DANGER IN THE VOID By Charles E. Fritch Silvia secretly planned to divorce George when they reached Arcturus. But a space journey can alter a careful plan--or hatch a worse one! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy August 1954 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The trouble started when the _Arcturus Queen_ was four billion miles out of Earth, heading for the star after which it was named. It pulled clear of the solar system using conventional drive, then switched into subspace. A few minutes later the ship shuddered perceptibly, and an authoritative voice came reassuringly from the public address system. "Passengers will please remain in their seats. We are temporarily cutting the subspace drive due to mechanical difficulties which have developed. There is no cause for alarm." The message was repeated and George said, "What do you suppose is the matter?" "How should I know," Silvia snapped. "I'm not a space mechanic. Why don't you find out if you're so interested." He glared at her. "I was just wondering. You don't have to get so disagreeable. But then, why should now be any different?" She smiled at that, though her blood raced and her fingers itched to make red ribbons of his face. "I've got plenty of reason to be disagreeable--" "Okay, okay," he said; "let's not go through that again." He got up. "I'm going up to the observation platform." And he went down the aisle between the rows of seats and disappeared through a door at the farthest end. She glared after him. That was always his way, running out on an argument. Well, when this trip was over, there would be no more running away. A man dropped into the seat beside her. "This seat's taken," she said automatically, and then realized the man must have known, since all seats were reserved. "I know," the man said. "I'd like to talk to you." She studied him for a moment. He had a rather common face, one with no particularly outstanding features, a face that would be difficult to remember, she thought. He wore a plain business suit, with a conventional white shirt and an unobtrusive tie. He did not appear the wolfish type to her, but rather the ordinary businessman you might see hanging onto helibus straps anyplace on Earth. "You want to talk to me?" she said carefully. "About what?" "Your divorce," the man said simply.