Twelve precious minutes were squeezed out of the countdown for the ceremony. We marched in spacesuits, sans helmets, to the launching pad--five male astronauts and one female, accompanied by a federal judge named Lockhart who had no part in the conspiracy but who had been asked to perform the rites because he was a friend of some governor. No ring was used, since it would have been impossible to slip it over the spacesuit glove Gail wore. We joined hands while the judge spoke into a microphone and the words were carried, via radio and television, to the far reaches of our planet, even to the fur-clad outposts at Thule and Antarctica. Nearby were photographers to record the lie for posterity. A conventional bridegroom is in a state of shock and he scarcely realizes what is going on. I heard everything, realizing I was perjuring myself every step of the way. I accepted Gail as my lawful, wedded wife, knowing we would not really be married. She accepted me as her lawful, wedded husband, knowing it was all a lie. Finally it ended. Judge Lockhart said, "You may kiss the bride." This I could do without faking. I took her in my arms and drew her close. As she turned her face to mine, I thought for a moment that this, at least, would be real. But when I started to meet her lips with mine, she quickly turned her cheek. The kiss, too, turned out to be a fraud. My four companions also kissed her--on the cheek. Then we stepped into the cherry-picker which would lift us to the nose capsule of the Saturn. Two technicians rode with us to help adjust our harnesses and to make sure we were snug in our seats before the lift-off. The seats were backed against the wall in a hexagonal arrangement, with a small instrument panel directly in front of Spartan's position. "Sit on my left, Ludson," said Spartan. "Joel, you sit on my right. I think we can allow the bride and groom to sit side-by-side, since this is to be their honeymoon ride." Morrie Grover snickered. "There's no cause for mirth," said Spartan sharply. "There's going to be nothing funny about this trip." Morrie sobered and grew red-faced. I felt sorry for the kid. The laugh had been caused by nervousness. All of us had been in space, of course, but this trip was anything but routine. The lift-off and the re-entry are the most dangerous phases of space flight, any way you look at it. We put on our helmets and the technicians adjusted them. There was a microphone in each so that we could communicate, but no one, not even Spartan, said anything. "Sixty minutes!" came the voice from the countdown. Sixty long minutes of sitting. I wondered how I could stand the strain. Turning my head, I looked at Gail Loring beside me. She stared straight ahead, her lips pressed tight and her eyes glistening. She must have seen my head move, for she turned and looked at me. "Good luck, Mrs. Drake," I said. "The name is Gail Loring, and don't forget that, Bill Drake," she said. I could have slapped her.