“Good.” He smiled weakly. “Send it. Now.”

With a reluctant sigh, Pancho said, “Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want,” he whispered. “And put in our claim to Haven, too.”

She nearly smiled. That’s more like Dan Randolph, she thought.

“One more day,” said Fuchs.

He and Amanda sat side by side in the wardroom. Fuchs was picking halfheartedly at a breakfast of prepackaged eggs and soymeat. Amanda hardly looked at her cereal and fruit.

“One more day,” she repeated glumly.

“You’re not happy.”

“Humphries is in Selene. It will start all over again once we get back.”

“Not if you’re married to me,” Fuchs blurted.

She stared at him. He looked totally serious, almost solemn. But then his thin lips curved slowly into a hopeful smile.

Before she could think of anything to say, Fuchs went on, “I love you, Amanda. I’m not proposing to you merely to protect you from Humphries. I love you, and more than anything in the universe I want you to be my wife.”

“But Lars, we’ve only known each other a few weeks. Not even that long.”

“How long does it take?” he asked. “I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you. It happened in an instant.”

She felt stunned. This steady, capable, thoughtful, intelligent man was looking at her expectantly, his whole life shining in his pale blue eyes. He loves me? Amanda wondered. We haven’t even kissed and he believes he loves me? Do I love him?

Fuchs licked his lips nervously and asked, “I know I’m only a graduate student and my financial prospects aren’t very wonderful, but could you — I mean to say, do you think…”

He seemed to run out of words. He simply sat there, gazing at her as if afraid to say anything more.

She thought swiftly, never taking her eyes from his. He’s strong. He’s steady. He’s wanted to come on to me, I’ve felt that often enough. Yet he didn’t. He never even touched me, never said a word until now. He’s honorable. It seemed like an eternity before she heard herself whisper, “Yes, Lars. I’ll be happy to marry you.”

You can learn to love him, Amanda told herself. You know you can trust him, you know he’s gentle and sweet. He’ll protect you from Humphries. Fuchs leaned toward her and slid a strong arm around her waist. Amanda closed her eyes and they kissed, softly, tenderly at first. But she felt him clutch her to him, felt real strength and passion in the lingering kiss. She wound her arms around his neck.

After several minutes they separated slightly. Amanda felt breathless. Fuchs was beaming like a thousand lasers. “We’ve got to tell Pancho!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “And Dan!”

Laughing, he took Amanda’s arm as she rose to her feet. He let her duck through the hatch to the bridge, then followed right behind her. “Pancho, Lars has asked me to marry him!”

Pancho turned halfway around in her command chair and grinned at them. “ ’Bout time,” she said. “I was wonderin’ when you two would figger it out.”

“We’ve got to tell Dan!”

Pancho nodded, scanned the instrument panel and saw that the ship’s systems were performing adequately, then got up and started back with them. “We oughtta perform the ceremony right here, get you legally hitched before we get back to Selene,” she said.

“Oh! Could you?”

“Is the captain of a spacecraft legally empowered to perform marriages?” Fuchs asked.

“Oughtta be,” Pancho said, shrugging.

They reached Dan’s compartment and softly slid the accordion door back. Dan was lying on his back, his eyes closed, a sweaty sheet covering the lower half of his body.

“He’s sleeping,” Amanda said.

Dan’s eyes popped open. “How can a sick man sleep with all the racket you’re making?” he said, barely above a whisper.

Amanda’s hands flew to her face. Fuchs started to apologize. Dan waved a feeble hand to silence him. “If you can establish a comm link, you can get somebody on Earth to perform the ceremony.”

“Hey, that’s right,” Pancho said.

Licking his dry, cracked lips, Dan asked, “You want the Pope in Rome? I’ve got some connections.” Looking at Amanda, he added, “How about the Archbishop of Canterbury?”

“One of the ministers in Selene will do,” Amanda said softly.

“I get it,” Dan said. “You’re in a hurry.”

Fuchs turned red.

“I want to give the bride away,” Dan said.

“Sure. Fine,” said Pancho. “I’ll set up the comm link.” She headed back toward the bridge.

It took longer to make the arrangements than to perform the ceremony, even with a twelve-minute lag between the ship and Selene. Amanda and Fuchs stood by Dan’s bunk with Pancho behind them. They had no flowers, no wedding attire except the coveralls they’d been wearing. The minister appeared on the wall screen opposite Dan’s bunk. He was the pastor of Selene’s interfaith chapel, a Lutheran: an ascetically thin young German with hair so blond it looked nearly white. Amanda could see that he was in his office, not the chapel itself. That didn’t matter, she told herself. He conducted the brief rite in English and with great dignity, despite the time lag between them.

“Do each of you take the other for your lawful spouse?” the young minister asked.

“I do,” said Fuchs immediately.

“I do,” Amanda said.

They stood there feeling foolish and fidgety for the six minutes it took their response to reach the minister and the six additional minutes it took his words to reach them.

At last he said, “Then I pronounce you husband and wife. Congratulations. You may kiss the bride.”

Amanda turned to Fuchs and they embraced. Pancho thanked the minister and cut the electronic link. The wall screen went dark.

They turned to Dan, lying in his bunk.

“He’s fallen asleep,” Amanda whispered. But she stared at Dan’s sweat-stained teeshirt.

His chest didn’t seem to be moving.

Fuchs leaned over the bunk and pressed two fingers against Dan’s carotid artery.

“I don’t feel a pulse,” he said.

Pancho grabbed Dan’s wrist. “No pulse,” she agreed.

“He’s dead?” Amanda asked, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

Fuchs nodded solemnly.

Pancho’s heart was thumping, and not merely from the heavier gravity of Earth. The quarterly meeting of Astro Corporation’s board of directors was about to begin. Would they follow Dan’s wishes and vote her onto the board? And what if they do? What do I know about directing a big corporation? she asked herself. Not much, she admitted. But if Dan thought I could do it, then I gotta at least give it my best shot.

She stared at the other directors as they milled around the sideboard of the luxurious meeting room, pouring drinks for themselves and picking out delicate little sandwiches and stuff. They all looked old, and dignified, and wicked rich. Most of the women wore dresses, by jeeps, or suits with skirts. Expensive clothes. Lots of jewelry, too. Pancho felt shabby in her best pantsuit and no adornments except for a bracelet and pendant earrings of lunar aluminum. They were ignoring her. They clumped together in twos and threes, talking to each other in low voices, not whispers exactly, but little buzzing heads-together conversations. Nobody even looked her way, yet Pancho got the feeling that were all talking about her.

Not even the plump oriental woman in the bright red dress spoke to her. She must know what it’s like to be an outsider, Pancho thought. But she’s keeping her distance, just like all the others.

Martin Humphries strode into the board room, decked out in a sky-blue business suit. Pancho clenched her fists. If he’s in mourning for Dan he sure ain’t showing it, she thought. None of them are.

Humphries nodded here and there, saying hello and making small talk as he made his way past the sideboard toward Pancho. He glanced once out the long window above the sideboard and seemed almost to wince at the view of the sea out there. Then he turned and came toward Pancho. Stopping a meter or so in front of her, Humphries looked Pancho up and down, the expression on his face pretty close to a sneer.