Well, maybe so. Some of the older members of the crew remember that the Mesozoic was the dinosaur era, and they don’t see anything particularly enticing about setting up a colony in the midst of a lot of dinosaurs. But there isn’t any logical necessity to the analogy, which others promptly point out. Evolution doesn’t have to follow the same track on every world. High humidity and tropical temperatures from pole to pole and an extra dollop of CO₂in the air may have given rise to a dominant race of giant reptiles on Earth, sure, but on Planet B the same circumstances may have brought forth nothing more complex than a tribe of happy jellyfish dreamily adrift in the balmy oceans.

Oh, the oceans. A bit of a puzzle there, Hesper has to concede. His long-distance proxy-equivalent hocus-pocus has, at least so far, failed to turn up evidence that thereare any oceans on Planet B. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, considering the apparent prevalence of water molecules in the atmosphere and the generally high global mean temperatures, which might reasonably have been expected to induce a lot of rainfall. But Planet B’s surface, as manifested in the surrogate form of Hesper’s long-range data, seems to have the same even texture everywhere, no inequalities of albedo or temperature or anything else significant, so either there is a single vast planetary ocean or none at all. The latter is by far the more probable hypothesis. So a little mystery exists in that quarter — one that will have to await resolution for a while, until they are much closer and can carry out some direct optical inspection of the place itself.

And then, one would assume, once there has been a good look-see from low orbit and the place is found worthy of further checking out, there will be the whole thing of sending down a drone probe again, followed, if everything looks good, by a manned ship, an exploratory party. Everyone has started to assume that thingswill look good down there, in fact that things will be downright ideal, and therefore that an exploratory party is ultimately in the cards. Which brings up some questions that have already arisen once before in the course of the voyage — the makeup of the landing party that will go down to confirm the usefulness and beauty of Planet B, and the concomitant issue of the expiration of the year-captain’s second year in office.

That second year is almost up now. And he will want to be part of any exploration team that goes down to visit Planet B, of course. So they have the troublesome business of an election to deal with, once again.

It is dealt with, quietly and quickly, in a caucus consisting of the dozen members of the expedition who care most about these matters.

“He is essential and indispensable,” Heinz says. “There’s no other plausible possibility for the job, is there? Is there?”

“Well, is there?” Paco asks. “You tell us.”

“Obviously there’s no one,” says Elizabeth. “He’ll have to be reelected.”

“You three have it very neatly worked out, don’t you?” Julia says.

Heinz gives her a quick look. “You don’t like it? Does that mean you’re volunteering to run again yourself?”

“You know I would, if I thought it would do any good. But I have to agree with you that if we took another vote, I wouldn’t be elected. He would.”

“And he will be,” says Heinz. “Just as he was last year.”

Huw says, “He’ll erupt. He’ll absolutely explode.”

“If we hand hima fait accompli ?” Sylvia says. “Simply tell him that he’s been reelected again by acclamation, and appeal to his sense of duty?”

“His sense of duty,” says Huw, “is directed entirely toward the exploration of the planets we discover. He didn’t sign on to be captain for life. It’s a job that’s supposed to rotate from year to year, isn’t it? So why would he let himself be stuck with it forever if it permanently disqualifies him from doing the one thing that he signed on to do?”

They consider that for a while. It’s a valid enough point; but in the end they agree that there’s no one else on board who can rally the necessary support. The year-captain has established himself in everyone’s mind as the captain-for-life; replacing him now with somebody else would have something of the quality of an insurrection. And who would they choose, anyway? Roy, Giovanna, Julia, Huw, Leon? Those who are qualified, even remotely, for the captaincy are either unwilling to take the job or else unsuitable by virtue of their existing responsibilities.

In the end, they decide quietly to canvass the ship’s entire complement and present the year-captain with the results of the tally. This is done; and the vote confirming his reelection is unanimous. Huw, Heinz, Julia, and Leon agree to be the members of the delegation that will bring this news to the year-captain. At the last moment Noelle, who has been present in the gaming lounge while this part of the operation is under discussion, asks to be included in the group.

“No,” says the year-captain instantly when he is apprised of what has been going on. “Forget it. Don’t waste your time even thinking about it. My term is coming to its end, thank God, and you have to start finding somebody else to be captain.”

“The vote, you know, was unanim—” Leon begins.

“So? What of it?” the year-captain demands, speaking over him. “Did anyone consult me? Did anyone take the trouble to ask me whether I was going to be a candidate for reelection? Which I most emphatically do not intend to be. I took this second term with the greatest reluctance and I’m not going to take a third term under any circumstances whatsoever. Is that clear?”

Of course it’s clear; it’s been clear to everybody for a long time. But they can’t accept his refusal, because the ship must have a captain, and no other satisfactory and electible prospect for that job is on the horizon. They tell him this, and he tells them once again how adamant he intends to be about his desire to give up his office, and for a time everyone is speaking at once. A great deal of heat is generated, but not much light.

In a moment of sudden stillness that pops with almost comic predictability into the general hubbub, Noelle’s quiet voice abruptly is heard for the first time: “Is the rule about not being able to be part of the landing expedition the thing that makes you not want to go on being captain?”

“Of course it is.”

“And that’s the only reason? There’s nothing else?”

He considers that for a moment. “Nothing of any real significance, I suppose.”

“Then why don’t we change the rule?” Noelle asks.

They all look thunderstruck by the sheer simplicity of her suggestion, even the year-captain. Leon is the first to speak, finally. “The rule isn’t just an arbitrary nuisance. Planetary landings are risky things, and we are under orders not to risk the life of the year-captain in adventures of that sort.”

“But if there isn’t going to be any year-captain at all unless we allow the one we have to take that risk,” Julia says, “then what good is the—”

“Besides,” Leon continues implacably, “we have all agreeda priori to abide by the terms of the Articles of the Voyage. We have no right to abrogate or modify any of those terms unilaterally. Without consultation with Earth, and the permission of—”

Now it is Noelle who cuts in. “There’s no way we can consult with Earth,” she points out. “The contact has been severed. You know that.”

“Even so,” says Leon, “we have an obligation to maintain and uphold—”

“What obligation? To whom?” Heinz says. And Huw calls out boomingly, “Hear, hear! Hear, hear!”

There is another round of hubbub. This time the year-captain restores order by rapping on the cabin wall with the flat of his hand until they are all silent.

Then he says, in a chilly take-no-prisoners voice, “We have here the seeds of a compromise, I think. I’ll agree to accept the captaincy for another year provided we amend the Articles of the Voyage to permit me to take part, at my sole discretion, in any future missions of planetary exploration that may occur during my term in office.”