushed and looked at Berendt.

Miles shrugged. "No harm done, honey. Bert," he looked up at Tanner. "What Carol is trying to say is that we were planning on a few drinks to celebrate not only the Deimos contract, but also our engagement."

"Engagement!" The word left Bert's lips in a stunned gasp.

Carol nodded smiling and moved away from the desk with a lithe movement to stand before Bert. "That's right, Bert. We wanted you to be the first to know. Miles and I are going to be married as soon as we sign the Waring contract on Deimos. Miles wanted to have the wedding here on Earth, but like most women I've decided on an interplanetary wedding! You won't mind us going in the Viking in your place?"

The glance that Tanner threw at Miles Berendt was one of venom. Miles felt the whiplash of accusation that welled from Bert's eyes, from his darkening face, the clenching tight muscles around his lips.

"A few minutes before Carol came in you said that perhaps I wasn't up to the Deimos trip. What's the matter, Miles, didn't you have the guts to come out and say you planned on going, and why?"

Miles tried to keep his voice pleasant. "You're wrong, Bert. I meant to tell you tonight that Carol and I wanted to go in your place. What I said earlier was prompted by other reasons. I'm more than sure I was right about them now."

Bert laughed harshly, turned to Carol. "Miles suggested that I ought to see Doctor Lenning. While everybody seems to think congratulations are in order my partner infers I'm ready for a medic check-out. Bert Tanner, ready for the Lenning sanitorium on Venus. Where all space-happy company employees ease their tortured minds. A good place too for an unwelcome partner."

Carol's face showed shocked astonishment. "Bert! Have you gone insane—the things you're saying—"

Bert turned wrathful eyes on her. "I see he's even got you thinking his way! Well, I don't intend to go to Venus and see Lenning. I'm going to Deimos as planned. The Waring contract is half mine. I'll be damned if he steals the business from me too!"

Miles was on his feet. "I'm warning you, Bert. Stop that kind of talk. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know what I'm saying, and even more, I know what I'm going to do. I'm taking the Viking to Deimos, and once I sign with Waring you can consider our partnership ended. You can have the Earth operation all to your goddamned self. I'll start up with the Deimos deal."

Tanner leaned forward and scooped up the contracts from the desk as Carol watched him in stunned concern. "Bert—why—"

He turned toward her, his eyes smouldering. "Carol, you're making a mistake with Miles. He only wants you so he can pin up another triumph over me. He—"

"Get out, Bert. You've said enough."

Tanner looked at Miles Berendt. Miles had his arm around Carol but there was a fire in his eyes.

Tanner laughed. "You can forget about Deimos, Miles. I'm going in the morning. Jeff Morrow is setting the auto-pilot on the Viking as I instructed. I'm afraid you'll have to find another wedding present. One that you can't steal."

Turning, he slammed out of the room, hearing Carol sob in Miles Berendt's arms as he went.

On his way to the rocket hangars, Bert stared into the red sunset. It seemed to bathe the launching cradles in a fiery pool of blood. And his own blood pounded as he walked from the operations office building. You fool! he swore inwardly. You could have killed him tonight and made it look like an accident—but you had to make a scene.... Now Carol knows how you feel.... You've spoiled your plan.... He'll be on guard now.... You stupid fool!

In that moment he realized he had lost not only his chance to kill Miles with no possible suspicion on himself, but he had also lost Carol. Carol. He thought of her. Was she so blind? Didn't she know what Miles was doing? He remembered the way she had looked at Berendt. And then he suddenly knew that she was in love with Miles. Probably the two of them had carefully planned this Deimos move ... suggesting that he go to the Lenning institute on Venus....

The blood-red sunset fixed the Viking and Space Queen II in its fiery glow. Even at a distance he could see the crew of workmen around the base of the Viking. The ship being readied for Mars and its mineral laden satellite, Deimos. The ship that Berendt and Carol Grant had planned to usurp for their wedding trip.... Their wedding trip.

Suddenly Bert Tanner's lips pulled back in a harsh grin. It was all clear, suddenly. He had vowed that Miles Berendt would die before he left Earth. That seemed out of the question now. But was it? And Carol? Suddenly he hated her. Her beauty. Her smiling face and friendly charm. A sham. A damned miserable sham. Well, all right. Wedding trip. He thought, two can die as easily as one....

"Everything's all set, Mr. Tanner."

Jeff Morrow came up to him in the dusk as Bert watched the crew of mechanics leave the base of the Viking's launching cradle and head for the hangars.

