9

   John Lesbee III, acting captain, sat in the great captain's chair, which he had rigged up on the bridge, and pondered the problem of the old people.
   There were too many of them. They ate too much. They required constant attention. It was ridiculous having seventy-nine people aboard who were over a hundred years old.
   On the other hand, some of those old scoundrels knew more about science and interstellar navigation than all the younger people put together. And they were aware of it, too, the cunning, senile wretches. Which ones could be killed without danger of destroying valuable knowledge? He began to write down names, mostly of women and non-officers among the men. When it was finished he stared down at it thoughtfully, and mentally selected the first five victims. Then he pressed a button beside his chair.
   Presently, a heavily built young man climbed up the steps from below. 'Yeah,' he said, 'what is it?'
   Lesbee III gazed at the other with carefully concealed distaste. There was a coarseness about Atkins that offended his sensibilities, and in a curious fashion it seemed to him that he could never like the man who had killed his father, John Lesbee II, even though he himself had ordered the killing.
   Lesbee sighed. Life was a constant adaptation to the reality of inorganic and organic matter that made up one's environment. In order to get a man properly murdered, you had to have a capable murderer. From a very early age he had realized that his nonentity of a father would have to be eliminated. Accordingly, he had cultivated Atkins. The man must be kept in his place, of course.
   'Atkins,' said Lesbee with a weary wave of one hand, 'I have some names here for you. Be careful. The deaths must appear natural, or I shall disown you as an inefficient fool.'
   The big man grunted. He was a grandson of one of the original workers in the gardens, and it had caused quite a stir when he had been relieved of his duties as a gardener some years before.
   The resentment died quickly when the officer's son who protested the loudest was put to work in Atkins' place. Lesbee III had thought out things like that long before he acted against his father. His plan was to kill Atkins as soon as the man had served his purpose.
   With an aloof air, he gave the first five names, gave them verbally; then, as Atkins withdrew down the steps, he turned his attention to the screen. He pressed another button, and presently the graying son of the old first officer climbed up to the bridge and came over to him, slowly.
   'What is it – Captain?'
   Lesbee hesitated. He was not sure he liked the slight pause before the use of his title. He was not sure he liked Carson. He sighed. Life was a problem of so many adjustments, with everybody making a fetish of hoarding what knowledge they had. One had to put up with so much, and that was strange because he could remember in his own youth that people then had been much more open-handed and open-hearted.
   Why, the first generation had taught their children everything they knew – so it was said.
   'Uh, Mr. Carson, what are the latest reports on Sirius?'
   Carson brightened. 'We are now within ten thousand million miles. The ship has been swung around for deceleration purposes, but it will be a week yet before the telescopes will be able to determine definitely the size of the planets or whether they have atmospheres.'
   'Any, uh, radiation activity?'
   Mr. Carson started to shake his head. He stopped. A curious expression came into his eyes. Lesbee twisted to follow his gaze.
   Slowly, he stiffened.
   The forward half of the plastiglass bridge was twinkling with a scattering of sparks. Even as Lesbee stared, they grew more numerous.
   In an hour the gas storm had closed in around them.
   Sirius A at five hundred million miles looked about the size of the sun as seen from Earth. Lesbee III did not make the comparison from his own experience. There were motion-picture views that provided a fairly exact standard for judgment. What was radically different was the planetary arrangement.
   There were two planets between Sirius A and its companion sun. The one nearest B was very close to its star and had a correspondingly high speed. The other one, which was four hundred and seventy million miles from A, moved more sedately around its large, brilliant sun.
   It was this nearest planet that offered their only hope. With a diameter of seventeen thousand miles, it was less than half the size of the second planet, and about one hundredth the size of the planets that swung weightily beyond the erratic orbit of Sirius B. Through the clouds of Sirius A-1, cities were visible.
   Lesbee III studied the reports, and looked at the scene below, depressed but determined. It was clear that the universe had not been designed for the comfort and convenience of man. But he must be careful not to accept the implied defeat. Reluctantly, he made his way to the cabin where, for long now, he had isolated his aged grandfather.
   He found his grandfather sitting in a chair, watching a small screen view of the planet that swung nearer and nearer. Possession of the screen was one of the many small courtesies which the younger man extended to the other, but so far it had produced no friendliness. His grandfather did not look up as he entered. Lesbee hesitated, then walked over and settled himself in a chair facing the old man.
   He waited. It was hard when people misunderstood one's purposes. He had once thought his grandfather would understand even if no one else did, that John Lesbee III had the interests of the trip at heart.
   Perhaps it was too much to expect, though. Human beings were always willing to be objective – about other human beings; and so an old man resented the method by which he had been retired. Some day, no doubt, he, Lesbee III, would be retired by Lesbee IV, now ten years old. It seemed to the young man, in a sudden burst of self-pity, that when the time came, he would accept the situation gracefully – provided it didn't happen too soon.
   His annoyance passed. He launched his bombshell. 'Grandfather, I have come to ask your permission to announce that you will come out of retirement during the whole period in which we are in the vicinity of Sirius, and that during that period you will direct the activities of the ship.'
   The long, thin body moved, but that was all. Lesbee suppressed a smile. It seemed to him that his grandfather's mind must be working furiously. He pressed his purpose, as persuasively as possible: 'Throughout your life, sir, you have had but one purpose: To ensure that the voyage of the Hope of Man is completed. I know what your feeling is. After all, I'm the person who actually decided to accept the ship as a permanent home.' He shrugged. 'Before this, people kept wanting to go home. I've stopped all that and I've urged everyone to accept life here and now. People used to be worried about the fact that there was one more girl in the third generation than there were men. I solved that problem very simply. I took a second wife. It was shocking for a while, but now no" one gives it a thought.' He leaned back easily. 'A voyage like this is something special. We're a little, private world, and we have to make private adjustments to changing conditions. I was hoping to have your approval of all this.'
   He paused, and waited. Still the old man said nothing. Lesbee smothered his irritation with an affable smile. 'You might be interested, sir, in the suggestion I have to make for our stay in the Sirius system. Naturally, it is already pretty certain that we cannot land here. The atmosphere below is saturated with sulfur. Just what that would do to our ship, I don't know. But one thing is certain. We've got to find out right here where we go next.'
   It seemed to Lesbee that he had his audience interested now. The old man was stroking his scraggly white beard, his lips were pursed.
   But again it was Lesbee who had to break the silence: 'I have studied the reports of the methods used in trying to establish communication with the Centaurians. The methods all seem too timid, considered in retrospect. There was no bold determination on your part to force attention from them, and although you spent months longer than your original intention, cruising around, your lack of initiative made that merely a waste of time. Certainly the nature of the atmosphere, which you discovered there, entitled you to believe that it was a chlorine-breathing, interstellar civilization somewhat superior to that of Earth. Now, here seems to be a sulfur-breathing world.'
   He leaned forward with a sudden intensity. 'We must make ourselves so obnoxious to the inhabitants of this planet of Sirius A that they will give us all the information we want. Are you interested?'
   The old man stirred. Slowly he straightened his long body. His eyes narrowed to slits of blue. 'Just what have you got in mind,' he asked, 'besides murder?'

