The mask was of the latest type, meant to fit over the head, snug around the cheeks and mouth and jaws. It was like a second skin, reflecting expression, not to be told from a real face. Bo saw the craggy nose and the shock of dark hair, limp now, but-- Suddenly he was back on Achilles, with riot roaring around him and Johnny Malone's body in his arms. No wonder they never found that Venusian. There never was any. Bo felt a dim shock when he looked at the chronometer. Only five minutes had gone by while he stood there. Only five minutes to turn the cosmos inside out. Very slowly and carefully he repacked the suitcase and put it in the rack and sat down to think. What to do? Accuse Lundgard to his face--no, the man undoubtedly carried that needler. And there was Valeria to think of. A ricocheting dart, a scratch on her, no! It took Bo a long time to decide; his brain seemed viscous. When he looked out of a port to the indifferent stars, he shuddered. * * * * * They came back, shedding their spacesuits in the airlock; frost whitened the armor as moisture condensed on chilled surfaces. The metal seemed to breathe cold. Valeria went efficiently to work, stowing the boxed instruments as carefully as if they were her children. There was a laughter on her lips which turned Bo's heart around inside him. Lundgard leaned over the tiny desk where he sat. "What y' doing?" he asked. "Recalculating our orbit to Luna," said Bo. "I want to go slow for a few million miles before going up to hyperbolic speed." "Why? It'll add days to the trip, and the fuel--" "I ... I'm afraid we might barge into Swarm 770. It's supposed to be near here now and, uh, the positions of those things are never known for sure ... perturbations...." Bo's mouth felt dry. "You've got a megamile of safety margin or your orbit would never have been approved," argued Lundgard. "Hell damn it, I'm the captain!" yelled Bo. "All right, all right ... take it easy, skipper." Lundgard shot a humorous glance at Valeria. "I certainly don't mind a few extra days in ... the present company." She smiled at him. Bo felt ill. His excuse was thin; if Lundgard thought to check the ephemeris, it would fall to ruin. But he couldn't tell the real reason.