The party was still going strong when we left at eleven. Solly and Dolly walked us out to our car. There really wasn't much left to say. We had found each other in friendship again, and would never again be nearer than nine-tenths of a light-year. "A pity!" said Solly, and I knew what he meant. The evening was very cool. Celia began to shiver. We took off, and the cabin heater warmed up the thermometer, but still we felt cold. Freddie sat in the front seat between us, dozing lightly. Our Cad Super roared through the night. Even at full power, Spaceport, Nevada, was thirty minutes away. The moon set rapidly. The night grew darker. "I fear that we will be caught," said Celia tonelessly, like a voice dissociated from body. Our ship's nose wavered slowly between Procyon and Pollux, Canis Minor and Gemini, back and forth, droning on in the blackness. "I fear for our little boy," said Celia like a soul lost in a maze of warped space. "What will they do to him?" "They'll never lay hands on him," I said softly. The Serpent writhed and Charioteer rocked as Twins dueled the Crab and Hunter pursued Bull. "That was a fine gesture you made," Celia whispered. "What?" "Giving them the money. I'm proud of you." The lights of Spaceport glowed on the horizon. It was a vast complex of launching sites, covering a hundred square miles. But only one ship could blast off at a time, and that ship would be flooded by searchlights. I singled out the Venus rocket and we descended. It was eleven-thirty-two. I handed Celia her two tickets. As we approached the Venus compound I could see several police cars parked on the field. Passengers seemed to be leaving rather than entering the ship. The gangway was crowded with people pouring out of the spacelock. "They're looking for us," I muttered. "Is that why they're all getting off?" said Celia. "They must be shaking down the entire ship." "This is the moment I feared." She tightened her grip on Freddie. "There must be a way of getting aboard!" I said. We edged forward to the gates of the field. "There is no way of getting aboard," said Celia. Her voice was hopeless. She motioned at a large bulletin board. The sign read: VENUS FLIGHTS CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE BECAUSE OF CIVIL DISORDERS ON THAT PLANET. I was weary and defeated, but I said, "Honey, we're not licked. We can still go to Australia." "I have a better idea," Celia exclaimed. It was as though a new current of life, a new gusher of hope, had burst through the surface. "Let's go to Primus Gladus!" * * * * * It was four in the morning. We had told Solly and Dolly the straight story. "Do you think we can get a berth on the ship?" my wife queried anxiously. "Is there any way you can help us?" The Mendelsohns exchanged glances. "I don't know," said Solly. "Truthfully. Let me think about it a few minutes."