Carmody sprang out of the pneumo exit and ran down the corridor to bang lustily on the intricately embossed metal door of the Lockards' suite. After a moment, the girl, again in negligee, opened it. Her green-gray eyes widened when she saw who the late visitor was, and she put a finger to her lips. "Shh, Gabe's asleep; let's not wake him unless it's necessary." She closed the door softly behind him. "What is it ... Jed?" He was so choked with excitement that he could hardly get the words out. "Helen; will you make a break with me for Proxima Centauri? They won't ask any questions there, if we can get there. And from Proxima we can go--" "But your body?" "The hell with my body." He gripped her arms with powerful hands. "You mean much more to me than that worthless hulk." "But, Jed, Gabe'll never let us go...." Proxima Centauri--that had been Gabriel's dream, too.... His hands pressed so hard into her flesh, she knew there would be bruises on her skin; was she always doomed to fall in love with men who would leave marks on her? "Let him try to stop us. I'm bigger than he is, now." She looked up at him. "You always were, darling. But he has influence, though he wouldn't need it; he could simply set the police on you." "That's the chance we're going to have to take.... But perhaps I'm asking too much. I haven't the right to ask you to take such risks," he added bitterly. "I was thinking only of myself, I see, not of you." "Oh, no, Jed!" * * * * * "Who're you talking to, Helen?" a drowsy voice asked from the bedroom. It was followed by the comely person of Gabriel himself, fastening his dressing gown. "Oh, hello, Carmody." His face lighted up avidly, all sleepiness vanishing like a spent milgot. "Did you do it already?" "No, I didn't. And, what's more, I'm not going to do it!" Lockard looked astonished. "But what's wrong? You said you would." Carmody sighed. "Yes, I know I did. I was stalling. That's what I've always done--stalled, put things off, hesitated to make decisions. Well, I've made my decision now." "You're not afraid of him?" Lockard said in a voice that was meant to be taunting and emerged as querulous. "A little pipsqueak like that Keats? Or maybe half a million credits isn't enough for you? Is that it?"