ssor Larrabee laughed. "Logical, and perhaps a trifle presumptuous.
But I'm sure it's a meaningless coincidence, my boy. Now how about that
drink?"

Alan shook his head.

"Come, Dr. Chase. Allow me the liberties of an old man. You're obviously
ill, you want to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after you, and
enjoy the deadly luxury of feeling sorry for yourself. But we can't do
that sort of thing. Let me prescribe for you."

With an effort, Alan smiled. "All right, Professor. I usually do the
prescribing myself, but right now I'm too tired to argue. I'll accept a
spacecap with pleasure." He swallowed a panedol tablet to ease his pain,
then pulled himself up.

"That's the spirit, my boy! We will drink to the _Star Lord_, that she
may have a happier fate than her namesake."

* * * * *

Five minutes before takeoff. The first signal had sounded. The Bar was
closed by now, the lounges deserted, and in theory the twelve hundred
and fifty passengers were secure in their cabins, waiting for the
instantaneous jump into hyperspace.

At the port, Chief Steward Davis leaned against the wall with his tray
of wilting flowers, while the Second Officer and two crewmen stood by,
waiting for the final signal to close the port.

They were startled by a sudden commotion, a flurry of voices, and turned
to see the elevator doors open on the loading platform. A group of
laughing people surged forward.

"But I'm late again, darlings!" cried a vibrant voice. "You must let me
go now! The ship is waiting just for me, I know. Stop holding me!"

"But we don't want to lose you!" called a man.

"You know I'll be back in the fall."

"But the theater can't get along without you!"

"But it won't be forever, darling!"

Still laughing, Tanya Taganova pulled away from her teasing friends. She
was a tall woman, very slender; very beautiful, with her burnished
auburn hair and warm brown eyes. She walked forward with the swift
precision of a dancer, in her flared gown of stiff green satin, whose
ruff stood out about her slender neck to frame a regal head. In her arms
she carried an enormous sheaf of red roses.

With light steps she entered the port, then turned to wave at her
friends and give them a last challenging smile.

The Second Officer asked sharply, "Are you a passenger, madame? You're
rather late."

"And I tried _so_ hard to be on time for once in my life! I'm very
sorry, lieutenant!"

"Quit