They were startled by a sudden commotion, a flurry of voices, and turned to see the elevator doors open on the loading platform. A group of laughing people surged forward. "But I'm late again, darlings!" cried a vibrant voice. "You must let me go now! The ship is waiting just for me, I know. Stop holding me!" "But we don't want to lose you!" called a man. "You know I'll be back in the fall." "But the theater can't get along without you!" "But it won't be forever, darling!" Still laughing, Tanya Taganova pulled away from her teasing friends. She was a tall woman, very slender; very beautiful, with her burnished auburn hair and warm brown eyes. She walked forward with the swift precision of a dancer, in her flared gown of stiff green satin, whose ruff stood out about her slender neck to frame a regal head. In her arms she carried an enormous sheaf of red roses. With light steps she entered the port, then turned to wave at her friends and give them a last challenging smile. The Second Officer asked sharply, "Are you a passenger, madame? You're rather late." "And I tried _so_ hard to be on time for once in my life! I'm very sorry, lieutenant!" "Quite all right, madame. You got here in time, and that's what counts. But you'll have to hurry to get to your cabin before takeoff." "Wait!" said Steward Davis. His long face had come to life as he looked at her admiringly and extended his tray of flowers. "White roses? For me?" she said. "Yes, madame. Compliments of the Star Line." Turning her head, she moved away. "Thank you, but I'm not ready to wear white roses, yet. It's not that they're not lovely, but--" she raised her arms, burdened with their scented blooms, "you see that I already have so many flowers, and the red rose is still for the living!" Davis banged his tray to the floor and shoved it aside with his foot. "All right, madame. Now we'll have to hurry. We'll have to run!" * * * * * A final bell rang, a final light flashed. On the floor below the ship, the crowds of relatives and wistful stay-at-homes gazed up; at the beautiful metal creation, poised on its slender fins, nose pointed towards the opened dome. A vibration began, a gentle, barely perceptible shuddering of the ground which increased in frequency. It beat through the floor, into their feet, until their whole bodies quivered with the racing pulse that grew faster, faster, as the twenty-four total conversion Piles in the ship released their power. Then, as the people watched, between one instant and the next, the ship vanished. In the blink of an eyelid she had shifted to hyperspace. The _Star Lord_ had begun her maiden voyage. * * * * *