10

   The atomic bomb that was fired into the atmosphere of Sirius A-l, attained a velocity of thirty miles a minute. And so, in spite of the violently exploding energy flares that soared up to meet it, it penetrated to within forty miles of the planet's dimly visible surface before it was finally exploded by a direct hit.
   In one hour, when the entire scene was still concealed by an impenetrable cloud, they had their first reaction. A transparent, glittering shell, not more than eight feet in diameter, was picked up on the scanners. There was something inside it, but whatever it was refused to resolve into focus.
   It came nearer and nearer, and still the thing inside would not show clearly to the straining eyes.
   Lesbee III stood on the bridge beside the chair in which his grandfather sat. And the sweat broke out on his brow. When the shell was two hundred yards distant, he said: 'Do you think we ought to let it come any nearer?'
   The old man's glance was contemptuous. 'Our screens are up, aren't they? If it's a bomb, it can't touch us.'
   Lesbee III was silent. He did not share the old man's confidence that Earth's science was equal to anything that might happen in space. He was prepared to admit that he knew very little about Earth's science, but still – that shell.
   'It seems to have stopped, sir.' That was Carson, pointedly addressing the aged captain, ignoring the acting captain.
   The words relieved Lesbee III, but the first officer's action saddened him. What kind of suicidal impulse made Carson think that the temporary presence of the hundred-year-old retired captain was a good reason for insulting the man who would be commander for thirty years more at least?
   He forgot that, for the thing in the shell, whatever it was, was watching them intently. Lesbee III felt a hideous thrill. He said jumpily: 'Somebody get us a clear picture of it.'
   The screen blurred, then cleared, but the object in the shell looked as confusing as ever. After a moment longer it moved in an unhuman fashion. Instantly the shell began to approach the spaceship again with a disturbingly steady forward movement. Within seconds, it was less than a hundred yards away, and coming nearer.
   'He'll never get through the defenses!' Lesbee III said doubtfully.
   He tensely watched the shell. At twenty-five yards it was already through the outer defenses not only of the ship but of Lesbee's mind. He couldn't see it. That was the damnable, mind-destroying part. His eyes kept twisting, as if his brain could not accept the image. The sensation was fantastic. His courage slipped from him like a rotted rag. He made a dive for the stairway and was vaguely surprised to find Carson there ahead of him. He felt the burly Browne crowding his heels.
   Lesbee III's final memory of the bridge was of the ancient Captain Lesbee sitting stiffly in the great captain's chair – and the alien shell only a few feet from the outer hull.
   In the corridor below, he recovered sufficiently to wave his officers to an elevator. He took them down to the alternative control room. They hastily switched on the viewplates that connected with the bridge. The screen flickered with streamers of light but no picture took form. And a steady roaring sound came from the speakers.
   It was a dismaying situation; desperately, Lesbee III said, 'What could affect our eyes, twist them? Does anyone know of a phenomenon of the physics of light that has that effect?'
   It seemed that a number of subvisual lasers could stimulate the visual centers painfully.
   And certain levels of fear within the body could twist the eyes from inside.
   Those were the only suggestions.
   Lesbee III commanded: 'Rig something that will reflect the particular lasers you have in mind.' To Dr. Kaspar, he said, 'What would stimulate fear?'
   'Certain sounds.'
   'There were none.'
   'Brain– level waves on the exact band of terror.'
   'Wel– ll' -doubtfully – 'we were certainly put to flight, but I didn't actually feel fear. I felt confusion.'
   'Some kind of an energy field – I'm speculating wildly!' said the psychologist.
   'Use the technical staff!' Lesbee III ordered him. 'Figure out some kind of interference for all of those possibilities. On the double, everybody!'
   They were still frantically working in the shops, when the viewplate in the alternative control room suddenly cleared. Simultaneously, the roar in the speakers ceased. The first picture that showed was of the bridge itself. Lesbee III could see the old captain still in his chair, but slumped over. There was nothing else visible in his line of sight. Hopefully, Lesbee III tuned to the space scanners. To his relief, he saw that the shell was withdrawing; it was already a quarter of a mile away. It receded rapidly, became a speck against the great, misty planet below.
   Lesbee III did not wait for it to vanish entirely, but raced for the elevator – with Browne and Carson close behind. They found his grandfather still alive, talking nonsense to himself and, it soon developed, stone blind.
   As they carried him down the steps, and then wheeled him to his room, Lesbee listened intently to his muttering. The words that made sense were about the old man's childhood long ago on Earth.
   In the room, Lesbee III grasped the thin, cold hands in his own. 'Captain! Captain!'
   After he had repeated the one word several times, the other's muttering ceased. 'Captain, what happened up there on the bridge?'
   The old man started to speak. Lesbee III strained and heard a few words:
   '... we forgot the eccentric orbit of Canis Major A with its B. We forgot that B is one of the strange suns of the galaxy... so dense, so monstrously dense... it said it's from the planet of B... It said, get away! They won't deal with anyone who tried to bomb them... Get away! Get away...! It attached something to the hull... pictures, it said...'
   Lesbee III had leaped away to the intercom. He shouted orders for astronauts to go outside, remove whatever was attached to the hull, take it off in a lifeboat, and when they had examined it and found it harmless, bring it back to the ship.
   As he turned back to the captain, Lesbee III felt a shock. The face which had momentarily showed some semblance of sanity had changed again. The eyes were all wrong, twisted, crossed, as if they had tried to look at something that they could not focus on. As he watched, more interested now than disturbed, they continued to twist sightlessly.
   Lesbee III tried to get the old man's attention as before by addressing him repeatedly. But this time there was no response. The lined and bearded face retained its abnormal expression.
   A doctor had come. Two assistants undressed the long, scrawny body and laid it in the bed. Lesbee III departed.
   By the dinner hour, the astronauts were back with a weird but harmless package. It contained a transparent, peculiarly-shaped beaker with a colorless liquid inside. When Lesbee III first saw the object, he saw that there was a picture on the inside of the bottle. Eagerly, he picked it up – intending to bring it closer to his eyes – and the picture changed. Another scene took form inside.
   The picture changed with every move. Not once, while he looked at it, did any scene repeat. And in order to see a specific frame for more than a fraction of a second, he finally had to lay it down and sit up close to it. By maneuvering it gently with his fingers every few seconds, he was able at last to view the strange world of the inhabitants of Sirius A-l, who, apparently, had originally come from the mysterious planet of B.
   At first there were only scenes: landscapes and oceans. What the liquid in the oceans was, was not obvious; the water was tinted yellow. But the initial scenes showed a turbulent liquid that had the look of being storm tossed.
   One scene after another showed a rapid succession of huge waves.
   When the frames finally began to show land, the scene was of rugged, mountainous country that was covered with a grayish-yellow growth; a kind of moss, it seemed to the intent Lesbee III. Here and there, the growth piled up into uneven shapes, some of which were small and others of which were extremely tall. Because of the jagged appearance, the growths were beautiful – much as a design in gold and silver is beautiful.
   There were other growths, but they were a tiny proportion of the whole: a touch of red, or green, a different type of foliage; that was all. The yellow-gray 'moss' and the silver-gold 'trees' dominated equally the mountain peaks and plains.
   Abruptly, there was a city scene.
   Everywhere, in that first look, he saw canals filled with what seemed to be water. Enthralled, Lesbee III remembered motion pictures he had seen of the far-distant Earth city of Venice, Italy. This seemed similar.
   Then he saw that the 'canals' were on top of the buildings and that there were different levels of them. The high-rise buildings extended for miles like a continuous cliff, uniform in height. Between the two abutments, made up of the front and back of the buildings, flowed two streams of the yellow-tinted 'water'... in opposite directions.
   Each of the three levels of lower-rise buildings also had its two streams. The entire array of buildings periodically crisscrossed with others of their own type, which came in upon them at right angles.
   ...Square on square mile of each, and thousands of canals... no streets visible anywhere; simply the solid masses of buildings presenting four roof levels, and every roof with water on it.
   In the water were dark shapes – that moved. He couldn't see them.
   The picture frames that showed these creatures close up had a light effect that twisted Lesbee III's eyes.
   He was amazed, interested, intensely disappointed. 'I'll be damned,' he said. 'They don't want us to see what they look like.'
   Physicist Plauck, peering over Lesbee's shoulder, said, 'On such a huge planet, it follows that the muscles of a life form would require a buoyant liquid to support the body. If their planet of origin is B-l – which is larger – then, like Earthman on Mars, what we're seeing is the intelligent life form of this system in an environment where its motion is actually freer than on its home planet. Yet they still need additional support. It suggests a very dense physical structure, hard to handle.'
   Lesbee III, whose eyes were beginning to hurt, stood up. 'Take this bottle,' he said, 'and film the pictures inside it. We'll have a general showing for everybody later.'
   He added, 'After you've made the film, see if you can't figure out their method of putting pictures into bottles. They must know a lot more about the physics and chemistry of liquids than we do.'
   With that, he headed back to his grandfather's room. He found the old man in a coma.
   Captain John Lesbee, first commander of the Hope of Man, died in the sleep hour that same sidereal day, seventy-seven years, four months, and nine days out from Earth, at the honorable age of one hundred and thirty-one years.
   Within six months, no man or woman of his generation remained alive.
   It was then that Lesbee III made a major error. He attempted to carry out his purpose of getting rid of a no-longer-needed Atkins.
   The death of Lesbee III at the hands of Atkins – who was immediately executed despite his plea of self-defense – created a new crisis aboard the Hope of Man.
   John Lesbee IV was only ten years old and, though it was urged by Browne that he be made captain at once, First Officer Carson thought otherwise. 'It is true,' he said sanctimoniously, 'that he will be grown up by the time we reach Procyon, but in the meantime we will establish a captain's council to command for him.'
   In this he was supported by Second Officer Luthers. And several weeks went by before Browne discovered the two wives of Lesbee III were now living with Carson and Luthers.
   'You old goats!' he said, at the next meeting of the captain's council. 'I demand an immediate election. And if you don't agree right now, I'm going to the scientists, and to the crew.'
   He stood up, and towered over the smaller men. The older men shrank back, and then Carson tried to draw a blaster from an inside pocket. When he was in a hurry, Browne did not know his own strength. He grabbed the two men, and bumped their heads together. The power of that bump was too much for human bone and flesh, particularly since Browne's rage did not permit him to stop immediately.
   The developing limpness of the two bodies in his grasp finally brought him out of his passion. When full realization penetrated, he called the scientists into session, and it was then decided to hold an election.
   It required a while to make the people understand what was wanted, but finally an executive council was duly elected by secret ballot. And this council recognized the right of John Lesbee IV to succeed his father as captain, when he reached maturity. In the meantime the council offered the temporary captaincy to Browne, for a term of one year.
   By the following year, two of the council members had thought over the situation, and offered themselves as candidates for the captaincy. Browne was re-elected.
   The former third officer, now Acting Captain Browne, was vaguely annoyed at the opposition that had developed to him,
   'Why,' he said in a hurt tone, to his eldest son, 'they don't know anything about the duties of an officer.'
   He began to train his two sons in the details of the work. 'You might as well know something about it,' he said. 'Somebody's got to.'
   For a while his conscience bothered him, and then he began to hear that there was a campaign of vilification being carried on against him. 'Things never used to be like this,' he complained to the council. 'When donkeys like young Kesser and that middle-aged goat Plauck can call you a fool behind your back, there's something wrong. I think maybe next year you fellows had better appoint me captain until Lesbee is twenty-five years old, and end that kind of nonsense. We can't take the chance of some nut who doesn't understand how this ship works, taking control.'
   Councillor Plauck commented dryly that a knowledge of physics was a handy adjunct to any commander in a space cluttered with dangerous energies such as the cosmic rays. Browne's 'recommendation,' as it was called, was refused. But he was re-appointed to the captaincy for another year.
   It was shortly after this that one of the councillors, passing through the hydroponic gardens, saw a familiar face among the workers. He reported to the council, and an emergency meeting was called. Browne was suave. 'Why shouldn't young Lesbee limber up his muscles a little? This idea of a separate hierarchy is all wrong. In my opinion, all the young people should work in the gardens for a time every year. I'm going to have that put to a vote. I'll bet the regular garden workers would just love to have you big shots come around and tell them that there are people aboard this ship who are too good to do manual labor.'
   Later, when he was asked about the progress of young Lesbee in his officer training, Browne shook his head, with due gravity. 'Frankly, gentlemen, his progress is poor. I have him come up to the bridge every day after he's through at the gardens. And he just doesn't take any interest. I'm coming to the conclusion, reluctantly, that he just isn't very bright. He just can't learn well.'
   It was clear to some of the council members at least, that Captain Browne was learning very 'well' indeed.

