She looked at him, a slight wrinkle on her broad, fine forehead. She said, “Again?”

He said impatiently, “Look, Di, I called you to ask for a get together. You’re leaving for that job on Callisto tomorrow. It’s our last chance to be together.

Actually, there’s something that I wanted to ask you about. Something in particular. It might change your mind about Callisto. I don’t know why you’re going, anyway. I’ve been there. It’s a terrible place, Di. There’s no atmosphere. You live under what amounts to a giant inverted plastic fishbowl.”

“I’ve read up on Callisto,” she said in irritation. “I know it’s no paradise. But somebody has to do the work there and I’m a trained secretary. Don, I’m packing. I simply don’t have the time to see you again. I thought that we said our goodbyes six days ago.”

“This is important, Dian.” His voice was urgent.

She tossed the two sweaters she was holding into a chair, or something, off-screen, and faced him, her hands on her hips.

“No it isn’t, Don Mathers. Not to me, at least. We’ve been all over this. Why keep torturing yourself? You’re not ready for marriage, Don. I don’t want to hurt you, but you simply aren’t. Look me up, Don, in a few years.”

“Di! Just a couple of hours this afternoon.” He was desperate.

Dian Keramikou looked him full in the face and said, “Colin Casey finally died of his burns and wounds this morning. The President has asked for five minutes of silence at two o’clock. Don, I plan to spend that time here alone in my apartment, possibly crying a few tears for a man who died for me and the rest of the human race under such extreme conditions of gallantry that he was awarded the highest honor of which man has ever conceived. I wouldn’t want to spend that five minutes while on a date with another member of my race’s armed forces who had deserted his post of duty.”