Eldreth said gently, "Is he dead?"

"Huh? Of course. Don't talk silly." The steward turned his face away.

The car bumped to a stop. Walther looked in through the lock and said angrily, "Get those bystanders out of the way. What is this? A circus?" He turned back. "Let's get him in, men."

As he was bending to help, Max saw Eldreth being led away by Mrs. Dumont. Tenderly they carried Sam in and deposited him on the deck where the Surgeon was waiting. Walther straightened up and seemed to notice Max for the first time. "Mr. Jones? Will you see me in my stateroom as quickly as possible, please?"

"Aye aye, sir. But ..." Max looked down at his friend. "I'd like to ..."

Walther cut him short. "There's nothing you can do. Come away." He added more gently, "Make it fifteen minutes. That will give you time for a wash and a change."

Max presented himself on time, showered, his face hastily scraped, and in clean clothes--although lacking a cap. His one cap was somewhere in the far valley, lost on capture. He found Chief Engineer Compagnon and Mr. Samuels, the Purser, with the First Officer. They were seated around a table, having coffee. "Come in, Mr. Jones," Walther invited. "Sit down. Coffee?"

"Uh, yes, sir." Max discovered that he was terribly hungry. He loaded the brew with cream and sugar.

They sat for a few minutes, talking of unimportant matters, while Max drank his coffee and steadied down. Presently Walther said, "What shape are you in, Mr. Jones?"

"Why, all right, I guess, sir. Tired, maybe."

"I imagine so. I'm sorry to have to disturb you. Do you know the situation now?"

"Partly, sir. Sam told me ... Sam Anderson ..." His voice broke.

"We're sorry about Anderson," Mr. Walther said soberly. "In many ways he was one of the best men I ever served with. But go on."

Max recounted what Sam had had time to tell him, but shortened the statements about Simes and Captain Blaine to the simple fact that they were dead. Walther nodded. "Then you know what we want of you?"

"I think so, sir. You want to raise the ship, so you want me to astrogate." He hesitated. "I suppose I can."

"Mmm ... yes. But that's not all."

"Sir?"

"You must be Captain."

All three had their eyes fixed on him. Max felt lightheaded and for a moment wondered what was wrong. Their faces seemed to swell and then recede. He realized vaguely that he had had little to eat and almost no sleep for many hours and had been running on nerve--yes, that must be what was wrong with him. From a long distance away he heard Walther's voice: "... utterly necessary to leave this planet without delay. Now our legal position is clear. In space, only an astrogation officer may command. You are being asked to assume command responsibility while very young but you are the only qualified person-- therefore you _must_ do it."

Max pulled himself together, the wavering figures came into focus. "Mr. Walther?"

"Yes?"

"But I'm not an astrogator. I'm just a probationary apprentice.

Chief Engineer Compagnon answered him. "Kelly says you're an astrogator," he growled.

"Kelly is more of an astrogator than I am!"

Compagnon shook his head. "You can't pass judgment on yourself." Samuels nodded agreement.

"Let's dispose of that," Walther added. "There is no question of the Chief Computerman becoming captain. Nor does your rank in your guild matter. Line of command, underway, necessarily is limited to astrogators. You are senior in that line, no matter how junior you feel. At this moment, I hold command--until I pass it on. But I can't take a ship into space. If you refuse ... well, I don't know what we will have to do. I don't know."

Max gulped and said, "Look, sir, I'm not refusing duty. I'll astrogate--shucks, I suppose it's all right to call me the astrogator, under the circumstances. But there is no reason to pretend that I'm captain. You stay in command while I conn the ship. That's best, sir--I wouldn't know how to _act_ like a captain."

Walther shook his head. "Not legally possible."

Compagnon added, "I don't care about the legalities. But I know that responsibility can't be divided. Frankly, young fellow, I'd rather have Dutch as skipper than you--but he can't astrogate. I'd be delighted to have Doc Hendrix--but he's gone. I'd rather hold the sack myself than load it on you--but I'm a physicist and I know just enough of the math of astrogation to know that I couldn't in a lifetime acquire the speed that an astrogator _has_ to have. Not my temperament. Kelly says you've got it already. I've shipped with Kelly a good many years, I trust him. So it's your pidgin, son; you've got to take it--and the authority that goes with it. Dutch will help--we'll all help--but you can't duck out and hand him the sack."

Mr. Samuels said quietly, "I don't agree with the Chief Engineer about the unimportance of legal aspects; most of these laws have wise reasons behind them. But I agree with what else he says. Mr. Jones, a ship is not just steel, it is a delicate political entity. Its laws and customs cannot be disregarded without inviting disaster. It will be far easier to maintain morale and discipline in this ship with a young captain--with all his officers behind him--than it would be to let passengers and crew suspect that the man who must make the crucial decisions, those life-and-death matters involving the handling of the ship, that this all-powerful man nevertheless can't be trusted to command the ship. No, sir, such a situation would frighten me; that is how mutinies are born."

Max felt his heart pounding, his head was aching steadily. Walther looked at him grimly and said, "Well?"

"I'll take it." He added, "I don't see what else I can do."

Walther stood up. "What are your orders, Captain?"

Max sat still and tried to slow his heart. He pressed his fingers to throbbing temples and looked frightened. "Uh, continue with routine. Make preparations to raise ship."

"Aye aye, sir." Walther paused, then added, "May I ask when the Captain plans to raise ship?"

He was having trouble focusing again. "When? Not before tomorrow--tomorrow at noon. I've got to have a night's sleep." He thought to himself that Kelly and he could throw it into a parking orbit, which would get them away from the centaurs--then stop to figure out his next move.

"I think that's wise, sir. We need the time."

Compagnon stood up. "If the Captain will excuse me, sir, I'll get my department started."

Samuels joined him. "Your cabin is ready, sir--I'll have your personal effects moved in in a few minutes."

Max stared at him. He had not yet assimilated the side implications of his new office. Use Captain Blaine's holy of holies? Sleep in his bed? "Uh, I don't think that's necessary. I'm comfortable where I am."

Samuels glanced at the First Officer, then said, "If you please, Captain, this is one of the things I was talking about when I said that a ship is a delicate political entity."

"Eh?" Max thought about it, then suddenly felt both the burden descend on him and the strength to meet it. "Very well," he answered, his voice deepening. "Do it."

"Yes, sir." Samuels looked at him. "Also, Captain--if you wish it--I'll have Lopez stop in and trim your hair."

Max pushed locks back of his ear. "It _is_ shaggy, isn't it? Very well."

The Purser and the Chief Engineer left. Max stood for a moment uncertainly, not sure what his next cue was in this new role. Walther said, "Captain? Can you spare me a few more minutes?"

"Oh, certainly." They sat down and Walther poured more coffee. Max said, "Mr. Walther? Do you suppose we could ring the pantry and get some toast? I haven't eaten today."

"Why, surely! Sorry, sir." Instead of ringing, the First Officer phoned and ordered a high tea. Then he turned to Max. "Captain, I didn't give you all the story--nor did I wish to until we were alone."