11

   John Lesbee IV did not pause in his picking of the ripened fruit. The nearest wall of the hydroponic gardens was two hundred feet away, but his caution was boundless. He listened with a deliberate casualness as the girl spoke to him: 'Mother says the sparks started two days ago. So we must be near Procyon.'
   Lesbee IV said nothing. He accepted the old explanation for the spark phenomenon, that they occurred wherever there were two or more suns to draw huge numbers of high-energy particles from each other's magnetic fields and accelerate them far out into interstellar space.
   Although his pretense at leadership was wearing thin, he had 'policies,' one of which was that he did not discuss technical matters with his followers. He had given the girl her instructions the 'night' before. It was now up to her to make a report.
   His fingers continued their automatic movements as she went on: 'The others think you should run in this election. Browne is putting his older son up for the council. If we can elect you in his place-' She stopped; then: 'Remember, you're now twenty-nine years old. And the council still has paid no attention to your rights. You'll have to fight for them.'
   Lesbee IV made no answer. He felt a weariness at these stupid people who were always urging him to come out into the open. Didn't they realize the danger? And besides, it was important to wait till they had been to Procyon. Then, with Earth as the next destination, the scoundrels who had cheated him out of his rights would begin to think twice.
   'If you don't act,' said the girl anxiously, 'the men are going to take things into their own hands. They're tired – we're all tired – of doing all the hard work, and getting the poorest food. Gourdy says' – she paused – 'we'll take the ship.'
   She sounded awed. And for the first time Lesbee made a dismissing motion that had nothing to do with fruit picking. 'Aaaaa!' he said, and brought his hand down, contemptuously. These ignorant fools, he thought. They didn't know what they were talking about.
   Take the ship indeed – a bunch of working people, who had never even seen space, except on a screen.
   'You'd better hurry!' the girl said. 'You'd better hurry and make up your mind -'
   The vague reports of the underground resurrection that was developing failed to disturb Captain Browne. 'Those dirty beggars,' he said to Lieutenant George Browne, his younger son and chief officer of the ship, 'haven't enough brains to steal my hat. Besides, just wait until they find out what my plans are when we get into the Procyon system. That'll make them think twice.'
   The younger Browne said nothing. He considered his father a fool, and it had already struck him that it would be a long, long time before the burly captain would start to decline seriously. At a hundred and four, the commander looked good for another twenty years.
   It was a long time to wait for the captaincy. He'd be an old man himself before it happened. The subject was one that he had already discussed with his elder brother, who was due to run for the council at the elections next month.
   Perhaps he should also let the underground group become aware of the tenor of his thoughts. A few vague promises -
   Procyon A, with six times the luminosity of Sol, swam in the darkness ahead. A yellow-white sun, it loomed larger and larger, brighter and brighter. In the blackness, billions of miles to one side, Procyon B was a pale husk of a sun, clearly visible only in the telescopes.
   Surprisingly, Procyon boasted more planets than had the brilliant, the massively bright Sirius. Twenty-five huge worlds revealed themselves in the telescopes. The ship investigated the two, with diameters of twenty-five thousand miles, found both were inhabited) and both had predominantly chlorine atmospheres.
   'These other fellows had good ideas,' said Captain Browne, 'but they never gave these alien civilizations credit for goodwill. The thing we've got to remember is, not once have the inhabitants of these systems made any attempt to harm us. You may say, what about old Captain Lesbee? Nonsense, I say. He looked at something that wasn't for human eyes, it wrecked his brain, and he died. The important thing is, that thing in the shell that looked at him had the ship completely at its mercy, and it made no effort to do damage.
   'So!' The big captain looked around the council room. 'Where does that leave us? In the best position we've ever been in. Old man Lesbee didn't dare to force issues at Centaurus because he was dealing with the unknown. At Sirius we got scared and beat it because the unknown showed itself to be absolutely and completely unhuman. But now we know. There seems to be an interstellar civilization here, and it can tell us what we want to know. What do we want to know? Why, which stars have Earth-sized planets with oxygen atmospheres.
   'They don't care if we find them. Why should they? Oxygen planets are forever beyond their reach, just as sulfur and chlorine planets are beyond ours.
   'All right then, let's tell them what we want to know. How?' He grinned triumphantly at his audience. 'Just leave it to me,' he said. 'Just leave it to me. The first of their ships we can get near will find out.'
   Actually, it was the fourth ship that found out. The first three ignored the Hope of Man. The fourth one came to a full stop in the space of a score of miles. It returned to within a hundred yards of the Earth ship, and remained quiet throughout the whole of the show that Browne put on.
   The mechanism he used was simple enough. He rigged a huge motion-picture screen inside one of the lifeboats, then sent the lifeboat outside. The projector was mounted inside the bridge, and the series of pictures that followed showed the Hope of Man leaving Earth, arriving first at Alpha Centauri, then at Sirius and the discovery that the inhabited planets were based on chlorine and sulfur atmospheres respectively.
   This was shown by the simple method of projecting beside the planets pictures of the atomic structures of chlorine and sulfur. Earth was pictured with oxygen and nitrogen, although it was assumed that these beings would understand that it was the oxygen that made life possible.
   Then began the most important phase of the weird showing. A star map was flashed on to the screen. It pictured sixty-odd stars within twenty light-years of Sol. Onto this scene was imposed a triumvirate of atomic structures – chlorine, oxygen, sulfur. The trio was jerked in front of one sun, held for a moment, then moved on to another.
   'Let's see,' said Browne, 'how quickly they catch on that we don't know what kind of atmosphere the planets on those stars have.'
   They caught on as the camera was moving its three-headed question mark from the sixth to the seventh star. They acted by blotting out the moving trio. Onto the stationary map they imposed a solid rank of atomic structures, one beside each star.
   Browne counted four that were shown as having oxygen atmospheres. As he watched, another star map was synchronized with the Earth one. It showed thousands of suns, and beside each one was the revealing atomic symbol that indicated the nature of the atmospheres of the habitable planets.
   He saw that the alien ship was moving away; its image on the screen swiftly grew smaller.
   'Get the lifeboat in!' Browne commanded. 'I guess we'd better get started, too. I think I'll recommend that we go to Alta. That's the nearest.'
   Later, as he reported to the council, there was an almost fatuous smile on his large face. He was proud of himself. His plan had worked, and so an Earth-born vessel had a film record of scores, perhaps hundreds, of planets that might be colonized by human beings.
   The feeling of success suffused him, as he let his gaze move from face to face. He wondered if these councillors were thinking what they should: how right they had been to elect him captain at their annual meetings. Perhaps, they would now see the wisdom of dispensing with elections altogether. The election system was really very dangerous and was against the rules by which vessels of the armed forces were administered. The matter should be settled so that there would be no confusion if anything ever happened to him.
   It wasn't – he told himself – that he felt old. But he computed that it would take thirty years to reach Alta, and it might well be that he would not survive another three decades. For strictly emotional reasons, he wanted the right to name his successor. He desired the captaincy to go to his second son.
   As he had that thought, his moving gaze touched the doorknob across the room. He saw it turn; he had a peculiar, lightning intuition -
   And he snatched his blaster...
   The promptness of his reaction protected the ship from the hands of the rebels but did not save his own life. Later, when the younger Browne led a group of armed technicians and scientists to the aid of the council, they found all but one member dead and that one seriously injured. Captain Browne and his eldest son were both victims of the rebellion. Plauck and Kesser were hardly recognizable, but they had apparently had time to draw their weapons and to fire at the rebel group led by Gourdy. Lesbee IV, it developed, had refused to participate.
   Of the more than twenty young men who had aided Gourdy, seventeen were dead. A trail of blood led along the corridor, first to two severely wounded men, and then to a storeroom where Gourdy had barricaded himself.
   Since he would not surrender, they used their greater knowledge of the ship against him. A needle gun was silently pushed through one wall from a secret passageway. He never knew what killed him.
   The new Captain Browne, being over seventy years old himself, thoughtfully had the injured councillor carried to the captain's bed. Somewhere, late in the sleep period, the acting captain considered the problem presented by one living survivor of a group of electors and he shook his head, finally and with decision.
   'If he lives,' he thought, 'the whole election system may be rehabilitated and that is absolutely ridiculous.'
   Presently, he called his son on the intercom. The two men -the son was forty-five years of age at this time – agreed that the father's judgment was correct. At the older man's suggestion, the younger Browne returned to his own room.
   But he was not surprised to hear his father report at the end of the sleep period that the wounded councillor was dead.
   And that there was no one left aboard entitled to demand an election.

