“That doesn’t make any difference and you know it.”

“You love me, Larry, I know that too.”

He shook his head. “No… I don’t. Not anymore.”

Her face was lost in shadow, but her voice smiled. “Larry—remember when we were just six or seven and we snuck into the free-fall playroom… you and Dan and me? And we were playing tag, and you got racing so fast that you flew smack into a wall—”

“It was the ceiling,” he said.

“You hurt your shoulder, but you kept telling us it wasn’t hurt. But I could see your pain, Larry. I could see it.”

“Okay, so I broke my shoulder.”

Suddenly she was beside him, kneeling alongside the bunk. “So don’t say you don’t love me, Larry Belsen. I know you do.”

“It’s no use,” he said, his voice as cracked and miserable as he felt inside. “The computer selection was final. Not even the Council can revoke it. You can’t have people just flying off and marrying anybody they feel like marrying! That’s what happened to old Earth. The genetics went from bad to worse. We’ve got to live by the rules, Val… there’s no other way.”

“And the rules say I have to marry Dan.”

“He loves you, Val.”

“And you don’t?”

He couldn’t answer. Instead, he stared down at her for an infinite moment, then pulled her up to him and kissed her. She felt soft and good and loving. She clung to him hard, warmly. Everything else left his mind and he thought of nothing but her.

When he finally surfaced for air, she asked sleepily, “You don’t have a duty shift, do you?”

Shaking his head, “No. Excused from duty until after the funeral services.”

“Oh.”

He sat there on the bunk, loving her and hating himself. This is all wrong. What I’m doing…

“Larry?”

“What is it?”

“If the Council would allow it, would you want to marry me?”

“Don’t make it worse than it is, Valery.”