Marcus smiled in the near darkness. The boy had been around girls so
seldom he didn't know how they behaved. He had mistaken a normal
reaction to the opposite sex for something more. Nevertheless it had
worked out nicely. Wilbur would not remember who it was that Mary Ellen
had really pursued. With the feverish egotism of youth he would retain
only the memory of the interest she'd shown in him. A kiss would haunt
him for years. "Am I to understand you made love to her?" he asked
sternly, amused at his own inaccuracy.

"Oh, Pa," said Wilbur. "I kissed her."

"These affairs pass away."

"I still gotta say good-by," said Wilbur.

"We'll see," said Marcus. Not if he could help it, would they. It would
be a terrible thing if, on parting, Mary Ellen would throw her arms
around him, ignoring Wilbur. She was too young to understand what it
might mean to someone even younger than herself. Marcus went to sleep
with the satisfaction of a man who is in full control of destiny.

In the morning there was no need for subterfuge. A ship was going near
Mezzerow. Not directly to it, the planet wasn't that important. But it
was merely a short local hop from one of the planets on the schedule.
Mezzerow. After all these years he could call it by the rightful name
without feeling provincial.

The excitement of the return trip shook Wilbur out of his preoccupation
with Mary Ellen. Marcus packed and had the luggage zipped to the space
port. He called Chloe and completed the financial arrangements and left
a message for her sister who was at work.

And then they were at the port, entering the ship. There was a short
wait before takeoff. They settled in the cabin and Wilbur promptly went
to sleep. Food, sleep, girls; it was all a young man had time for.

But Marcus couldn't rest though he was tired. He wanted to hear the
schedule announced. By this time the correction should have been made.
The rockets started, throbbing softly as the tubes warmed up. Wilbur
awakened with a start, sitting on the edge of the acceleration
diaphragm. "Do you think they'll announce it?" he asked.

"I think so," said Marcus. The Universe would know that it was Mezzerow.

The rockets throbbed higher; the cabin shook. Weren't they going to call
the schedule? The intercom in the cabin rasped.

They were. "Bessemer, Coarsegold," said the speaker.

"Get on the acceleration couch," said Marcus as he did so himself.

"Noreen, Cassalmont," the speaker droned.