For Ford McCormack, friend, logician, technical expert, man of many parts, who seems to be as much at home in the exotic universe of translight speeds as on the stage of important little theaters – to whom I am indebted for some of the concepts and for nearly all of what is scientifically exact in this fantastic story.

Out of the corner of one eye, young Lesbee saw Ganarette climbing the steps that led to the spaceship's bridge. He felt vaguely annoyed. Ganarette, at nineteen, was a big, husky youth with a square jaw and belligerent manner. Like Lesbee himself, he had been born on the ship. As a non-officer, he was not allowed on the bridge and it was that, entirely aside from his own personal dislike of Ganarette, that annoyed Lesbee about the intrusion.

Besides, he was scheduled to go off duty in five minutes.

Ganarette mounted the final step, and climbed gingerly down to the cushiony floor. He must have been intent on his descent, for when he looked up and saw the black, starry heavens, he gasped and then stood teetering a dozen feet from Lesbee, staring into the darkness. His reaction startled Lesbee. It hadn't struck him before, but there were actually people on this ship whose only view of space had been by way of the visiscreen.

The sheer, stark reality of the plastiglass bridge, with its effect of standing there in the dark, empty space itself, must be mind-staggering. Lesbee had a vague feeling of superiority. He had been allowed on the bridge since early childhood.

To him, what was out there seemed as natural and ordinary as the ship itself.

He saw that Ganarette was recovering from his initial shock. 'So,' Ganarette said, 'this is what it's really like. Which is Centaurus?'

Stiffly, Lesbee pointed out the very bright star which was visible beyond the sight lines of the astrogation devices. Since nonmilitary personnel were never permitted on the bridge, he wondered if he were obligated to report the youth's intrusion.

He felt reluctant to do so, first of all because it might antagonize the other young people aboard. As the captain's son, be was already being treated as a person set apart. If he definitely aligned himself with the ship authority, he might find himself even more cut off.

He had a sudden mental picture of himself repeating his father's lonely existence.

He shook his head ever so slightly, silently rejecting that way of life.

In a few minutes his period of duty for the day would be over. At that point he would lead Ganarette gently but firmly down the steps and give him as friendly a warning as possible. He saw that the youth was looking at him with a faint, cynical smile.

'Doesn't look very close. Boy, they sure pulled a trick on the colonists, pretending the ship was going to make the trip at the speed of light or faster and get there in four years.' Ganarette's tone was sarcastic.

'Nine more years,' Lesbee said, 'and we'll be there.'

'Yeah!' Cynically. "That I have to see.' He broke off. 'And which is Earth?'

Lesbee led him to the other side of the bridge to a sighting device that was always aimed at Earth's sun.

The pale star held Ganarette's interest for nearly a minute. His face changed; gloom was written there. He slumped a little, then whispered, 'It's so far away, so very far away. If we started back now, you and I would be forty years old when we got there.'

He whirled and firmly grasped Lesbee's shoulders. Think of it!' he said. 'Forty years old. Half of our lifetime gone, but still a chance to have a little fun – if we turned back this instant.'

Lesbee freed himself from the clamping fingers. He was disturbed. It was more than a year since he had heard that kind of talk from any of the younger folk. Ever since his father initiated the lectures on the importance of this, the second voyage to Alpha Centauri, the wilder spirits among the young people had quieted down.

Ganarette seemed to realize that his action had been foolish.

He stepped back with a sheepish grin. Once more he became satiric. He said, 'But of course it would be silly to turn back now when we're only nine years from Centaurus, a mere eighteen years farther from Earth, there and return.'

Lesbee did not ask, return to what? Long ago, most of those aboard had ceased to regard the original purpose of the voyage as having meaning. There was the sun, wasn't there, with no visible change? And so there must be an Earth to return to. Lesbee knew that among the young people his father was considered to be an old fool who dared not go back to face the ridicule of his fellow scientists. The pride of this foolish old man was continuing to force a shipload of people to spend the equivalent of a normal lifetime in space. Lesbee had often felt the horror at such a prospect that Ganarette was now expressing, and he could not help but share some of the condemnation of his father.

Trembling, he looked at his watch. He was relieved to see that it was time to switch on the automatic pilot. His duty period was over. He turned, manipulated the control switches, counted the lights that went on, cross-checked with the two physicists in the engine room, and then, as he always did, made a second count of the lights. They were still exactly right. For twelve hours now, electronic machinery would guide the ship. Then Carson would assume the watch for six hours. The first officer would be followed, after twelve more hours, by the second officer who, in turn, would be succeeded by Browne, the third officer. And then, when still another twelve hours of automatic flight had gone by, it would be his turn again.

Such was the pattern of his life, and so it had been since his fourteenth birthday. It was certainly not a hard existence. The ship's top officers actually had an easy time of it. But each man was jealous of his duty stint, and always showed up on the dot. A few years ago, Browne had even had himself wheeled to the upper deck in a wheelchair and then assisted to the bridge by his son, who had remained with his sick father during the entire six hours.

Such devotion to duty puzzled young Lesbee, and so he had made one of his rare efforts to communicate with his father, asking him what could have motivated Browne. The old man smiled at him quizzically, and explained, 'Going on watch is the status symbol of every officer, so don't ever regard it lightly. They don't, as Browne is demonstrating. We are the official ruling class, my boy. Treat all those men with respect, use their formal titles, and in return they'll recognize your status. Whatever benefits accrue to the nobility aboard this ship will depend on how well we maintain such amenities.'

Lesbee had already discovered that several of the benefits were that the prettiest girls smiled at him, and came running when he smiled back.

Recalling the smiles of one girl in particular, he emerged from his reverie and realized that he would barely have time to wash up before the movie started.

He grew aware that Ganarette was looking at the clock on the low-built control board. The young man faced Lesbee. 'O.K., John,' he said, 'you might as well get it now. Five minutes after the motion picture starts my group is taking over the ship. We intend to make you captain, but only on the condition that you agree to turn back to Earth. We won't hurt any of the old fogies – if they behave. If they act up, there'll be as much trouble as they want. If you try to warn anybody, we shall reconsider our plan to make you captain.'