He wasn't in his room; Barbara suggested that I try the laboratory. He was there, alone, unpacking specimens that had been sent over the day before. He looked up. "Well, Tom, how is it going?"

"Not too good."

"I know. Say, I haven't had a proper chance to thank you. Shall I write it out, or will you have it right off my chest?"

"Uh, let's take it for granted." I had not understood him at first, for it is the simple truth that I had forgotten about pulling him out of the water; I hadn't had time to think about it.

"As you say. But I won't forget it. You know that, don't you?"

"Okay. Harry, I need advice."

"You do? Well, I've got it in all sizes. All of it free and all of it worth what it costs, I'm afraid."

"You were at the meeting tonight."

"So were you." He looked worried.

"Yes." I told him all that had been fretting me, then thought about it and told him all that Chet had said. "What am I to do, Harry? Chet is right; the chance of doing any good on another jump isn't worth it. Even if we find a planet worth reporting—a chance that is never good, based on what the fleet has done as a whoIe—even so, we almost certainly won't be able to report it except by going back, two centuries after we left. It's ridiculous and, as Chet says, suicidal, with what we've got left. On the other hand, the Captain is right; this is what we signed up for. The ship's sailing orders say for us to go on."

Harry carefully unpacked a package of specimens before he answered.

"Tommie, you should ask me an easy one. Ask me whether or not to get married and I'll tell you like a shot. Or anything else. But there is one thing no man can tell another man and that is whore his duty lies. That you must decide for yourself."

I thought about it. "Doggone it, Harry, how do you feel about it?"

"Me?" He stopped what he was doing. "Tom, I just don't know. For myself personally... well, I've been happier in this ship than I have ever been before in my life. I've got my wife and kids with me and I'm doing just the work I want to do. With others it may be different."

"How about your kids?"

"Aye, there's the rub. A family man—" He frowned. "I can't advise you, Tom. If I even hint that you should not do what you signed up to do, I'd be inciting to mutiny...a capital crime, for both of us. If I tell you that you must do what the Captain wants, I'd be on safe legal grounds—but it might mean the death of you and me and my kids and all the rest of us... because Chet has horse sense on his side even if the law is against him." He sighed. "Tom, I just missed checking out today—thanks to you—and my judgment isn't back in shape. I can't advise you; I'd be prejudiced."

I didn't answer. I was wishing that Uncle Steve had made it; he always had an answer for everything.

"All I can do," Harry went on, "is to make a weaselly suggestion."

"Huh? What is it?"

"You might go to the Captain privately and tell him just how worried you are. It might affect his decisions. At least he ought to know."

I said I would think about it and thanked him and left. I went to bed and eventually got to sleep. I was awakened in the middle of the night by the ship shaking. The ship always swayed a little when waterborne, but not this way, nor this much; not on Elysia.

It stopped and then it started again... and again it stopped... and started. I was wondering what... when it suddenly quivered in an entirely different way, one that I recognized; it was the way the torch felt when it was just barely critical. The engineers called it "clearing her throat" and was a regular part of overhaul and inspection. I decided that Mr. Regato must be working late, and I quieted down again. The bumping did not start up again.

At breakfast I found out what it was: the behemoths had tried something, nobody knew what, against the ship itself... whereupon the Captain had quite logically ordered Mr. Regato to use the torch against them. Now, although we still did not know much about them, we did know one thing: they were not immune to super-heated steam and intense radioactivity.

This brush with the sea devils braced my spine; I decided to see the Captain as Harry had suggested.

He let me in without keeping me waiting more than five minutes. Then he kept quiet and let me talk as long as I wanted to. I elaborated the whole picture, as I saw it, without attributing anything to Chet or Harry. I couldn't tell from his face whether I was reaching him or not, so I put it strongly: that Unc and Mei-Ling were both out of the picture and that the chance that I would be of any use after the next peak was so slight that he was risking his. ship and his crew on very long odds.

When I finished I still didn't know, nor did he make a direct answer. Instead he said, "Bartlett, for fifty-five minutes yesterday evening you had two other members of the crew in your room with your door closed."

"Huh? Yes, sir."

"Did you speak to them of this?"

I wanted to lie. "Uh... yes, sir."

"After that you looked up another member of the crew and remained with him until quite late... or quite early, I should say. Did you speak to him on the same subject?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well I am holding you for investigation on two counts: suspicion of inciting to mutiny and suspicion of intent to mutiny. You are under arrest. Go to your room and remain there. No visitors."

I gulped, Then something Uncle Steve had told me came to my aid-Uncle had been a jawbone space-lawyer and loved to talk about it. "Aye, aye, sir. But I insist that I be allowed to see counsel of my choice... and that I be given a public hearing."

The Captain nodded as if I had told him that it was raining. "Certainly. Your legal rights will be respected. But those matters will have to wait; we are now preparing to get underway. So place yourself under arrest and get to your quarters."

He turned away and left me to confine myself. He didn't even seem angry.

So here I sit, alone in my room. I had to tell Unc he couldn't come in and, later, Chet. I can't believe what has happened to me.

That morning seemed a million years long. Vicky checked with me at the usual time, but I told her that the watch list was being switched around again and that I would get in touch with her later. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, hon, we're just having a little reorganization aboard ship."

"All right. But you sound worried."

I not only didn't tell her that I was in a jam, I didn't tell her anything about the disaster. Time enough later, after it had aged—unless she found out from official news. Meanwhile there was no reason to get a nice kid upset over something she couldn't help.

Twenty minutes later Mr. Eastman showed up. I answered the door when he knocked and told him, "I'm not to have any visitors. Sorry."

He didn't leave. "I'm not a visitor, Tom; I'm here officially, for the Captain."

"Oh." I let him in.

He had a tool kit with him. He set it down and said, "The regular and special communication departments have been consolidated, now that we are so shorthanded, so it looks like I'm your boss. It won't make any difference, I'm sure. But I'm to make a reconnection on your recorder, so that you can record directly into the comm office."

"Okay. But why?"

He seemed embarrassed, "Well... you were due to go on watch a half hour ago. We're going to fix this so that you can stand your watches conveniently from here. The Captain is annoyed that I didn't arrange it earlier." He started unscrewing the access plate to the recorder.