"No," answered Patricia in surprise. "I think Cliff saved the day by showing up with a couple of women. I wouldn't have wanted to sit between the two of them all by myself. That would have been strictly murder. And I wouldn't have wanted to see Stellor off without saying farewell to Cliff. Stellor got here first with the plans--I was strictly a fence. I didn't know what to do. So I did it. And everything turned out fine." "You can hope that it will always turn out fine. What'll you do if one of them turns to some other woman?" Patricia laughed wryly. "I'd lose both of them, Dad. Believe me, I would. The other would barge in and set sail for the woman just as sure as I'm a foot high." "But ... but ... but--" "I don't really know--nor do I care too much." "Anticipating me? You mean you don't know which one really wants you and which other is just here for sheer rivalry?" Patricia nodded. "They don't, either," she said sagely. "It is a good thing that we have time. Time will out, as you've always said. Time will get us the answer. Right now I'm neither worried about time, or even not having my mind made up on a future. I've got a number of years of fun ahead before then." "Bright girl," laughed Kennebec. "Now let's get going. We want to see them off, don't we?" * * * * * Two hours later, seventy-five of the Solar Guard's finest ships arrowed into the sky above Mojave. In the lead, determined by a toss of the coin, was Stellor Downing's command. Thompson's outfit, running to his own taste, encircled the Downing cone at the base in a short cylinder, while bringing up the rear was Cliff Lane's long spiral. An hour out of Mojave, the flight went into superdrive and left the Solar Combine far behind in a matter of minutes. * * * * * By the clock, it was weeks later that the Solar Guard's flight dropped down out of superdrive and took a look around. The Little Man, in Thompson's ship, used his own instruments and indicated that the yellow star--it was more than a star at their distance--dead ahead was the one they sought. "Downing," called Lane. "How's your power reserve?" "Like yours, probably." "We'd better find a close-in, hotter-than-the-hinges planet where they won't be populating and charge up, what say?" "Good idea. Better than the original plan of charging in flight. If it's close in, it'll have ceased revolution, probably. We can hit the twilight zone and rest our feet a bit." "O.K. I'll put the searchers on it." "We'd better take it by relays, though. A fleet that's planeted for charging isn't in the most admirable position for attack." "Reasonable. You charge, Thompson'll guard, and I'll scout around." "You'll do nothing of the sort," growled Downing. "You and Thompson will both guard." "Afraid?" "No, you idiot. I'm jealous as hell. I don't want you to take all the glory." "And that's probably the truth," laughed Lane. "Take it or leave it."