"The sun," Ulana breathed, in awe. "I—I've never seen it, my Carson. It is most beautiful."
He drew her to him tenderly. "You'll see it every day, dear," he whispered, "when we're home."
Home—a wonderful thought! He'd not hoped to see it again; hadn't dared to since Antarro showed his hand back there in the asteroid belt. And now it was a reality. He was going home, and with him he was taking—Ulana.
"You—you think they will approve of me?" she was saying as he sent blasts from the steering rockets to swing them around on a new course sunward. "Your people, I mean. They will approve of your choice, my Carson?"
Anxiety showed in her wide-eyed gaze and she drew closer as if fearful of losing him.
If only she knew! If only he had words to tell her!
"Approve of you!" he said huskily. "Lord, girl, they'll love you! But not as I love you. It is the biggest thing—"
Tommy's discreet cough came from the head of the companionway. Blaine turned to glare savagely. His friend was standing there, grinning like an idiot and extending a paper-wrapped package.
"Look," he exclaimed guilelessly: "cigarettes. I found them, a whole carton."
"Well, I'll be damned!" Blaine exploded, careful that he spoke in English. "All you think of, all you've talked about since we left the vessel, is your hankering for a cigarette. For God's sake, get out of here and go smoke yourself to death."