_Not yet!_ She smiled. But she hadn’t waited to hear what he said. And she hadn’t opened her mouth when she spoke. Nor had he--the first time. _You know it’s true, darling_.... Her voice, yes, but voiceless.... Their helmets now were clear inches apart. _Listen! she insisted._ _Monday afternoon_, she told him, reciting, _you sat in the Messenger dining room and watched the Moon, and you thought you could see it get bigger and bigger each time it went around, if you could have microcalipers to measure with_.... _This morning, you watched every step of the ion blast_.... _Yesterday_.... It went on and on. It battered, without hurt; pushed, without tearing; forced itself into his consciousness tenderly, gently, inexorably. It _was_ true. It _worked_. Like the ion engine--like anything--_it worked_! He saw it work, felt it work, _knew_ it worked. So it was true. _Why?_ _How?_ _I’ll show you, darling_.... He let her draw him back to the tank, and sat down beside her. _The Shack--8_ P.M.--_In the Guardhouse_ “You are Maria Harounian?” Bourgnese asked sternly. “Yes.” “You speak English?” “Only few words.” “You are from Red Dome--from the S.U.A.R. Dome?” She nodded. He turned to Kutler. “How long has she been with you in there?” “She was there when I got there; two hours, maybe? I don’t know if you noticed, Thad. She’s--quite pregnant. You might ask her to sit.” “All right. Would you like to sit down, Maria?” She shook her head. “No-thank.” She smiled. When she smiled, her wide blonde face looked remarkably like Lisa Trovi’s long dark-skinned face. “You saw her enter the Shack?” Some shuffling of feet. “Yes, sir.” “And you permitted her to enter?” “Well, yessir. Miss Trovi said--” “You did not see fit to inform us in Dome?” “Sir, Miss Trovi said this lady was with _her_. She took all responsibility.” “But you knew a search was being conducted for Miss Harounian?” “Well, yes, but we didn’t know it was _her_. Miss Trovi came to the door, and said, her and her friend going in to the Shack, let ’em know if anyone tries to call....” “You didn’t ask who her ‘friend’ was?” Thad shook his head, incredulous. These men were _good_ guards. They knew their job. “Well, no sir.” “Sir--” It was the Russian girl. “Yes?” “Sir--she want us. Calling now.” There was an odd sort of urgency in her voice, in her face, her whole stance. “Right!” The three of them started back to the Shack, with just one small part of Thad’s mind still wondering why neither he nor the guards had called Chris yet. Inside the Shack, Lisa waited, with Johnny beside her. She smiled a welcome to the Soviet girl; included the two men afterwards. She beckoned Phil. “Start the tape? I’ll try to keep talking it.” _Mars--April, 1975--Doug Laughlin_