As she stepped uneasily aboard, she saw that Rolf had been deceiving her with his thoughts of a sybaritic interior. Instead of the pneumatic couches with cushions and soft carpets, instead even of the limited creature comforts of the big liner that had brought her to Mars, Lynne found herself in a tiny, cluttered cabin, surrounded by an incredible complex of instrument boards and machinery. Frightened, she protested, “But what if something happens to you, Rolf? How am I supposed to run all this mixed-up machinery?” “Use your woman’s intuition,” he growled at her. “And keep the monkey wrench away from my ear.” But his thoughts revealed reassuring pictures of IBM hookups working smoothly and automatically, with the gauges and other indicators and buttons, merely for emergency use. She sent him a silent okay, then said, horrified, “What’s that?” “That,” came Rolf’s answering thought, “is the plumbing.” Thus, he confirmed her worst fears. _It_ was amazingly, appallingly open, occupying as it did almost the center of the floor. Her thought was one of horror--_I couldn’t possibly. It’s too undignified._ To which Rolf, busily preparing for takeoff, flashed back, _So what, you little prig? We’re married aren’t we?_ _In name only_, she replied. _That was a real_ MARLET _trick. Wait till we get back! I’ll have it wiped off the books._ “Meanwhile,” he reminded her aloud, “it’s a long way to Callisto--and back. You’re caught fair and square, _vinral_, so why not enjoy it?” He had the further ill-grace to laugh in her face as words failed her and she sank down with a despairing sob. Minutes later, they were off on their unauthorized trip--and Lynne forgot her anger and outrage at Rolf’s casual male high-handedness long enough to feel terror as her Earth-conditioning reasserted itself. This was no space-liner she had embarked in, no interplanetary hotel with its staff of experts and countless safety devices. This was a two-place interplanetary spanner; a sort of hot-rod, a tiny non-seagoing submarine that was little more than an atomic power plant with operating instruments and a tiny cockpit stuck on top of it. She felt right out among the stars, even though vision-screens showing television pictures of their surroundings were the only instruments through which she could see out. By the chronometer high on the instrument board, it took them exactly nine days, eleven hours and twenty-six minutes to cover the 360,000,000-odd miles between Mars and Callisto, but to Lynne the journey seemed to last a tedious forever. And, from the thoughts that occasionally leaked through Rolf’s tight guard, she gathered it seemed even longer to him. She wanted him to suffer and she made him suffer.