12

   One hundred and nine years after leaving Earth, the spaceship, Hope of Man, went into orbit around Alta III, the only inhabited and habitable planet they had found in the system.
   The following 'morning,' Captain Browne informed the shipload of fourth– and fifth-generation colonists that a manned lifeboat would be sent to the planet's surface.
   'Every member of the crew must consider himself expendable,' he said earnestly. 'This is the day that our great-grandparents, our forefathers, who boldly set out for the new space frontier so long ago, looked forward to with unfaltering courage. We must not fail them.'
   He concluded his announcement over the speaker system of the big ship by saying that the names of the crew members of the lifeboat would be given out within the hour, 'And I know that every real man aboard will want to see his name there.'
   John Lesbee, the fifth of his line aboard, had a sinking sensation as he heard those words – and he was not mistaken in his sudden premonition.
   Even as he tried to decide if he should give the signal for a desperate act of rebellion, Captain Browne made the expected announcement.
   The commander said, 'And I know you will all join him in his moment of pride and courage when I tell you that John Lesbee will lead the crew that carries the hopes of man in this remote area of space. And now the others -'
   He thereupon named seven of the nine persons with whom Lesbee had been conspiring to seize control of the ship.
   Since the lifeboat would only hold eight persons, Lesbee recognized that Browne was dispatching as many of his enemies as he could. He listened with developing dismay, as the commander ordered all persons on the ship to come to the recreation room. 'Here I request that the crew of the lifeboat join me and the other officers. Their instructions are to surrender themselves to any craft which seeks to intercept them. Their scanners will relay all observed events to us here, and enable us to determine the level of scientific attainment of the dominant race on the planet below.'
   Lesbee hurried to his room on the technicians' deck, hoping that perhaps Tellier or Cantlin would seek him out there. He felt himself in need of a council of war, however brief. He waited five minutes, but not one member of the conspiratorial group showed.
   Nonetheless, he had time to grow calm. Peculiarly, it was the smell of the ship that soothed him most. From the earliest days of his life, the odor of ozone and the scent of metal at high temperature had been perpetual companions. At the moment, with the ship in orbit, there was a letting up of stress. The smell was of old energies rather than new. But the effect was similar.
   He sat in the chair he used for reading, eyes closed, breathing in that complex of odors, product of so many titanic energies. He felt the fear leave his mind and body. He grew brave again, and strong.
   Lesbee recognized that his plan to seize power had involved risks. Worse, no one would question Browne's choice of him as the leader of the mission. 'I am,' thought Lesbee, 'probably the most highly trained technician ever to be on this ship.' Browne III had taken him when he was ten, and started him on the long grind of learning that led him to master, one after the other, the skills of the various technical departments. And Browne IV had continued his training.
   He was taught how to repair control systems. He gradually came to understand the interrelated cybernetic functions. Long ago, the colossal cobweb of electronic circuitry behind the many panels had become almost an extension of his own nervous system.
   He never did find time to learn the basic theory of the ship's main drive. This information was contained in a course of study to which Browne had provided access, and so a little knowledge had come through to him and stayed with him. But in these advanced realms, he actually knew less than his father.
   His father had made numerous attempts to pass his knowledge on to his son. But it was as hard to teach complexities to a tired and sleepy boy as it had been for the older man to learn those complexities himself under similar circumstances. Lesbee even felt slightly relieved when his parent died. It took the pressure off him. Since then, however, he had come to realize that the Browne family, by forcing a lesser skill on the descendant of the original commander of the ship, had won their greatest victory.
   As he finally headed for the recreation room, Lesbee found himself wondering: Had the Brownes trained him with the intention of preparing him for such a mission as this?
   His eyes widened. If that were true, then his own conspiracy was merely an excuse. The decision to kill him might actually have been made more than a decade ago, and light-years away...
   As the lifeboat rocketed toward Alta III, Lesbee and Tellier sat in the twin control chairs and watched on the forward screen the vast, misty atmosphere of the planet. Dr. Tellier had never understood why spaceships could not attain even a quarter of the speed of light. His records showed that he had hoped to reach velocities greater than light, but his death had occurred too soon for him to train his son to carry on after him. No one since had had the necessary knowledge to continue his work.
   It was vaguely believed by the scientists who succeeded Dr. Tellier that the ship had run into one of the paradoxes implicit in the Lorentz-Fitzgerald Contraction Theory.
   Whatever the explanation, it was never solved.
   Watching Tellier, Lesbee wondered if his companion and best friend felt as empty inside as he did. Incredibly, this was the first time he – or anyone – had been outside the big ship. 'We're actually heading down,' he thought, 'to one of those great masses of land and water, a planet.'
   As he watched, fascinated, the massive ball grew visibly bigger.
   They came in at a slant, a long, swift, angling approach, ready to jet away if any of the natural radiation belts proved too much for their defense systems. But as each stage of radiation registered in turn, the dials showed that the lifeboat machinery made the proper responses automatically.
   The silence was shattered suddenly by an alarm bell.
   Simultaneously, one of the screens focused on a point of rapidly moving light far below. The light darted toward them.
   A missile!
   Lesbee caught his breath.
   But the shining point of light veered off, turned completely around, took up position several miles away, and began to fall with them.
   His first thought was: 'They'll never let us land,' and he experienced intense disappointment.
   Another signal sounded from the control board.
   'They're probing us,' said Tellier, tensely.
   An instant after the words were uttered, the lifeboat seemed to shudder and to stiffen under them. It was the unmistakable feel of a tractor beam, probing from the other craft. Its field clutched the lifeboat, drew it, held it.
   The science of the Alta III inhabitants was already proving itself formidable.
   Underneath him, the lifeboat continued its movement.
   The entire crew gathered around and watched as the point of brightness came closer, resolved into an object, which rapidly grew larger. It loomed up close, bigger than they.
   There was a metallic bump. The lifeboat shuddered from stem to stern.
   Even before the vibrations ceased, Tellier said, 'Notice they put our airlock against theirs.'
   Behind Lesbee, his companions began that peculiar joking of the threatened. It was a coarse comedy, but suddenly it had enough actual humor to break through his fear. Involuntarily, he found himself laughing.
   Then, momentarily free of anxiety, aware that Browne was watching and that there was no escape, he said, 'Open the airlock! Let the aliens capture us as ordered.'

13

   A few minutes after the outer airlock was opened, the airlock of the alien ship also folded back. Rubberized devices rolled out and contacted the Earth lifeboat, sealing off both entrances from the vacuum of space.
   Air hissed into the interlocking passageway between the two craft. In the alien craft's lock, an inner door opened.
   Again Lesbee held his breath.
   There was a movement in the passageway. A creature ambled into view. The being came forward with complete assurance, and pounded on the hull with something he held at the end of one of his four leathery arms.
   The creature had four legs and four arms, and a long, thin body held straight up. It had almost no neck, yet the many skin folds between the head and the body indicated great flexibility was possible.
   Even as Lesbee noted the details of its appearance, the being turned its head slightly, and its two large expressionless eyes gazed straight at the hidden wall scanner that was photographing the scene, and therefore straight into Lesbee's eyes.
   Lesbee blinked at the creature, then tore his gaze away, swallowed hard, and nodded at Tellier. 'Open up!' he commanded.
   The moment the inner door of the Earth lifeboat opened, six more of the four-legged beings appeared, one after another, in the passageway, and walked forward in the same confident way as had the first.
   All seven creatures entered the open door of the lifeboat.
   As they entered, their thoughts came instantly into Lesbee's mind...
   As Dzing and his boarding party trotted from the small Karn ship through the connecting airlock, his chief officer thought a message to him.
   'Air pressure and oxygen content are within a tiny percentage of what exists at ground level on Karn. They can certainly live on our planet.'
   Dzing moved forward into the Earth ship, and realized that he was in the craft's control chamber. Then, for the first time, he saw the men. He and his crew ceased their forward motion, and the two groups of beings – the human and the Karn -gazed at each other.
   The appearance of the two-legged beings did not surprise Dzing. Pulse viewers had, earlier, penetrated the metal walls of the lifeboat and had accurately photographed the shapes and dimensions of those aboard.
   His first instruction to his crew was designed to test whether the strangers were, in fact, surrendering. He commanded: 'Convey to the prisoners that we require them, as a precaution, to remove their clothing.'
   ...Until that direction was given, Lesbee was still uncertain as to whether or not these beings could receive human thoughts as he was receiving theirs. From the first moment, the aliens had conducted their mental conversations as if they were unaware of the thoughts of the human beings. Now as he watched, the Karn came forward. One tugged suggestively at his clothing. And there was no doubt.
   The mental telepathy was a one-way flow only – from tie Karn to the humans.
   He was already savoring the implications of that as he hastily undressed... It was absolutely vital that Browne should not find out about this.
   Lesbee removed all his clothes; then, before putting them down, took out his notebook and pen. Standing there naked, he wrote hurriedly:
   'Don't let on that we can read the minds of these beings.'
   He handed the notebook around, and he felt easier as each of the men read it, and nodded at him silently.
   Dzing communicated telepathically with someone on the ground. 'These strangers,' he reported, 'clearly acted under command to surrender. The problem is, how can we now let them overcome us, without arousing their suspicion that this is what we want them to do?'
   Lesbee did not receive the answer directly. But he picked it up from Dzing's mind: 'Start tearing the lifeboat apart. See if that brings a reaction.'
   The members of the Karn boarding party went to work at once. Off came the control panels. The floor plates were melted and ripped up. Soon instruments, wiring, controls were exposed for examination.
   Browne must have watched the destruction; for now, before the Karn could start wrecking the automatic machinery, his voice commanded:
   'Watch out, you men! I'm going to shut your airlock and cause your boat to make a sharp right turn in exactly twenty seconds.'
   For Lesbee and Tellier, that simply meant sitting down in their chairs and turning them so that the acceleration pressure would press them against the backs. The other men sank to the ripped-up floor, and braced themselves.
   Underneath Dzing, the ship swerved. The turn began slowly, but he permitted it to propel him over to one wall of the control room. There, he grabbed with his numerous hands at some handholds that had suddenly moved out from the smooth metal. By the time the turn grew sharper, he had his four short legs braced, and he took the rest of the wide swing around with every part of his long, sleek body taut. His companions did the same. They all pretended to be affected by inertia.
   Presently, the awful pressure eased up, and he was able to estimate that their new direction was almost at right angles to what it had been.
   He had reported what was happening while it was going on. Now, the answer came: 'Keep on destroying. See what they do, and be prepared to succumb to anything that looks like a lethal attack.'
   Lesbee wrote quickly in his notebook: 'Our method of capturing them doesn't have to be subtle. They'll make it easy for us – so we can't lose.'
   Lesbee waited tensely as the notebook was passed around. It was still hard for him to believe that no one else had noticed what he had about this boarding party.
   Tellier added a note of his own: 'It's obvious now that these beings were also instructed to consider themselves expendable.'
   And that settled it for Lesbee. The others hadn't noticed what he had. He sighed with relief at the false analysis, for it gave him that most perfect of all advantages: that which derived from his special education.
   Apparently, he alone knew enough to have analyzed what these creatures were.
   The proof was in the immense clarity of their thoughts. Long ago, on earth, it had been established that man had a faltering telepathic ability, which could be utilized consistently only by electronic amplification outside his brain. The amount of energy needed for the step-up process was enough to burn out brain nerves if applied directly.
   Since the Karn were utilizing it directly, they couldn't be living beings.
   Therefore, Dzing and his fellows 'were an advanced robot type.
   The true inhabitants of Alta III were not risking their own skins at all.
   Far more important to Lesbee, he could see how he might use these marvelous mechanisms to defeat Browne, take over the Hope of Man, and start the long journey back to Earth.

