WIND IN HER HAIR By Kris Neville To Marte and Johnny Nine the space ship was their world. And yet they dreamed of returning home to Earth ... a planet they had never seen. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy October 1950 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "Marte!" His voice echoed hollowly, dying away to an eerie whisper, fainter and fainter. "Marte!" It was very silent here on the last level below the giant atomic motors. The feeble light showered down from a single overhead bulb; it was their special bulb. Marte always lit it when she came below. "Marte!" His voice was almost pleading. "Here I am, Johnny. Over here." "Little imp," he said, not unkindly. "What do you mean, hiding?" "Hiding, Johnny? I wasn't hiding.... And besides, you looked so funny and lost, standing there, calling me." He saw her, now, sitting half in shadow, leaning against the far bulkhead. His feet ping-pinged on the uncarpeted deck plates as he crossed to her. "Hello," she said brightly. She threw back her head, and her eyes caught the dim light and sparkled it. "I hoped you'd come today." Smiling, she held out her hand. He took it. "I really shouldn't have," he said. "Oh?" She puckered her lips in mock anger and drew him down beside her. "Didn't you _want_ to come?" "You know I did." "Then why?" "They might need me in Control," he said, half seriously. Marte's eyes opened an involuntary fraction. "Nothing's wrong, is there?" Her lips had lost their sudden, native smile, and the smile in her eyes half fled. "No. Everything's fine.... I just meant in case...." "Oh, Johnny, don't say it; please." Her eyes spoke with her voice, emotions bubbled in them. Her face had something of a woman's seriousness in it, the product more of native understanding than experience, and much of a girl's naivete. "Don't even _think_ about anything like that." She looked up at him, studied his face intently, and then said, "Tell me that: Say nothing's going to go wrong." "I was just talking, Marte. Nothing can go wrong; not now." "Say it again!" "Nothing is going to go wrong," he said slowly, giving each word its full meaning. "Do you really--really and _truly_--believe that?" she asked. "Of course I do, Marte." The girl smiled. "I do too--only--" The smile faded. Her eyes focused on some distant place, beyond the last level, beyond the Ship itself. "Only sometimes I'm afraid it's too good to happen.... That I'm dreaming, and that all at once I'll wake up, and--" She shook her head. "But that's silly, isn't it, Johnny?" "Yes," he said. He settled back and rested against the bulkhead. * * * * *