This didn't sound like the blithe-spirited girl he'd pursued for a year, then wooed and subdued. Lance studied her, then said slowly: "You're scared. About what? My first flight?" Carolyn's head bobbed timidly. Lance flashed a reassuring grin. "Everything has to be a brand-new experience, at some time or other. Me, I prefer to look at hype-flight from the point of view of the service. A routine thing. Just takes training. Otherwise," and he shrugged, "it's no more a risk than hauling groceries upstairs to some weather satellite." "Is it, Lance? When one or two ships out of every ten never make it back at all. Just disappear ... somewhere ... while the others--" "One out of thirty or forty, you mean. So hyperspace is a little tricky." "And there's always pilot error to blame, too, I suppose?" "Now that you mention it." "Only my man is immune from everything?" Lance smiled, a little wryly. "Any pilot can make boo-boos, Carolyn. I'm determined to try awfully hard not to." He added a slight qualification to his statement. "I've always been pretty lucky up to now, at not getting lost." "I thought the guidance systems and the autopilot computers took care of all the astrogation corrections?" "On a theoretically perfect flight, yes. It's equally true, however, that hyperspace's geometry doesn't always resemble the sort of lines and angles you find in our own universe--" * * * * * Lance abruptly stopped, realizing he was quoting text; his mind groped for a better way to explain. But Carolyn plunged in first: "You see, there do sometimes develop special situations." "Sure, sometimes." An exasperation crept into Lance Cooper's voice, despite his effort to keep it out. Hell, he was just a pilot; not a rated mathematician. He'd fly hyperspace by the seat of his pants, if he had to. "Lance," said Carolyn. "Yes?" "You feel it too, don't you?" "Feel what?" "That there is danger involved. That something dreadfully, dreadfully wrong _can_ happen to you while you're out there. No matter what the eggheads say about it." A paroxysm of sobs suddenly racked the girl's slender body. "Oh, darling, don't go!" "Honey, honey!" Lance patted her thin shoulders. "I love you so much." "Love you, too, Carolyn. You know that." "We shouldn't have postponed the wedding. It was wrong to set the date back." Lance shook his head. "Sorry. I couldn't see it any other way." He hugged the girl to him; she seemed more desperately frightened than he had realized. And again, as always when it came to comforting somebody, he felt as awkward and clumsy as some big lumbering repair-tug out in space--say--trying to patch a small trim patrol craft. But especially, he felt helpless in the presence of this frail, clinging, lovely piece of femininity he wanted so dearly. Nevertheless he could keep on trying--blundering though his words and gestures might be.