"Right on schedule, Jeff." Bert shifted the papers he held and looked at his chrono-wristdial. "The auto-pilot set?"

Jeff nodded, his thin face smiling in the gathering shadows. "All you have to do is bring along a good book, Mr. Tanner. Escape velocity set for ten minute thrust; space drive will hook in automatically at thirty minutes, 70,000 m.p.h."

"Fine, Jeff. I can always depend on you. You're one man I can trust to do a job right."

Jeff Morrow grinned. "Thanks, Mr. Tanner. Working for you and Mr. Berendt is more than a job for me. You're two of the swellest guys I ever met."

Tanner was glad the shadows of night hid the grimace on his face. He slapped Morrow friendily on the shoulder. "Speaking of Miles, reminds me. He's having a private little party at his place tonight. To celebrate his engagement to Carol Grant. Said he'd like to have you drop around for a drink. Think you can make it?"

Morrow nodded. "Why, of course. Say, I hope you don't mind my saying it, Mr. Tanner, but I was wondering when one of you would get around to marrying Miss Grant! Mr. Berendt sure is a lucky guy!"

Bert's lips were twisted but he knew Jeff couldn't see them clearly. "Miles was the lucky man, Bert. But then, my life is tied up with my work. Marriage is something for the office boys...."

Jeff laughed. "Guess maybe you are right. But I'll bet you won't stay single long now that Mr. Berendt has set the pace."

"Maybe not, Jeff. Maybe not. You're all through here?"

"Yes, sir. Blastoff will be shortly before dawn. Care to make a final check with me?"

"That won't be necessary, Jeff. You run along and have dinner. I'll leave these Waring contracts in the control room of the Viking. I'll see you later over at Miles' apartment."

"Right, Mr. Tanner. See you later."

Bert stood in the thickening shadows as Jeff walked off. He stood there for long moments, staring up at the towering metal shape that was the Viking. A slim, beautiful ship in its launching cradle. A thing of power, an artistic triumph that could carry a man to the far planets in the solar system. Or to death....

He glanced across the concrete apron to the nearby launching cradle where the Space Queen II pointed its silvery nose to the twilight heavens. A sister to the original Space Queen, it was smaller than the Viking, but a thing of beauty in its own way. He smiled to himself. Tomorrow he would have Jeff prepare the auto-pilot on the Space Queen II for Mars. He would have a valid reason for the trip. Afterall, he was going to be the best man at a wedding, wasn't he? At least, that's what they would all believe. Perfect. A perfect alibi, and could he help it if the bride and groom never arrived?

Grimly, Bert strode over to the hydraulic lift and stepped into the narrow cage. He slammed over the control lever and felt the cage lurch under his feet. Then the ground fell away and he was moving smoothly, swiftly up the side of the three hundred foot tapering hull.

Moments later the cage stopped before an open airlock. Bert left it and walked into the narrow confines of the ship. He walked along the companionway to the control room. Passenger quarters on a space ship were necessarily confined to the nose of the vessel. With atomic reactors still in the lab stage, chemical propellants were still the motivating power that drove man into the void. Earlier fuel mixtures had been composed of various types: hydrazine plus nitric acid, and alcohol combined with liquid oxygen. Latest rocket fuels combined parts of both mixtures with catalytic agents to increase maximum power. Still, fuel supplies required over seventy percent of ship storage space. Thus crew or passenger quarters suffered. The auto-pilot had solved this difficulty somewhat, making a crew unnecessary. One man could safely navigate the dark reaches of interplanetary space with the auto-pilot doing the work of a five or ten man crew.

Bert made his way to the control room in the nose of the ship. He switched on the overhead light and glanced around. Everything was in order. But then, Jeff was a very thorough man. The best. Bert put the papers he carried on the forward grav bunk and strode over to the control panel.

Thoughts pounded in his head. It would be easy. So very easy. And foolproof. Jeff had said escape velocity thrust for ten minutes, space drive cut in at thirty minutes. That was the critical point. At cut in the catalytic agents joined with the rocket fuels to produce free space acceleration. A tricky business, but not for the auto-pilot. If the catalytic agents were cut in on escape velocity thrust, say between ten and twenty-five minutes after blastoff, the whole chemical firing balance would be thrown out of adjustment. That had happened before—before the days of the auto-pilot. In those days men had died in space. Their ship blown to a million pieces in the void as the unbalanced fuel mixture reacted with catalytic agents. A nasty way to die, but in a way merciful. The clumsy spaceman who miscalculated never knew what happened. The auto-pilot had taken the risk out of space flight.

