* * * * * So that was that. You don't argue with the I. P. S. The next day found the _Pegasus_ loaded to the gunwales with all sorts of equipment. Cameras, spectroscopes, interferometers, gadgets and junk, the very names of most of which were just so much Sanskrit to me. That's where Johnny Larkin came in. He was not only our First Mate; he was our technological expert. But the Corporation also had the almighty viscera to fill one freight hold with cargo! "Concentrate of zymase," said the lading superintendent. "For deposit at Mars Central on the return trip. Get a receipt from the Medical Officer, Captain." "What's his name?" demanded the skipper gloomily. "Saint Peter? Oh, hello, son. Sorry I couldn't get you out of this mess. Where's Lorraine?" "That's all right," said Larkin. "Maybe everything will be all right. She's home. She wanted to come along but I wouldn't let her. Space is no place for a woman." Bowman growled, "This is a hell of a honeymoon for you, boy! An' for her, too. Well, we might as well lift gravs. Sparks, get clearance from the port." I said, "Aye, sir!" and did. At 19.03 on the nose we blasted hell-for-Thursday out of Long Island Port, for'rd tubes pointed at a mysterious new dot in the heavens that had already killed more men than a Central American rebellion. That was at 19.03. At 22.00 sharp, Slops boomed the gong for the late watch mess. And at 22.07, the door of the mess hall opened and in walked--Lorraine Larkin, _nee_ Bowman! * * * * * Cap Bowman had a mouthful of tomato juice when he laid eyes on her. Two seconds later, his mouth was open in a roar and the tablecloth had a mouthful of tomato juice. "Lorraine! What in the name of the seven sacred satellites are _you_ doing aboard? Don't you know--?" "Now, Daddy!" She smiled, and my heart did tricks. You've never been smiled at till you've been out in front of one of those extra-special de luxe Lorraine Larkin jobs. She was sugar and spice and everything nice, and don't some guys have all the luck? "Now, Daddy, remember your blood pressure." "Blood pressure be damned!" frothed Bowman. "You git right off'n this barge an' go back to Earth where you belong!" "It's cold out there," said Lorraine. "Remember? And besides, this _is_ where I belong--isn't it, honey?" She looked at Johnny Larkin, who was suddenly having trouble with his epi-brothers, dermis and glottis. The first was scarlet, the second was charging up and down in his throat like a berserk elevator. He managed to get a few words out. "You," he gulped, "shouldn't be here!" "And where else would a girl be," demanded Lorraine coolly, "than at her husband's side? Especially on her honeymoon?" She plumped herself down beside him. "Bring one more plate, Slops. There's company for dinner." The skipper rose.