Silvia secretly planned to divorce George
when they reached Arcturus. But a space journey
can alter a careful plan--or hatch a worse one!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
August 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The trouble started when the _Arcturus Queen_ was four billion miles
out of Earth, heading for the star after which it was named. It pulled
clear of the solar system using conventional drive, then switched into
subspace. A few minutes later the ship shuddered perceptibly, and an
authoritative voice came reassuringly from the public address system.
"Passengers will please remain in their seats. We are temporarily
cutting the subspace drive due to mechanical difficulties which have
developed. There is no cause for alarm."
The message was repeated and George said, "What do you suppose is the
matter?"
"How should I know," Silvia snapped. "I'm not a space mechanic. Why
don't you find out if you're so interested."
He glared at her. "I was just wondering. You don't have to get so
disagreeable. But then, why should now be any different?"
She smiled at that, though her blood raced and her fingers itched
to make red ribbons of his face. "I've got plenty of reason to be
disagreeable--"
"Okay, okay," he said; "let's not go through that again." He got up.
"I'm going up to the observation platform." And he went down the
aisle between the rows of seats and disappeared through a door at the
farthest end.
She glared after him. That was always his way, running out on an
argument. Well, when this trip was over, there would be no more running
away.
A man dropped into the seat beside her.
"This seat's taken," she said automatically, and then realized the
man must have known, since all seats were reserved.
"I know," the man said. "I'd like to talk to you."
She studied him for a moment. He had a rather common face, one with
no particularly outstanding features, a face that would be difficult
to remember, she thought. He wore a plain business suit, with a
conventional white shirt and an unobtrusive tie. He did not appear the
wolfish type to her, but rather the ordinary businessman you might see
hanging onto helibus straps anyplace on Earth.
"You want to talk to me?" she said carefully. "About what?"
"Your divorce," the man said simply.
"My divorce? But--" She stopped. She was about to say, "But how did you
know?" when it suddenly occurred to her that George might have hired
this man to find out if she were planning one of those rapid Arcturan
separations. She hadn't thought to wonder if he suspected she was
planning one. If he knew about her divorce plans, he might take counter
measures just for spite; with Arcturan divorce regulations as they
were, that would be bad.