It was now going to send Miles Berendt and Carol Grant to their death.

Bert went to work quickly, expertly. He snapped the latch lock of the control panel and laid bare the workings of the auto-pilot. A few simple adjustments, not discernible to anybody but an expert—if he were looking for something wrong. And then Bert was finished. He locked the control panel and smiled grimly.

Twenty minutes after blastoff the firing mixture would go out of balance as the catalysts cut in prematurely. There would be a hellish blast of flame and nothing but atoms floating in the void.

The atoms of Miles Berendt and Carol Grant.

He would make sure of that final step in a little while.

"Miles, I've come to apologize for acting like a damned fool. I don't know what else to say, except that if you and Carol will forgive me I'll do anything to make up for it."

Bert blurted the words out as he stood inside the doorway of Miles Berendt's apartment staring bravely at Miles and Carol, guilt and contrition on his face.

"I won't blame you if you kick me out, but I'm sorry, and I'd like to toast your engagement and wish you both the best...."

It was Carol who came around Miles and took Bert Tanner's hand firmly in hers.

"Oh, Bert, I knew you would come! I'm so happy—Miles is too, aren't you darling?"

Miles looked for a long moment at Bert's chastened face. Then he grinned and clasped his partner's hand. "Of course! Bert, you sure had me worried for awhile. I couldn't figure it out—but hell, man, I know the strain you've been under worrying about the Deimos contract and the Viking. Come on in. By God we'll have a real party now!"

Bert grinned and returned the firm handclasp.

He walked over to an easy chair and sat down, Miles quickly mixing a drink for him. Bert laughed.

"I invited Jeff Morrow over—hoping it would be all right. Jeff was happy to hear about your engagement too."

Miles nodded. "Glad you did. Jeff's a good guy. The most efficient man we've got. When will he be here?"

"Any time now." Bert took the drink and lifted it in a toast. "Here's to the happiness of my two best friends."

They toasted and Carol turned on the vid-player. Soft dance music filled the room as the door chime sounded. Miles put his glass down.

"That must be Jeff. Be back in a moment."

Carol sat on the arm of Bert's chair. "I'm so happy, Bert. This makes everything complete. Nothing would have been the same without you."

Bert stared at her, then lowered his gaze. "And nothing would be the same without you, too, Carol. It has to be this way...."

She puzzled for a moment over his words, but then Miles was back and Jeff was with him.

"Come on, everybody, let's celebrate. Tonight's the night for Tanner-Berendt, and—" Miles added with a soft glance at Carol, "—the future Mrs. Berendt. Gentlemen, a toast to the bride."

They toasted.

Then Bert grinned. "Jeff, there's been a slight change in plans for blastoff at dawn. Miles and Carol are going to Deimos in the Viking. Sort of a wedding trip before nuptials. The ship all set for an extra passenger?"

Jeff nodded. "Certainly, Mr. Tanner. Miss Grant will find everything in order. But I thought you—"

Bert laughed again. "Oh, I'm not bowing out—afterall, the bride and groom have to have a best man, even on Deimos. That's me. I'll take the Space Queen II."

Carol smiled in delight. "That's a wonderful idea, isn't it, Miles?"

Miles nodded. "That would be a fine thing, Bert." He turned to Jeff. "But is the Space Queen ready for flight?"

Jeff shrugged. "Nothing to do but set the auto-pilot. An hour's work, adding final fuel supplies. I can take care of it ok."

"Then it's decided!" Carol brightened. "Bert will be best man at our wedding on Deimos! Let's have another toast!"

They toasted. And Bert felt smugly giddy. It was perfect. The fools! With Jeff here, and everything sweetness and light, the Viking's blowup would be nothing but an accident, an unexplainable accident. Bert Tanner would be in mourning for his two closest friends, and Jeff would feel a lasting guilt that somehow he had been responsible. Perfect.... And Bert felt a desire to get gloriously drunk. He walked over to the portable bar and made himself a healthy drink.

"Watch it, Bert, you'll have quite a hangover by the time you blastoff!" Carol chided him.

Bert laughed, pointing at Jeff. "So what? This is our night to celebrate. With the auto-pilot I can bring along a good book or a hangover! Right, Jeff?"

Jeff agreed and joined Bert in another drink.

Then there was the music. And Miles dancing with Carol. More music. More drinks until Bert lost count. But he didn't care. This was sweet, the toasting of a wake, the perfect crime, a sadly wonderful occasion. Music. He danced with Carol. He stared at her with clouding eyes, aching inside, a terrible pain that wouldn't be stilled by anything except another drink. He had one. And another.

