ably a paradise. Why
should the test colony let the rest of the world in on it? They're being
selfish."

I giggled. We relaxed.

After supper, Armitage played chess with Bishop while I followed Max
into the control room.

"Soon?" I said.

"Planetfall in eighteen hours, Doctor." He said it stiffly, busying
himself at the controls. Max is a small dark man with angry eyes and the
saddest mouth I've ever seen. He is also a fine pilot and magnificent
bacteriologist. I wanted to slap him. I hate these professional British
types that think a female biochemist is some sort of freak.

"Honestly," I said. "What do you think?"

"Disease," he said bitterly. "For the first six months they reported on
schedule, remember? A fine clean planet, no dominant life-forms, perfect
for immigration; unique, one world in a billion. Abruptly they stopped
sending. You figure it."

I thought about it.

"I read your thematic on Venusian viruses," he said abruptly. "Good
show. You should be an asset to us, Doctor."

"Thanks!" I snapped. I was so furious that I inadvertently looked into
the cabin viewplate.

Bishop had warned me. It takes years of deep-space time to enable a
person to stare at the naked Universe without screaming.

It got me. The crystal thunder of the stars, that horrible hungry
blackness. I remember I was sort of crying and fighting, then Max had me
by the shoulders, holding me gently. He was murmuring and stroking my
hair. After a time, I stopped whimpering.

[Illustration: Illustrated by STONE]

"Thanks," I whispered.

"You'd better get some sleep, Greta," he said.

I turned in.

I think I'm falling in love.

* * * * *

_January 19_

Today we made planetfall. It took Max a few hours to home in on the test
colony ship. He finally found it, on the shore of an inland sea that
gleamed like wrinkled blue satin. For a time we cruised in widening
spirals, trying to detect some signs of life. There was nothing.

We finally landed. Max and Armitage donned spacesuits and went toward
the colony ship. They came back in a few hours, very pale.

"They're dead." Armitage's voice cracked as he came out of the airlock.
"All of them."

"Skeletons," Max said.

"How?" Bishop said.

Armitage's hands were shaking as he poured a drink. "Looks like civil
war."

"But there were a hundred of them," I whispered. "They were
_dedicated_--"

"I wonder," Bishop said thoughtfully. "White and b