pilot, one of the best in her father's fleet. She had sworn at him for his decision, and turned away from his embrace. But on the night of their parting, the night before the dawn ascent towards the speck of light that was Andromeda, she had softened, and cried in his arms. He thought now of that moment, and his small fingers rolled into fists. Adrian, he thought. I must go to her...

The doorman was magnificent and imposing in his braided uniform, but his eyes were cold when he saw Ron. "What do you want, son?"

"I--I have a message for Miss Walder. It's very important."

"Okay, son. You just give your message to me."

"No! I'm supposed to deliver it in person!"

The doorman grunted. "Wait a minute." He put in a call to the penthouse apartment. The idea of a twelve-year-old visitor must have amused the girl. He brought back an invitation for Ron to enter her home.

Ron stepped off the elevator, and his stomach was churning. What would she say when she saw him? Would she believe his story? Would she help him find an answer?

Adrian came to the door herself, and the amusement was evident on her long, smoothly-planed face. Her auburn hair was swept back in Grecian ringlets, and the gown she wore was blindingly white. "Come in, dear," she said, smiling.

The effect of looking up at the girl, now a sort of giantess in his eyes, made Ron dizzy. He swayed against the doorframe, and her cool fingers steadied him.

"You poor boy," she crooned. "Come inside."

She half-carried him to the downy sofa. For a full minute, he was too choked to speak. She offered him a glass of milk, but he asked for water. She brought some to him, and he coughed.

"Now," the girl said, spreading the wide skirt over her knees, "just what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I--"

"Come now." She smiled endearingly, and brushed back the hair from his forehead. "You must have had something on your mind."

"Yes," he said at last, his voice strained. "Yes, Adrian. I--I'm Ron...."

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