"The acceleration bother you?" Brace asked.
"No," she replied, quietly.
He walked over and stood by the bunk. The girl rose slowly and sat, staring up at him. "You're going to do it now?"
Brace looked down at his gnarled hands, clenched his fingers and studied them. "Would you like anything?" he asked slowly.
She looked up at him helplessly, frightened. Then she looked quickly around the room in frantic darts, as though grasping, groping for something. "I—I—don't know—I guess I'd like to see the stars—just once more."
Brace compressed his lips. "Yeah—sure." He took a deep breath and turned partly away. He stood there, awkwardly for a moment, then said, "Come on, kid."
His hairy hand closed over her small one as he helped her up from the bunk. The diaphanous dancing costume fluttered as she moved, and for some reason, he kept hold of her hand until they reached the cabin door. He opened it for her and she stepped through. He dared not to look at her face as they stood outside the cabin, smooth, youthful skin, dark brown eyes holding all of that deep hurt and reproach which men see in the eyes of a dying doe. He looked away quickly.
"This way," Brace said, walking ahead. He couldn't bring himself to look at those eyes again. Not yet, anyway.
They stopped in the companionway, even with the port, and Brace climbed a set of iron rungs set in the wall. His fingers fumbled with the dogs on a small hatch, then he threw it back. The girl climbed up after him and he leaned down to lift her into the astrogator's bubble. His strong, tough hands clasped her under the shoulders and lifted her into the small room whose top was a transparent hemisphere, large enough for a man to stand upright under it. She was warm, soft, yet firm to his touch and he hesitated an instant before letting her go.
Then terror clutched at him. He couldn't do it! He couldn't! Better Gartland's life than no life at all. She was too young, too much alive to die.