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Lon grasped this much, and it occurred to him that the crew of such a yacht would be chosen for its willingness to coöperate in its owner’s enterprises. And Lon went somewhat pale, for Cathy was with him.

The ship went up and up, with the dark shutters over the ports showing that it was in sunshine fierce enough to be dangerous on unshielded flesh. Presently there was the feel of maneuvering. After a time the shutters flipped open and stars were visible.

Lon went quickly to a port and looked out. The great black mass of the night side of Cetis Gamma Two filled half the firmament. It blotted out the sun. The space yacht might be two or three thousand miles up and in the planet’s umbra—its shadow—which was not necessary for a space wedding, or for anything involving a reasonably brief stay in the excessive heat Cetis Gamma gave off.

There were clankings. A door opened. The skipper came in and Cathy smiled at him because she didn’t realize Lon’s fierce apprehension. Four other men followed, all in soiled and untidy space yacht uniforms, then two other men in more ordinary clothing. Their expressions were distinctly uneasy.