Bert's lips were twisted but he knew Jeff couldn't see them clearly. "Miles was the lucky man, Bert. But then, my life is tied up with my work. Marriage is something for the office boys...." Jeff laughed. "Guess maybe you are right. But I'll bet you won't stay single long now that Mr. Berendt has set the pace." "Maybe not, Jeff. Maybe not. You're all through here?" "Yes, sir. Blastoff will be shortly before dawn. Care to make a final check with me?" "That won't be necessary, Jeff. You run along and have dinner. I'll leave these Waring contracts in the control room of the _Viking_. I'll see you later over at Miles' apartment." "Right, Mr. Tanner. See you later." Bert stood in the thickening shadows as Jeff walked off. He stood there for long moments, staring up at the towering metal shape that was the _Viking_. A slim, beautiful ship in its launching cradle. A thing of power, an artistic triumph that could carry a man to the far planets in the solar system. Or to death.... He glanced across the concrete apron to the nearby launching cradle where the _Space Queen II_ pointed its silvery nose to the twilight heavens. A sister to the original _Space Queen_, it was smaller than the _Viking_, but a thing of beauty in its own way. He smiled to himself. Tomorrow he would have Jeff prepare the auto-pilot on the _Space Queen II_ for Mars. He would have a valid reason for the trip. Afterall, he _was_ going to be the best man at a wedding, wasn't he? At least, that's what they would all believe. Perfect. A perfect alibi, and could he help it if the bride and groom never arrived? Grimly, Bert strode over to the hydraulic lift and stepped into the narrow cage. He slammed over the control lever and felt the cage lurch under his feet. Then the ground fell away and he was moving smoothly, swiftly up the side of the three hundred foot tapering hull. * * * * * Moments later the cage stopped before an open airlock. Bert left it and walked into the narrow confines of the ship. He walked along the companionway to the control room. Passenger quarters on a space ship were necessarily confined to the nose of the vessel. With atomic reactors still in the lab stage, chemical propellants were still the motivating power that drove man into the void. Earlier fuel mixtures had been composed of various types: hydrazine plus nitric acid, and alcohol combined with liquid oxygen. Latest rocket fuels combined parts of both mixtures with catalytic agents to increase maximum power. Still, fuel supplies required over seventy percent of ship storage space. Thus crew or passenger quarters suffered. The auto-pilot had solved this difficulty somewhat, making a crew unnecessary. One man could safely navigate the dark reaches of interplanetary space with the auto-pilot doing the work of a five or ten man crew.