The last two weeks before our departure passed in a flash of excitement and often unnecessary commotion. I hardly saw Alice at all during that time.

Firstly, I was in charge of preparing, checking, and loading and finding places aboard the Pegasus for all the cages, snares, ultrasound lures, traps, nets, forcefield generators, and the thousand other things which were needed to catch animals.

Secondly, the medicines, stored foods, films, recording tapes, cameras, dictaphones, microscopes, herbarium papers, note books, rubber boots, calculators and computers, umbrellas for the varius suns, and from the rain, lemonade, rain coats, panama hats, dried ice cream concentrate, jetpacks, and the still million more other things that might prove necessary on the expedition.

Thirdly, in as much as we would, on our outbound run, be stopping in at many isolated scientific bases, stations, and diverse worlds we found ourselves carrying freight and gifts: oranges for some astronomers on Mars, canned herring for some explorers on Arcturus Minor, cherry juice, India ink, and modeling clay for the archaeologists in the 2-BTS system, brocade dressing gowns and electrocardiographs for the inhabitants of the planet Fyxx, a set of walnut trees won by an inhabitant of the planet Samora in the “Do You Know The Sol System” contest, fried quince (fortified with vitamins) for the Labucillians and still many more gifts and packages which were foisted on us in the last moments by the grandmothers, grandfathers, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, children and grand children of those people and extraterrestrials we would be seeing. Toward the last moment our Pegasus began to take on the appearance of Noah’s Ark, a flying flea market, a Harrod’s and Macy’s all rolled into one. Over the last two weeks I must have lost twelve pounds, and the Pegasus’s captain, the famous astronaut Poloskov, must have aged six years. Add to that the Pegasus was not really a large ship, and its crew was really very small.