14

   He had been watching the Karn at their work of destruction, while he had these thoughts. Now, he said aloud: 'Hainker, Graves.'
   'Yes?' The two men spoke together.
   'In a few moments I'm going to ask Captain Browne to turn the ship again. When he does, use our specimen gas guns!'
   The men grinned with relief. 'Consider it done,' said Hainker.
   Lesbee ordered the other four crewmen to be ready to use the specimen-holding devices at top speed. To Tellier he said, 'You take charge if anything happens to me.'
   Then he wrote one more message in the notebook: 'These beings will probably continue their mental intercommunication after they are apparently rendered unconscious. Pay no attention, and do not comment on it in any way.'
   He felt a lot better when that statement also had been read by the others, and the notebook was once more in his possession. Quickly, he spoke to the screen:
   'Captain Browne! Make another turn, just enough to pin them.'
   And so they captured Dzing and his crew.
   As he had expected, the Karn continued their telepathic conversation. Dzing reported to his ground contact: 'I think we did that rather well.'
   There must have been an answering message from below, because he went on, 'Yes, Commander. We are now prisoners as per your instructions, and shall await events... The imprisoning method? Each of us is pinned down by a machine that has been placed astride us, with the main section adjusted to the contours of our bodies. A series of rigid metal appendages fasten our arms and legs. All these devices are electronically controlled, and we can, of course, escape at any time. Naturally, such action is for later...'
   Lesbee was chilled by the analysis; but for expendables there was no turning back.
   He ordered his men: 'Get dressed. Then start repairing the ship. Put all the floor plates back, except the section at G-8. They removed some of the instruments, and I'd better make sure myself that it all goes back all right.'
   When he had dressed, he reset the course of the lifeboat, and called Browne. The screen lit up after a moment, and there, staring back at him, was the unhappy countenance of the forty-year-old officer.
   Browne said glumly: 'I want to congratulate you and your crew on your accomplishments. It would seem that we have a small scientific superiority over this race, and that we can attempt a landing.'
   Since there would never be a landing on Alta III, Lesbee simply waited without comment, as Browne seemed lost in thought.
   The officer stirred finally. He still seemed uncertain. 'Mr. Lesbee,' he said, 'as you must understand, this is an extremely dangerous situation for me – and' – he added hastily – 'for this entire expedition.'
   What struck Lesbee, as he heard those words, was that Browne was not going to let him back on the ship. But he had to get aboard to accomplish his own purpose. He thought: 'I'll have to bring this whole conspiracy out into the open, and apparently make a compromise offer.'
   He drew a deep breath, gazed straight into the eyes of Browne's image on the screen, and said, with the complete courage of a man for whom there is no turning back: 'It seems to me, sir, that we have two alternatives. We can resolve all these personal problems either through a democratic election or by a joint captaincy, you being one of the captains and I being the other.'
   To any other person who might have been listening, the remark must have seemed a complete non sequitur. Browne, however, understood its relevance. He said with a sneer, 'So you've come out in the open. Well, let me tell you, Mr. Lesbee, there was never any talk of elections when the Lesbees were in power. And for a very good reason. A spaceship requires a technical aristocracy to command it. As for a joint captaincy, it wouldn't work.'
   Lesbee urged his lie: 'If we're going to stay here, we'll need at least two people of equal authority – one on the ground, one on the ship.'
   'I couldn't trust you on the ship!' said Browne flatly.
   'Then you be on the ship,' Lesbee proposed. 'All such practical details can be arranged.'
   The older man must have been almost beside himself with the intensity of his own feelings on this subject. He flashed, 'Your family has been out of power for over fifty years! How can you still feel that you have any rights?'
   Lesbee countered, 'How come you know what I'm talking about?'
   Browne said, a grinding rage in his tone, 'The concept of inherited power was introduced by the first Lesbee. It was never planned.'
   'But here you are,' said Lesbee, 'yourself a beneficiary of inherited power.'
   Browne said, from between clenched teeth, 'It's absolutely ridiculous that the Earth government which was in power when the ship left – and every member of which has long been dead – should appoint somebody to a command position... and that now his descendant thinks that command post should be his, and his family's, for all time!'
   Lesbee was silent, startled by the dark emotions he had uncovered in the man. He felt even more justified, if that were possible, and advanced his next suggestion without a qualm.
   'Captain, this is a crisis. We should postpone our private struggle. Why don't we bring one of these prisoners aboard so that we can question him by use of the films, or play acting? Later, we can discuss your situation and mine.'
   He saw from the look on Browne's face that the reasonableness of the suggestion, and its potentialities, were penetrating.
   Browne said quickly, 'Only you come aboard – and with one prisoner. No one else!'
   Lesbee felt a dizzying thrill as the man responded to his bait. He thought: 'It's like an exercise in logic. He'll try to murder me as soon as he gets me alone and is satisfied that he can attack without danger to himself. But that very scheme is what will get me aboard, and I've got to get on the ship to carry out my plan.'
   Browne was frowning. He said in a concerned tone: 'Mr. Lesbee, can you think of any reason why we should not bring one of these beings aboard?'
   Lesbee shook his head. 'No reason, sir,' he lied.
   Browne seemed to come to a decision. 'Very well. I'll see you shortly, and we can then discuss additional details.'
   Lesbee dared not say another word. He nodded, and broke the connection, shuddering, disturbed, uneasy.
   'But,' he thought, 'what else can we do?'
   He turned his attention to the part of the floor left open for him. Quickly he bent down and studied the codes on each of the programming units, as if he were seeking exactly the right ones that had previously been in those slots.
   He found the series he wanted: an intricate system of cross-connected units that had originally been designed to programme a remote-control landing system, an advanced Waldo mechanism capable of landing the craft on a planet and taking off again, all directed on the pulse level of human thought.
   He slid each unit of the series into its sequential position and locked it in.
   Then, that important task completed, he picked up the remote-control attachment for the series and casually put it in his pocket.
   He returned to the control board and spent several minutes examining the wiring and comparing it with a wall chart. A number of wires had been torn loose. These he now reconnected, and at the same time he managed with a twist of his pliers to short-circuit a key relay of the remote-control pilot.
   Lesbee replaced the panel itself loosely. There was no time to connect it properly. And, since he would easily justify his next move, he pulled a cage out of the storeroom. Into this he hoisted Dzing, manacles and all.
   Before lowering the lid, he rigged into the cage a simple resistance network that would prevent the Karn from broadcasting on the human-thought level. The device was simple merely in that it was not selective. It had an on-off switch which triggered, or stopped, energy flow in the metal walls on the thought level.
   When the device was installed, Lesbee slipped the tiny remote control for it into his pocket. He did not activate the control. Not yet.
   From the cage, Dzing telepathed: 'It is significant that these beings have selected me for this special attention. We might conclude that it is a matter of mathematical accident, or else that they are very observant and so noticed that I was the one who directed activities. Whatever the reason, it would be foolish to turn back now.'
   A bell began to ring. As Lesbee watched, a spot of light appeared high on one of the screens. It moved rapidly toward some crossed lines in the exact center of the screen. Inexorably, then, the Hope of Man, as represented by the light, and the lifeboat moved toward their fateful rendezvous.

