Part 2

Leyloon stopped and turned to face him. She wore a helpless, puzzled expression.

It was disturbing. Darrel sensed--and the knowledge cut like a knife--that the girl was slipping away from him, sliding inexorably into her past. And in her past, he had no place. None whatever. He was moving to the point in her life where he did not exist for her. The idea was appalling.

She was holding out a note for him to see.

It read, "Night is coming on and I must retire, stranger. This has been an extraordinary day."

Stranger! So he was nothing more than that now! And only yesterday ... or tomorrow ... there had been complete understanding between them. They had been in love then, had told each other so! And now ... stranger!

But there was evidence of a shy, hesitant affection in the girl's face and actions.

Darrel stifled a sudden impulse to swear and smash things. Every minute, every second they were moving toward Leyloon's childhood and her complete ignorance of his existence. It was horrible and it was inevitable. Frustrating. Infuriating! The minutes were precious, priceless, and they clicked by with the ruthless precision of a machine. They were going ... gone, irretrievably.

It was almost noon--noon for both! Here was mutual ground. It was not one time of day for him and another for her ... it was noon for both. They moved toward the moment from opposite directions, Leyloon from afternoon and he from morning. Exactly at noon, when time coincided for them ... he would kiss her.

Smack!

His face stung from the reverse-motion blow. She had slapped him. But he hadn't done anything yet.

Then, he kissed her.

Now, when a slap might be expected, nothing happened. Because now she hadn't been kissed yet. She was watching him with bewitching, innocent eyes, utterly unaware that within a minute she would be kissed--or _had_ been kissed.

She stared at him with a strange look, as though he were mad.

Darrel dug for a pencil and wrote desperately. He had to explain that kiss.

But it was hopeless. Of course it would be. Naturally she would think he was crazy for writing notes explaining he had kissed her when he _hadn't_ kissed her yet.

He looked up, and Leyloon was gone. She was disappearing over the crest of the hill.

Darrel swore freely--eloquently!

* * * * *

The morning of the fifth day--or was it evening?--Darrel riveted the last gravity plate into position in the bulkhead. The ship was ready. He could leave any time. There was a valuable cargo in the hold awaiting delivery to Uranus. So why the hell didn't he leave?

Because Leyloon was standing, obviously confused, on the slope of the hill outside.

They stared at each other a long time. Darrel's forehead wrinkled in a worried frown. Today Leyloon knew even less about him than she had yesterday. He must be a _complete_ stranger to her now. This might easily be the first time she had ever seen him. Probably she had been out on a quiet evening stroll--it was Neptune's evening--and had seen the ship, and stopped to look at it.

Standing on the hill, half-silhouetted against the dusky sky, she seemed wonderfully desirable. So small, fragile and alone.

Making up his mind suddenly, he left the ship and approached the girl. Her eyes never left him. Undoubtedly she was dumbfounded at his backward behavior.

He leaned toward her. A stinging slap creased his cheek. It hurt.

"Don't tell me I'm going to kiss her again!" he thought, prepared to defy that possibility.

He kissed her.

Leyloon's eyes were big and full of fear. He hadn't kissed her yet but she must have been frightened by his menacing attitude. He scrutinized her face. It was thrillingly beautiful. But it showed no comprehension. No recognition. No faintest glimmer of affection. She did not know him.

Cursing all the planets and asteroids in the universe, Darrel swung around and threw himself back into the ship.

He sat with his back against the cold metal hull of the ship smoking Martian cigarettes nervously, lighting a new one from the butt of the one he had just smoked.

She had escaped him. Slipped into the past. He had ceased to exist for her. Five short days ago he had stepped out of his ship and been kissed by Leyloon. Biff! Like that. She had gushed over him. His arrival must have been a departure in her eyes. She had been sad to see him leaving. Heartbroken perhaps.

But now she didn't know him from Adam. He hadn't even entered her life yet. It was all over unless....

Unless he could take her to Earth? No. Impossible! It would be the same farce all over again. Absolutely preposterous!

Maybe not. Why was it _he_ hadn't succumbed to the time forces in which Neptune existed? He _should_ have. Others had. Those lost expeditions, they accounted for the language and civilization here on Neptune.

Darrel lit another cigarette nervously, clumsily.