Miles and Jeff talking together. Pointing at him. He laughed to himself. They were concerned over his getting drunk. They were concerned over him! That was a hot one. One for the books. One for another drink....

It was hot and giddy. The room was a glorious pool of laughter, savage brutal laughter inside Bert's mind. Carol, Miles. Jeff Morrow talking to them, nodding. Bert knew what they were telling Jeff. Wisps of their conversation came to him from where he half-reclined on the couch. Jeff would be his nurse-maid. Jeff would see to it that he was put aboard the Space Queen II in one soggy, drunken heap. Jeff would strap him to his bunk. Good old Jeff. Good old efficient Jeff. And good old considerate and concerned Miles.... Miles who was as good as dead right now.

Music, time, liquor, they passed in a montage of fragrant clouds. Bert was aware that Carol kissed him lightly on the cheek as Jeff helped him to his feet and to the door. He was aware of Miles slapping him on the back and calling to Jeff.

"Take care of Bert, Jeff. We want him on Deimos for the contract and wedding!"

And Jeff assuring them he would. Good old Jeff.

Fog and pressure. Roaring sound that deafened his ears. Pressure that pushed him back, back, flattened his flesh tight against his bones. Pain in his head that wanted surcease with oblivion, but the pressure and roaring sound pushed the pain back, kept his consciousness aware, dimly, but aware.

And then the pressure began to ease. With the easing came a sobering effect to his alcohol-clouded brain. He became aware of his surroundings.

The roar and pressure. Rocket thrust to escape velocity. A space ship. It began to come clear now. No more music, no more drinks, no more smiling faces of Miles and Carol. Jeff taking him to the door.... Where then? The Space Queen II. Of course. Good old Jeff. Nursemaid Jeff. Bundling him off to Deimos to sign a contract and be best man at a wedding.

Consciousness returned to Bert Tanner and he laughed as he pushed against the restraining straps that held him to the grav bunk.

Wedding? There would be no wedding. The bride and groom would never show up! He laughed loud and long.

Then he stopped laughing. There was something wrong. Something he must find out about. He felt it. No, that wasn't it, he didn't feel it, he saw it....

This grav bunk—the control room. The Space Queen II. Something wrong—something....

He turned his head on the bunk and stared at the control panel. There was a confident hum from the auto-pilot, guiding the ship, carrying it into deep space with precision and infallible accuracy of timing. The control panel—this was not the Space Queen II!

He knew then. Incredibly, impossibly, he knew. He was in the Viking....

The Viking!

"No! No! It can't be—Jeff—what did you do—you made a mistake—this isn't the Space Queen—"

He sobered quickly. For he knew that he didn't have much time. A few minutes—perhaps less ... the auto-pilot—he had set it—the unbalanced fuel mixture—Miles and Carol—they should be here! What had gone wrong?

He struggled with the straps. The hum of the auto-pilot. The precision hum, the hum of death—death he had arranged, planned....

In an agony of time he tore the straps loose. He rolled groggily from his grav bunk. He staggered to the control panel. Time, he must beat time. How much time did he have left?

He fumbled at the latch controls of the auto-pilot. A minute now was all he needed. One minute to divert eternity....

The panel opened, his fingers shook as he reached for the automatic setting.

The hum grew, a click in the electronic mechanism. He knew then it was too late. He screamed. Once. Only once. That was all he had time for. A flash of light engulfed him. A roar he didn't hear. A roar that was swallowed by the vast hunger of empty space.

The Viking exploded into a myriad atomic particles.

"You get him off all right, Jeff?"

Miles Berendt adjusted the video-screen as Jeff Morrow's face grinned back at him from the operations office on Earth. Beside Miles, Carol smiled at Jeff as she sat in the co-pilot's seat.

"Soggy, but safe, Mr. Berendt. He'll have a pleasant surprise when he wakes up and finds himself in the Viking instead of the Space Queen II."

Miles nodded. "I know he wanted to make the trip in the Viking. Besides, Carol and I prefer the Space Queen II. Makes it sort of a sentimental journey."

Carol laughed beside him. "Thanks for everything, Jeff. We'll bring you back a piece of wedding cake wrapped in a nice fat freight contract!"

Miles broke contact then and turned to Carol. She reached out and squeezed his hand affectionately.

"I'm glad everything turned out all right with Bert...." she said.

He nodded. "Right, honey. But enough talk. Let's relax and enjoy the trip!"

And they did.