15

   Browne's instructions were: 'Come to the alternate control room.'
   Lesbee guided his powered dolly with the cage on it, out of the big ship's airlock B – and saw that the man in the control room of the lock was Second Officer Selwyn. Heavy brass for such a routine task. Selwyn waved at him with a twisted smile, as Lesbee wheeled his cargo along the silent corridor.
   He saw no one else on his route. Other personnel had evidently been cleared from this part of the vessel. A little later, grim and determined, he set the cage down in the center of the auxiliary control room and anchored it magnetically to the floor.
   Browne climbed out of his control chair and stepped down from the rubber-sheathed dais to the same level as Lesbee. He came forward, smiling, his hand held out. He was a big man, as all the Brownes had been, bigger by a head than Lesbee, and good-looking in a clean-cut way. The two men were alone.
   'I'm glad you were so frank,' he said. 'I doubt if I could have spoken so bluntly to you, without your initiative as an example.'
   But as they shook hands, Lesbee was wary and suspicious, thinking: 'He's trying to recover from the insanity of his reaction. I really blew him wide open.'
   Browne continued in the same hearty tone, 'I've made up my mind. An election is out of the question. The ship is swarming with untrained dissident groups, most of which simply want to go back to Earth.'
   Lesbee, who had the same desire, was discreetly silent.
   Browne said, 'You'll be ground captain. I'll be ship captain. Why don't we sit down right now and work out a communique on which we can agree and that I can read over the speakers to everyone aboard?'
   As Lesbee seated himself in the chair beside Browne, he was thinking: 'What can be gained from publicly naming me ground captain?'
   He concluded finally, cynically, that the older man could gain the confidence of John Lesbee – lull him, lead him on, delude him, destroy him.
   Surreptitiously, Lesbee examined the room. The auxiliary control room was a large square chamber adjoining the massive central engines. Its control board was a duplicate of the one on the bridge located at the top of the ship. The great vessel could be guided equally from either board, except that preemptive power was on the bridge. The officer of the watch was given the right to make merit decisions in an emergency.
   Lesbee made a quick mental calculation, and deduced that it was First Officer Miller's watch on the bridge. Miller was a staunch supporter of Browne. The man was probably watching them on one of his screens, ready to come to the aid of Browne at a moment's notice.
   A few minutes later, Lesbee listened thoughtfully as Browne read their joint communique over the intercom, designating him as ground captain. He found himself a little amazed, and considerably dismayed, at the absolute confidence the older man must feel about his own power and position on the ship. It was a big step, naming his chief rival to so high a rank.
   Browne's next act was equally surprising. While they were still on the viewers, Browne reached over, clapped Lesbee affectionately on the shoulders and said to the watching audience:
   'As you all know, John is the only direct descendant of the original captain. No one knows exactly what happened half a hundred years ago when my grandfather first took command. But I remember the old man always felt that only he understood how things should be. I doubt if he had any confidence in any young whippersnapper over whom he did not have complete control. I often felt that my father was the victim rather than the beneficiary of my grandfather's temper and feelings of superiority.'
   Browne smiled engagingly. 'Anyway, good people, though we can't unbreak the eggs that were broken then, we can certainly start healing the wounds, without' – his tone was suddenly firm – 'negating the fact that my own training and experience make me the proper commander of the ship itself.'
   He broke off. 'Captain Lesbee and I shall now jointly attempt to communicate with the captured intelligent life form from the planet below. You may watch, though we reserve the right to cut you off for good reason.' He turned to Lesbee. 'What do you think we should do first, John?'
   Lesbee was in a dilemma. The first large doubt had come to him, the possibility that perhaps the other was sincere. The possibility was especially disturbing because in a few moments a part of his own plan would be revealed.
   He sighed, and realized that there was no turning back at this stage. He thought: 'We'll have to bring the entire madness out into the open, and only then can we begin to consider agreement as real.'
   Aloud, he said in a steady voice, 'Why not bring the prisoner out where we can see him?'
   As the tractor beam lifted Dzing out of the cage, and thus away from the energies that had suppressed his thought waves, the Karn telepathed to his contact on Alta III:
   'Have been held in a confined space, the metal of which was energized against communication. I shall now attempt to perceive and evaluate the condition and performance of this ship -'
   At that point, Browne reached over and clicked off the speaker system. Having shut off the audience, he turned accusingly to Lesbee, and said, 'Explain your failure to inform me that these beings communicated by telepathy.'
   The tone of his voice was threatening. There was a glint of anger in his eyes.
   It was the moment of discovery.
   Lesbee hesitated, and then simply pointed out how precarious their relationship had been. He finished frankly, 'I thought by keeping it a secret I might be able to stay alive a little longer, which was certainly not what you intended when you sent me out as an expendable.'
   Browne snapped, 'But how did you hope to utilize-?' He stopped. 'Never mind,' he muttered.
   Dzing was telepathing again:
   'In many ways this ship is very advanced. All automatic systems are well designed and largely self-repairing. There is high-level energy-screen equipment and they can generate a tractor beam to match any we can produce with mobile units. But the atomic-energy drive is most inefficient. The resonating-field coils which control particle acceleration are improperly balanced, as if the basic principle were not fully understood. Instead of being accelerated to near light-speed, the particles are ejected at relatively low velocities where their mass has hardly increased at all. There is not enough mass in the entire ship to have maintained the reactive mode more than a fraction of the distance from the nearest planetary system. Let me furnish you with the data that I am perceiving, for the large computers to interpret...'
   Lesbee said in alarm, 'Quick, sir, drop him back while we figure out what he's talking about!'
   Browne did so – as Dzing telepathed: 'My analysis is correct! Then these beings are completely at our mercy.'
   His thought was cut off abruptly, as he was lowered into the cage with its barrier energy.
   Browne was turning on the speaker system. He said into it: 'Sorry I had to tune you good people out. You'll be interested to know that we managed to read the thought pulses of the prisoner and have intercepted his calls to someone on the planet below. This gives us an advantage.' He turned to Lesbee. 'Don't you agree, Captain?'
   Browne visibly showed no anxiety, whereas Dzing's final statement had flabbergasted Lesbee. '... completely at our mercy... ' surely meant exactly that. He was staggered that Browne could have missed the momentous meaning.
   Browne addressed him enthusiastically: 'I'm excited by this telepathy. It's a marvelous shortcut to communication, if we could build up our own thought pulses. Maybe we could use the principle of the remote-control landing device which, as you know, can project human thoughts on a power-output level comparable to a radio-frequency transmitter.'
   What interested Lesbee in the suggestion was that he had in his pocket a three-stage remote control for precisely such electronically amplified thought pulses. Unfortunately, the control was for the lifeboat. It probably would be advisable to tune the control to the ship also. It was a problem he had thought of earlier, and now Browne had opened the way for an easy solution.
   He held his voice steady as he said, 'Captain, let me program those landing analogs while you prepare the film-communication project. That way we can be ready for him, no matter what.'
   Browne seemed to be completely trusting, for he agreed at once. A film projector was mounted, at Browne's direction, on solid connections at one end of the room. The projectionist and Third Officer Mindel – who had come in with him – strapped themselves into adjoining chairs attached to the projector.
   While this was going on, Lesbee called various technical personnel. Only one technician protested. 'But, John,' he said, 'that way we have a dual control – with the lifeboat control having pre-emption over the ship. It's against all principles of flight guidance to subordinate steady state mechanisms to gadgets. I-it's unusual.'
   It was unusual. But he was fighting for his life. And it was the lifeboat control that was in his pocket where he could reach it quickly; and so he said adamantly, 'Do you want to talk to Captain Browne? Do you want his O.K.?'
   'No, no.' The technician's doubts seemed to subside. 'I heard you being named joint captain. You're the boss. It shall be done.'
   Lesbee put down the closed-circuit phone into which he had been talking, and turned. It was then he saw that the film was ready to roll, and that Browne had his fingers on the controls of the tractor beam. The older man stared at him questioningly.
   'Shall I go ahead?' he asked.
   At this penultimate moment, Lesbee had a qualm.
   Almost immediately he realized that the only alternative to what Browne planned was that he reveal his own secret knowledge.
   He hesitated, torn by doubts. Then: 'Will you turn that off?' He indicated the intercom.
   Browne said to the audience, 'We'll bring you in again in a minute, good people.' He broke the connection and gazed questioningly at Lesbee.
   Whereupon Lesbee said in a low voice, 'Captain, I should inform you that I brought the Karn aboard in the hope of using him against you.'
   'Well, that is a frank and open admission,' the officer said softly.
   'I mention this,' said Lesbee, 'because if you had similar ulterior motives, we should clear the air completely before proceeding with the attempt at communication.'
   A blossom of color spread from Browne's neck over his face. At last he said slowly, 'I don't know how I can convince you, but I had no schemes.'
   Lesbee gazed at Browne's open countenance, and suddenly he realized that the officer was sincere. Browne had accepted the compromise. The solution of a joint captaincy was agreeable to him.
   Sitting there, Lesbee experienced a mixture of joy and doubt. He could not wholly overcome his fear of Browne's motives. On the other hand, it did seem as if communication worked. You could tell your truth and get a hearing – if it made sense.
   It seemed to him that he had to believe that his truth made sense. He was offering Browne peace aboard the ship. Peace at a price, of course; but still peace. And in this severe emergency Browne recognized the entire validity of the solution.
   So it was now evident to Lesbee.
   Without further hesitation he told Browne that the creatures who had boarded the lifeboat were robots – not alive at all.
   Browne was nodding thoughtfully. Finally he said: 'But I don't see how this could be utilized to take over the ship.'
   Lesbee explained that this robot had a built-in self-destruct system, designed in such a way that, when it was activated, it could be pointed so that it would also destroy anything in the path of the blast.
   'That,' said Lesbee, 'is why I had him on his back when I brought him in here. I could have had him tilted and pointing at you. Naturally, I made sure that this did not happen until you had indicated what you intended to do. One of my precautions would enable us to catch this creature's thoughts without -'
   As he was speaking, he slipped his hand into his pocket, intending to show the older man the tiny remote control by which – when it was off – they would be able to read Dzing's thoughts without removing him from the cage.
   He stopped short in his explanation because an ugly expression had come suddenly into Browne's face.
   The big man glanced at Third Officer Mindel. 'Well, Dan,' he said, 'do you think that's it?'
   Lesbee noticed with shock that Mindel was wearing a sound-amplifying device in one ear. He must have overheard every word that Browne and he had spoken to each other.
   Mindel nodded. 'Yes, Captain,' he said. 'I very definitely think he has now told us what we wanted to find out.'
   Lesbee grew aware that Browne had released himself from his safety belt and was stepping away from his seat. The officer turned and, standing very straight, said in a formal tone:
   'Technician Lesbee, we have heard your admission of gross dereliction of duty, conspiracy to overthrow the lawful government of this ship, scheme to utilize alien creatures to destroy human beings, and confession of other unspeakable crimes. In this extremely dangerous situation, summary execution without formal trial is justified. I therefore sentence you to death and order Third Officer Mindel to -'
   He faltered, and came to a stop.

