As soon as the car rocketed to a sputtering stop before the airlock entrance, Was was a furry streak of black and white as he leaped from the car. Is stayed, red tongue lolling, eyes bright. Bill laboriously fished the ship combination slip out of his pocket. Then the Bennetts and Is unloaded from the car, gathered up Was, and they went inside the ship. It was a good, solid ship, no question of that. "And it's big," cried Molly. "There must be a dozen compartments. And libraries, Bill!" "Yeah," said Bill in awe. "Wonder what's the idea? Unk left enough books to last anybody a lifetime. And here's a matter-converter!" He stood over the matter-converter, fascinated. There was a large filing cabinet giving the matrix combinations for making almost anything. Even a combination-recipe for dog food! "I did Unk dirt by treating him the way I did," Bill said hazily. "All the while, he had nothing but affection for me." "A deep freeze," yelled Molly from the galley. "Enough real meat to last twenty years if we space it out with artificial proteins from the converter. Why, Bill, we could live here the rest of our lives if we wanted to--just in this spaceship." The dogs skittered happily around his heels as he wandered dazedly toward the sound of her voice and got a special arm-squeeze around her special-made waist. "We can go anywhere we want to," he marveled. "Up and down time, up and down the Solar System. We could spend our lives in comfort. Unk's supplied us with everything--record-player, tape-recorder, transcriber, dictaphone, shaver. We're set, Molly! Let's unload the car and get into the next century--for a starter." * * * * * "Hatches battened down," reported sailor Molly with a smart salute some two hours later. "Main sail keel-hauled--or sumpin'." Bill grinned, but it was a strained grin. "Man the lifeboats," he quipped back, a bit too inappropriately, because Molly paled. Bill squeezed her hand reassuringly, then turned his attention to the chrono-controls. He threw in the power. A dark vibration swept through the room, robbing the light of some of its intensity. "That's normal," Bill said hastily, but Molly said "Ooh!" and shuddered against him, while Is and Was sat on their prize-winning hindquarters and whined uncomfortably. Bill was feeling goose pimples himself. He watched the tubes proceeding through their changes of color. He set the pointer. When the tubes glowed a full violet, he threw the contact-switch down hard. What happened, he reflected later on when he woke up, shouldn't happen even to the manager of a sewing machine branch office. First, just before the universe turned hazy white and then quite black, Bill saw one tiny tube on the panel explode in a flash of yellow.