Maybe it was because of the speed with which he had approached Neptune. He must have ripped through the--through the point of time transition with so great a velocity that neither he nor his ship were gripped by the opposing time flow. If he had come at a lesser rate of speed, the change might have been effected. Even as it was, the ship had almost been gripped.

He threw the cigarette away and paced back and forth in front of the ship.

If he could take Leyloon out there ... take her across the zone, very slowly, a crawling two or three thousand miles per hour ... it might work. Her entire metabolism system might be reversed. She might exist _properly_ in _his_ time.

Blazing comets!

On the other hand, it might kill her. Tear her apart or something. How many members of the old expeditions survived the transition was unknown. The outcome was impossible to foresee.

It might kill her.

Darrel fumbled for another cigarette. And yet, he had to do _something_! She was receding into her past every minute. Time was desperately short.

The sun was setting--or was it rising?--and the night was coming on swiftly. The day was short on Neptune. Little more than half of an Earth day. He crumpled up the empty cigarette pack and threw it to the ground.

Kidnapping!

But it was the only way.

It should be relatively simple. Neptunians were a systematic race. They slept at night. All of them. When night came, all activity ceased. He would be unmolested as he went through the city ... unless the girl raised a commotion.

Darrel rubbed his jaw. It couldn't be avoided.

When the night was black, he walked behind the beam of his torch over the crest of the hill and into the city.

* * * * *

Two hours later he came up to the ship from out of the dark, carrying a limp form across his shoulders. His face was pale. It had wrenched his soul to knock the girl out. He felt like a murderer. Creeping into the house that way in the dead of night, finding the bedroom, the quietly slumbering girl, then ... sock! It was the toughest thing he had ever done.

He strapped Leyloon's unconscious body onto the bunk in the cabin, sealed the airlock, and dropped wearily into the bucket-seat before the maze of manual controls. Beads of sweat oozed from his skin. He wiped them away.

The magnetic space-drive wooshed powerfully at an almost sub-audio level. Darrel glanced apprehensively at the girl. Her beauty and helplessness and the thought of what he might be doing to her, tore at him.

"If I'm wrong, I'll make it up to you in hell!" he swore, and declined the trip-lever beneath his hand.

The dark landscape dropped away rapidly. Within minutes, Neptune was a great mass on the screen, diminishing in size ... diminishing, diminishing.

He wiped his damp forehead and stared at the instrument panel.

If she came out of it with a memory of the five days, she would be in love with him. Maybe enough in love with him to condone his socking and kidnapping her. If that happened, he would give up this fool freight-hauling. It was nothing but pushing buttons anyhow. He would spit in the fleet admiral's eye. Tell him to fly his own ships. Leyloon and he....

But what if she came out of it _without_ a memory of the five days? He was taking her away before they happened, wasn't he? He was kidnapping a Neptunian girl who had, in fact, never set eyes on him! How would he explain _that_?

Yes, how! She would probably hate his guts ... and he couldn't blame her if she did. She would probably demand to be taken back. She....

The sweat glistened on his forehead. If that happened, it would be the end. There would be no point to existence now if....

He glued his eyes to the instruments. They were hours away from Neptune now. Nearing the zone. It was time to slow the ship.

There were vibrations. Clawing, clutching vibrations that began to insinuate themselves into the ship, into every cell and atom within that bubble of metal. Vibrations. They were ghastly.

But they couldn't be doing to him what they were doing to Leyloon. She might be undergoing a complete reverse in time. Every particle of her being constricted, twisted and battled over.

If she lived through it, would she know him? Would she know that....

His hands were slick with sweat. They slipped on the controls. Vibrations thrilled every cell of his body.

Then it stopped.

They were across, into the time-stream of the inner planets. Darrel set the controls with feverish haste for full speed, and switched them over to automatic.

He wanted to look at the girl, but couldn't. The possible consequences of what he had done appalled him. How could he dare such a crazy stunt? What if she hadn't made it? What if she didn't know him? What if....

"Where am I?" The voice was feeble.

Darrel heard it. An exultant grin began to creep up his face. They were the most beautiful words he had ever heard. They were in a logical sensible sequence. He could _understand_ them!

His pulse hammering in his head, he willed himself to turn and see whether....

Leyloon was unbuckling the straps and sitting up. Struggling off the bunk.

Leyloon's face came up. There was a faint, tremulous smile on it. A _smile_.

Darrel whooped! He leaped across the cabin space toward the girl, slipped, and fell ignominiously to the deck.

Leyloon laughed.