16

   Two things had been happening as he talked. Lesbee squeezed the 'off' switch of the cage control, an entirely automatic gesture, convulsive, a spasmodic movement, result of his dismay. It was a mindless action. So far as he knew consciously, freeing Dzing's thoughts had no useful possibility for him. His only real hope – as he realized almost immediately – was to get his other hand into his remaining coat pocket and with it manipulate the remote-control landing device, the secret of which he had so naively revealed to Browne.
   The second thing that happened was that Dzing, released from mental control, telepathed:
   'Free again – and this time of course permanently! I have just now activated by remote control the relays that will in a few moments start the engines of this ship, and I have naturally reset the mechanism for controlling the rate of acceleration-'
   The robot's thoughts must have impinged progressively on Browne, for it was at that point that the officer paused uncertainly.
   Dzing continued: 'As I have rectified the field-control system, the atomic drive will now be able to achieve velocities close to that of light. I have also synchronized the artificial gravity so that there will be a considerable gap between that and the acceleration. They have neglected to take any real precautions against capture by this means -'
   Lesbee reached over, tripped on the speaker system, and yelled into the microphone: 'All stations prepare for emergency acceleration! Grab anything!'
   To Browne, he shouted: 'Get to your seat – quick!'
   His actions and words were automatic responses to danger. Only after he had spoken did it occur to him that he had no interest in the survival of Captain Browne. And that, in fact, the only reason the man was in danger was because he had stepped away from his safety belt so that Mindel's blaster would kill Lesbee without damaging Browne.
   Browne evidently understood his danger. He started toward the control chair from which he had released himself moments before. His reaching hands were still a foot or more from it when the impact of acceleration stopped him instantly and flung him backward to the floor. Still going back, he pressed the palms of his hands and his rubber shoes hard against the floor. That probably saved him from a head injury, for his tremendous effort brought him to a sitting position. And so he slid into the rear wall with his back. It was cushioned to protect human beings; it reacted like rubber, bouncing him several times.
   Pinned there by several g's of the continuing acceleration, he managed a strangled yell. 'Lesbee, put a tractor beam on me. Save me. I'll make it up to you.'
   The man's wild appeal brought momentary wonder to Lesbee. There was of course nothing he could do. He also was pinned in. But he was amazed that Browne hoped for mercy after what had happened.
   The thought and the emotion yielded to the reality that the acceleration was now constant at a bone-breaking intensity. Lesbee became acutely aware of his own awkward position.
   He had turned around to speak to Browne, and so he was facing in the wrong direction when the forward drive of the ship hit him. The safety belt and the pit of his stomach had taken the blow. Now, he hung in his belt, doubled up, still in his seat but like a man whose hands and feet were manacled together in front of him. He had the peculiar feeling that his insides would simply flow out of him if there were an opening anywhere in his body. His eyes bulged. The sensation was hideous.
   ...He must swing the chair around so that its back would bear the colossal pressure of acceleration.
   He was about to make his first tense effort in that direction, when the lid of the cage lifted and the head of Dzing appeared over its rim... The robot's thoughts had been coming steadily during these momentous seconds.
   '...Well, that was simple enough,' the Karn reported. 'I have the acceleration gap set at four of their gravities, enough to hold these two-legged beings but not kill them. How long will the boarding party be?' There was a pause and evidently an answer from below, for Dzing said mentally: 'That should give me time to investigate the engine room directly. There's some kind of control confusion, which operates on such a tiny level that I'm not programmed to deal with it by remote energies -'
   As it made these comments, the creature climbed out of its cage and – without any visible effect from the acceleration -walked to the door and disappeared into the corridor beyond. For a few moments longer, Lesbee was aware that it was continuing its description and discussion. But swiftly, the thought waves grew dim and then faded altogether.
   Lesbee became conscious that Browne had also watched Dzing's departure. The two men glared at each other, and then Browne attempted to speak. It was awful to watch him; the acceleration pulled his lips and his mouth muscles, and what came through was a strangled sound. Lesbee made out a few of the words.
   '... Your mad action... We'll be captured... destroyed -'
   Lesbee thought, 'I'll be damned. He's blaming me for our predicament.'
   He felt a twinge of guilt, but it was momentary. The question of where cause began in a human disaster, when everyone was being human, was not as simple as Browne seemed to believe... Since when, for instance, did a Browne have the right to name a Lesbee as expendable...?
   Lesbee did not give voice to these thoughts. He was trying to draw his right arm from its straight-out position in front of him. By bending his elbow, he found movement was not impossible. Cautiously, he forced the arm backward, and with his fingers – and with nearly all his strength – grasped the seat of the control chair... fumbled along it to the push-button controls of the chair.
   Reached them! Poised his finger on the one that would swing the chair around to face the board -
   There he stopped. His mind was beginning to work again. And, though it was like speaking with a cake of soap in his mouth, he gulped at Browne: 'How much fuel... in engine?'
   Impossible to tell from the stunned expression on Browne's face if the question produced a cunning reaction. The commander's muffled answer was: 'Many hours!'
   Lesbee experienced instant disappointment. For that moment, for that brief moment, he had hopefully recalled the continual talk of fuel shortage. There had even been rumors that during the period of slowing down for Alta there had been times when the engine had only an hour or so of fuel. In fact, he himself had several times been asked to torch-cut metals from hidden parts of the ship. And this he had done, and had taken the product of his effort to the engine room, in the understanding that the drive was ravenous; that the stuff would be used immediately.
   If that were so, then where did the present relative plenty come from?
   Ruefully, Lesbee realized that the colonists had probably been subjected to a propaganda harassment. There was, of course, a fuel shortage. But Browne had exaggerated its immediacy to the point where he had been able to order Lesbee out as an expendable, and no one had said a word.
   But regrettably now, he believed Browne. There was fuel in the engines... His brief hope that the available fuel would burn up and release them – was shattered... They'd have to escape from the acceleration pressure some other way...The only method he had was extremely dangerous. Meanwhile, other actions -
   Lesbee pressed the button on the side of the control chair.
   The chair, power driven, whirled around; the movement did bobbling things to his internal organs, and his legs and arms flip-flopped, were swung about, and forced back. With a thud, he landed breathless against the long, cushioned back of the chair, dizzy but safe and, after a long moment, ready for his next move.
   Tensing his arm muscles for the awkward effort, Lesbee forced his arm up, reached with straining fingers for his pocket, and pushed down. It was like using flesh to prop a heavy object. But seconds later, his hand – bruised and strangely numb – was inside his pocket.
   With all his strength, he forced his hand to open, to grasp the remote-control device that was in that pocket. But he did not immediately activate its first stage. 'Wait,' he thought, 'till the Karn gets some distance away.'
   He sat there; rather, he remained in his squeezed position, breathing with difficulty, conscious of a developing exhaustion. That brought alarm. Was it possible that his body could wear itself out at four g's, sitting?
   Yet if he killed Dzing at once, that would leave him alone with Browne and his minions, facing a sentence of death which Browne had not rescinded.
   And if he merely stopped the acceleration, that would bring the Karn robot racing back to find out what had happened.
   ...Nonpermissible, yet how avoid it...?
   As Lesbee reasoned it, the longer he could hold off final action the better his chance of learning vital information. For example, the question of how Dzing had speeded up the ship's drive had to be correctly understood. With so much new force in motion, an unconsidered move could kill people instantly, might even damage the ship itself.
   With that thought, he began a careful examination of the big board in front of him. The minutes dragged; and still he continued his study. The extreme tiredness that rapidly grew on him began to be his main problem. He kept dozing, and he would awaken with the shocked realization that time had gone by.
   But presently he understood.
   The acceleration was twelve gravities; the artificial-gravity force was eight gravities. The gap between the two – four gravities – was the pressure that was affecting them so severely.
   Lesbee had a sense of awe. This was a new, unheard-of technique. It meant that drastic changes had been made by remote-control mental action in the drive and the artificial-gravity coils.
   Hitherto the use of artificial gravity at the same time as acceleration had not been possible. There simply wasn't enough power available. But Dzing had rectified that by creating a vast new power source; the rapid ejection and expansion of particles multiplied the usable energy by some huge amount; theoretically, it was tens of thousands of times greater. In practice, of course, at low speeds, it was only a few hundred times greater.
   But there was enough power for all conceivable contingencies.
   Sitting there, breathing in that labored fashion, Lesbee felt the fantastic reality of the universe. During all this slow century of flight through space, the Hope of Man had had the potential for this vastly greater velocity.
   'And Dr. Tellier missed it,' he thought.
   Missed it! And so a shipload of human beings had wandered for generations through the black deeps of interstellar space.
   Lesbee thought, 'the moment I activate the first of the three stages of my little control device, Dzing will lose his control of the drive and of the artificial gravity.'
   Unfortunately, it would probably also send him racing back to the alternate control board to find out what had happened.
   Lesbee realized he could not take any chances with that at all. He would have to activate the Karn's self-destruct system with Stage Three of his little control device. And what bothered him about that was, paradoxically, 'that the robot was a protection for him.
   The moment the creature was destroyed, the total power that Browne had aboard the ship would be reasserted. Lesbee thought, 'If I can gain just a few minutes time here, while I maneuver around with Browne -'
   He thought about that for a moment longer. And then, because he dared not delay, he pressed the first button and then the third one.
   Instantly, his body sagged in its belt, weightless.
   Lesbee held himself alert, listening. But if there was an explosion anywhere on the ship, its repercussion failed to reach him.
   He thought, appalled, 'Good God, can it be the destruct system didn't work?'
   The panicky feeling that came subsided before a new urgent problem. Across the room Browne was climbing groggily to his feet.
   He muttered: '... better get back to... control chair...'
   He had taken only a few uncertain steps when a realization seemed to strike him. He looked up, and stared wildly at Lesbee. 'Oh!' he said. It was a gasp of horrified understanding.
   There was no time any more to think about Dzing. As he slapped a complex of tractor beams on Browne, Lesbee said, 'That's right. You're looking at your enemy. Let's have that completely understood, because we haven't got much time. Now, I want to ask you some questions.'
   Browne was pale. He said huskily, 'I did what any lawful government does in an emergency. I dealt with treason summarily, taking time only to find out what it consisted of.'
   The explanation was a meaningless bit of nonsense, in view of the history of the ship. But Lesbee did not pause to argue. He had a tense consciousness of working against time. It was outrageous that he had to fight both Browne's forces and Dzing, but that was the fact; and so, hastily, he swung Browne over in front of him, and took his blaster.
   Lesbee felt better when he had the weapon. But there was still another danger. Without turning, he spoke at the screen that connected directly with the bridge: 'Mr. Miller, are you there?'
   There was no answer.
   Lesbee said to Browne, 'Tell Miller not to attempt preemption. Any attempt by him to take over control means I'll use this blaster on you. Got that, Miller?' His voice was uncompromising.
   Again, there was no reply.
   Browne said uneasily, 'He may have been knocked unconscious.'
   Lesbee ardently hoped so, but there was no time for verification. For a few, vital uninterrupted minutes, now, he needed Browne's knowledge

