She was Cap Bowman's daughter; she was the bride of Johnny Larkin. A gal doesn't get to be both of those things without having more innard-stuffings than a sofa-cushion. My words heaved her back on her heels, but only for a fraction of a second. Then, smiling, she turned to Johnny. "We're not afraid, are we, honey? But you'll have to hurry now." Larkin pawed his hair frantically. "I'm doing my best. I've got all the facts. But I still can't quite understand--" Voices rasped in over the audio. Anderson reported from the sleeping quarters, "All men evacuated, sir. Standing by for further orders." MacPhee snarled defiance from the engine deck, "We've plugged all doors, sirrr! We'll hold this position to the last posseeble minute!" "It's a form of carbohydrate," mused Larkin aloud. "Plastic. Semi-fluid. But why? Why?" "Think hard, sugar!" pleaded Lorraine. Larkin said mechanically, "Yes, honey--" Then he stiffened. "Honey!" he said. I groaned. "This is no time for lovey-dove talk, Johnny!" I cried. "Keep scratching at those gray cells--" And over the audio, the voice of super-cargo Freddy Harkness. "Am abandoning holds, Captain. The invading--er--substance has already covered the aft bins and is moving forward rapidly." "Seal the safety door, Harkness--" began Bowman. Then Larkin was at his side, suddenly frantic, eager. "No, Skipper! Tell him to keep them open a minute! I'll be right there. I need three men!" He lit out for the door. Bowman cried, "No, son--come back! You'll be killed. Come--" But he was talking to empty air. Johnny was pounding down the runway. Lorraine sniffed once. Then her jaw hardened. She said, "I'm going after him." Bowman pushed her into a chair--but hard. He said, "You're waiting here! With us. You'll only be in his way. Johnny's the tech man on this ship. If anybody can save us, he's the one." But as her head lowered, his eyes met mine. And the words were written there, "Not this time--" * * * * * Still, we had to do something. We couldn't just sit there and take it blind. We had to know what was going on. So we cut in the visiplate to the corridor outside the storage bins. It was a dismal scene that appeared before us. The long corridor was deserted save for a thin sliver of something oozing out of an adjacent chamber. As we watched, this sliver turned to a bulky, rolling mass; became the doughy body of the mysterious matter in which the _Pegasus_ was caught. Like a ponderous wave it surged up the corridor, straining into every crack and crevice, engulfing everything it met. We saw a tiny, gray ship mouse scurry from under a doorway, hesitate as one pink foot slipped into the sluggish excrescence. It tugged, trying to get free. But it was like a fly snared on flypaper. It couldn't move. In a few seconds it disappeared. Lorraine began crying softly. I turned away, too sickened to condemn myself again for having loosed this thing amongst us.