17

   It was a moment for a combination of deviousness and frankness. Lesbee would have given a lot to be able to send out a single question over the speaker system. He wanted desperately to ask if there had been an explosion anywhere on the ship.
   But if there had been – if Dzing were destroyed – that knowledge would apprise the Browne forces that they had only a lone human being to deal with; and they would act promptly.
   And so, he dared not try to verify that vital information.
   But there were several things that Browne could help him on, and might, during these tense minutes when he himself felt threatened.
   Lesbee said urgently: 'What bothers me is how that creature could walk out of here and not be affected by the acceleration? It's impossible, yet he did it.'
   He finished with a lie: 'I find myself reluctant to act against the creature until we have an understanding of what it was he did.'
   He had lowered the big man to the floor, and now he took some of the tension from the tractor beam, but did not release the power. Browne stood in apparent deep thought. Finally, he nodded. 'All right, I know what happened.'
   'Tell me!'
   Browne changed the subject, said in a deliberate tone, 'What are you going to do with me?'
   Lesbee stared at him disbelievingly. 'You're going to withhold this information?'
   Browne said, 'What else can I do? Till I know my fate, I have nothing to lose.'
   To Lesbee the words brought brief cynicism, 'What's this?' he said satirically. 'Could this be a scheme to utilize alien creatures to destroy human beings? Are you putting your own safety above that of the ship and its mission? Don't you think this justifies summary execution?'
   The tone must have alarmed Browne, for he said quickly, 'Look, there's no need for you to conspire any more. What you really want is to go home, isn't it? Don't you see, with this new method of acceleration, we can make it to Earth in a few months.'
   He stopped. He seemed uncertain.
   Lesbee said angrily, 'Who are you trying to fool? We're a dozen light-years in actual distance from Earth. You mean years, not months.'
   Browne hesitated. 'All right, a few years. But at least not a lifetime. So if you'll promise not to scheme against me further, I'll promise-'
   'You'll promise!' Lesbee spoke savagely. He had been taken aback by Browne's instant attempt to blackmail. But the momentary sense of defeat was gone. He knew with stubborn rage that he would stand for no nonsense.
   He said in an uncompromising tone, 'Mr. Browne, twenty seconds after I stop speaking, you start talking. I mean it.'
   Browne said, 'Are you going to kill me? That's the only thing I want reassurance on. Look' – his voice appealed – 'we don't have to fight any more. We can go home. Don't you see? The long madness is just about over. Nobody has to die. But quick, man, destroy that creature with your remote-control method!'
   Lesbee hesitated. What the other was saying was at least partly true. His words so far included an attempt to make twelve years sound like twelve weeks or, at most, twelve months. But the fact was, it was a short period compared to the century-long journey which, at one time, had been the only possibility.
   He thought, 'Am I going to kill him?'
   It was hard to believe that he would, under the circumstances. But if not death, what then? He sat there, uncertain. The vital seconds went by, and he could see no solution. He thought finally, in desperation: 'I'll have to give in for the moment.'
   'I'll promise you this,' he said. 'If you can figure out how I can feel safe in a ship commanded by you, I'll give your plan consideration. And now, mister, start talking.'
   Browne nodded. 'I accept that promise.'
   Browne went on, 'There are two possible explanations, and naturally I prefer the more commonplace one. That is, I postulate that this robot used some kind of energy flows, like a balance of tractor and pressor beams. He used this in the same instantaneous, or rapid, feedback system that you and I use in our muscles to balance ourselves when we walk under normal gravity.'
   'What is the second explanation?' Lesbee asked.
   'That takes us beyond normal response and normal energy situations. When we last saw the robot, the appearance he presented was of an object for which the entire phenomenon of inertia had been suspended. If this were true, then we are observing a big event, indeed. To understand it, we'd have to consider light-speed theories and, particularly, the Lorentz-Fitzgerald Contraction Theory. At the speed of light, mass becomes infinite but size is zero. Thus, matter ceases instantly to be subject to inertia as we know it. There is no other condition in the universe where that can happen naturally. Dzing has somehow created the condition artificially – if this second explanation is the true one.'
   Lesbee said doubtfully, 'I'm inclined to accept the tractor-pressor explanation. Is there any way we could determine which method he used?'
   Browne could think of no method for determining it after the event. 'If it was a combination of energy flows, then it probably registered on the board at the time. And it will show again when he comes into the room.'
   That, Lesbee realized, would be a little late to be useful. He asked helplessly, 'Is there anything we need to learn from this creature?'
   'We've already learned it,' said Browne. 'This thing has a casual control of energy and an understanding of space time that is far ahead of us scientifically. Therefore, we have no business in this sun system. So let's get out of here as fast as we can.'
   Lesbee was remembering how all the Karn on the lifeboat had pretended to be affected by inertia, when they evidently had not been.
   Aloud, he said, 'Maybe your second explanation does cover it better.'
   Browne shook his head. 'No, he'd have been here within instants, if that was what he could do. There's a state of compressed time at light-speed.'
   'How do you mean?'
   Browne was uneasy. 'Let's not waste time on an intellectual discussion,' he said.
   'I want to know what you mean.'
   'It's condensed time. He would have a time ratio, in relation to us, of hundreds to one. Ten minutes for us could be only a second for him.'
   'Then he should have been here by now, if that's what he could do?'
   'That's what I've been trying to tell you.'
   Lesbee had to fight to hold back his excitement. The thought in his mind was that by pressing Button Three immediately after Button One, he had prevented that kind of instantaneous return by the Karn.
   He thought, 'And I did it without even knowing how deadly dangerous the situation was, because I was logical, because I didn't want to take any chances.'
   He felt a great joy in himself.
   'For God's sake, Lesbee-'
   Lesbee's elation faded as rapidly as it had come, for Browne was as great a danger as ever.
   Lesbee gazed at the man gloomily.
   'For God's sake, Lesbee,' said Browne, 'that thing must be practically back here. Tell me what you want me to agree to, and I'll do it.'
   Lesbee said, 'I think we ought to have an election.'
   'I agree,' said Browne instantly. 'You set it up.' He broke off. 'And now release me from these tractors, and let's act.'
   Lesbee gazed at the man's face, saw there the same openness of countenance, the same frank, honest look that had preceded the execution order, and he thought, 'What can he do?'
   He considered many possibilities, and thought finally, desperately, 'He's got the advantage of superior knowledge – the most undefeatable weapon in the world. The only thing I can really hope to use against it in the final issue is my knowledge of a multitude of technician-level details.'
   But – what could Browne do against him?
   Lesbee said unhappily, 'Before I free you, I want to lift you over to Mindel. When I do, you get his blaster for me.'
   'Sure,' said Browne casually.
   A few minutes later he handed Mindel's gun over to Lesbee. So that wasn't it.
   Lesbee thought: 'There's Miller on the bridge – can it be that Miller flashed him a ready signal when my back was turned to the board?'
   Perhaps, like Browne, Miller had been temporarily incapacitated during the period of acceleration. It was vital that he find out Miller's present capability.
   Lesbee tripped the intercom between the two boards. The rugged, lined face of the first officer showed large on the screen. Lesbee could see the outlines of the bridge behind the man and, beyond, the starry blackness of space. Lesbee said courteously, 'Mr. Miller, how did you make out during the acceleration?'
   'It caught me by surprise, Captain. I really got a battering. I think I was out for a while. But I'm all right now.'
   'Good,' said Lesbee. 'As you probably heard, Captain Browne and I have come to an agreement, and we are now going to destroy the creature that is loose on the ship. Stand by!'
   Cynically, he broke the connection.
   Miller was there all right, waiting. But the question was still, what could Miller do? The answer was, of course, that Miller could pre-empt. And – Lesbee asked himself – what could that do?
   Suddenly, he had the answer.
   He now understood Browne's plan. They were waiting for Lesbee to let his guard down for a moment. Then Miller would take over, cut off the tractor beam from Browne, and seize Lesbee with it.
   For the two officers it was vital that Lesbee not have the time to fire the blaster at Browne. Lesbee thought: 'It's the only thing they can be worried about, so far as I'm concerned.' And as soon as Lesbee was dead, or under control, Browne would grab the mechanism out of his pocket, and activate Stage Three – which would destroy Dzing.
   Their plan, as Lesbee saw it, had only one flaw. Now that he had deduced what it was, he could turn it against them.
   He realized that he had preparations to make quickly, before Browne got suspicious of his delay.
   He turned to the board and switched on the intercom. 'People,' he said, 'strap yourselves in again. Help those who were injured to do the same. We may have another emergency. You all have about a minute, I think, but don't waste any of it.'
   He cut off that intercom, and activated the closed-circuit intercom of the technical stations. He said: 'Special instructions to technical personnel. Listen carefully. Did any of you hear an explosion about ten minutes ago?'
   He had an answer to that within moments after he had finished speaking. A man's twangy voice came: 'This is Dan. There was an explosion in the corridor near me – seems longer ago than ten minutes.'
   Lesbee restrained his excitement. 'Where?' he asked.
   'D– four-nineteen.'
   Lesbee pressed the viewer buttons, and a moment later found himself gazing along a corridor that looked stove in. Wall, ceiling, floor – everything – was a mass of twisted metal.
   No question, Dzing had been blown apart. There was no other possible explanation for such destruction.
   Relieved, but aware again that his greatest personal danger remained, Lesbee set up Stage Two of the little device in his pocket in relation to the alternate control board. Then he turned and faced Browne.
   The older man seemed uncertain as to what had happened.
   'What was all that?' he asked.
   Lesbee explained that Dzing was destroyed.
   'Oh!' Browne seemed to consider that. 'That was clever of you not to reveal it,' he said finally.
   'I wasn't sure,' Lesbee said. 'This ship is really soundproofed. The explosion didn't reach us here.'
   Browne seemed to accept that.
   Lesbee said, 'If you'll wait a moment while I put away this gun, I'll carry out my part of the bargain.'
   But when he had put the blaster away, he paused out of pity.
   He had been thinking about what Browne had said, earlier: that the trip to earth might require only a few months. The officer had backed away from that statement, but it had been bothering Lesbee ever since.
   If it were true, then, indeed, nobody needed to die.
   He said quickly, 'What was your reason for saying that the journey home would only take – well – less than a year?'
   'It's the tremendous time compression near light-speed,' Browne explained eagerly. 'The distance, as you pointed out, is over twelve light-years. But with this new principle of acceleration, we can work up a time ratio of 300, 400, or 500 to one, and we'll actually make the trip in less than a month. When I first started to say that, I could see that the figures were incomprehensible to you in your tense mood. In fact, I could scarcely believe them myself.'
   Lesbee said, staggered, 'We can get back to the solar system in a few weeks – my God!' He broke off, said urgently, 'Look, I accept you as commander. We don't need an election. The status quo is good enough for any short period of time. Do you agree?'
   'Of course,' said Browne. 'That's the point I've been trying to make.'
   As he spoke, his face was utterly guileless.
   Lesbee gazed at that mask of innocence and he thought hopelessly, 'What's wrong? Why isn't he really agreeing? Is it because he doesn't want to lose his command so quickly?'
   Sitting there, unhappily fighting for the other's life, he tried to place himself mentally in the position of the commander of a vessel, tried to look at the prospect of a return to Earth from the other's point of view. It was hard to picture. But presently it seemed to him that he understood.
   He said gently, feeling his way, 'It would be kind of a shame to return without having made a successful landing anywhere. With this new speed, we could visit a dozen sun systems, and still get home in a year.'
   The look that came into Browne's face for a fleeting moment told Lesbee that he had penetrated to the thought in the man's mind.
   The next instant Browne was shaking his head vigorously. 'This is no time for side excursions,' he said. 'We'll leave explorations of new star systems to future expeditions. The people of this ship have served their term. We go straight home.'
   Browne's face was now completely relaxed. His blue eyes shone with truth and sincerity.
   There was nothing further that Lesbee could say. The gulf between Browne and himself could not be bridged.
   The commander had to kill his rival so that he might finally return to Earth and report that the mission of the Hope of Man had been accomplished.

18

   Lesbee used the tractor beam to push Browne about six feet from him. There he set him down, and released him from the beam. With the same deliberateness, he drew his hand away from the tractor controls, and swung his chair around so that his back was to the board. Thus he rendered himself completely defenseless.
   It was the moment of vulnerability.
   Browne leaped at him, yelling: 'Miller – pre-empt!'
   First Officer Miller obeyed the command of his captain.
   As the bridge control board took over, a sequence of control exchanges was set in motion.
   The alternate control board was removed from the circuit.
   The rerouted electric current opened and closed relays, in accordance with the physics of current flow.
   The two control boards were so perfectly synchronized that the one which took over always continued what the other had had set up on it. Normally, therefore, nothing could go wrong during pre-emption.
   But in this instance, the alternate control board had one of its controls subordinated to the tiny device in Lesbee's pocket. At the moment, that powerful little gadget was holding in check twelve g's of drive and eight g's of artificial gravity... in reverse, exactly as Lesbee had reprogrammed them when he pressed the Stage Two Button.
   When the bridge took over, the drive and the artificial gravity resumed their function instantly.
   The Hope of Man – instantly – decelerated at a four-g gap speed.
   Lesbee took the blow of that abrupt slowdown, partly against his back and partly against his right side, with the sturdy rear of the chair as his principal support.
   It was a wholly adequate support.
   But Browne was caught off balance. He had been coming at Lesbee from an angle. The enormous impact of the deceleration flung him at this angle straight at the control board. He struck it with an audible thud and stuck to it as if he were glued there.
   A cut– off relay, which Lesbee had also preprogrammed through the alternate control board, now shut off the engines as suddenly as they had started. During the weightlessness that followed, Browne's body worked itself free and slid down to the dais.
   There was discoloration at a dozen spots on the uniform. As Lesbee stared, fascinated, blood seeped through.