He stopped for another sip and Ellie caught his eye, encouraging him. "Perhaps someday other men will come back--better prepared. As for us, I am going to try to take the _Asgard_ back through the ... uh, 'hole' you might call it, where we came out. It's a chancy thing. No one is forced to come along--but it is the only possible way to get home. Anyone who's afraid to chance it will be landed on the north pole of planet number three--the evening star we have been calling 'Aphrodite.' You may be able to survive there, although it is pretty hot even at the poles. If you prefer that alternative, turn your names in this evening to the Purser. The rest of us will try to get home." He stopped, then said suddenly, "That's all," and sat down.

There was no applause and he felt glumly that he had muffed his first appearance. Conversation started up around the room, crewmen left, and steward's mates quickly started serving. Ellie looked at him and nodded quietly. Mrs. Mendoza was on his left; she said, "Ma--I mean 'Captain'--is it really so dangerous? I hardly like the thought of trying anything _risky_. Isn't there something else we can do?"

"No."

"But surely there must be?"

"No. I'd rather not discuss it at the table."

"But ..." He went on firmly spooning soup, trying not to tremble. When he looked up he was caught by a glittering eye across the table, a Mrs. Montefiore, who preferred to be called "Principessa"--a dubious title. "Dolores, don't bother him. We want to hear about his adventures--don't we, Captain?"

"No."

"Come now! I hear that it was terribly _romantic_." She drawled the word and gave Ellie a sly, sidelong look. She looked back at Max with the eye of a predatory bird and showed her teeth. She seemed to have more teeth than was possible. "Tell us _all_ about it!"

"No."

"But you simply _can't_ refuse!"

Eldreth smiled at her and said, "Princess darling-- your mouth is showing."

Mrs. Montefiore shut up.

After dinner Max caught Walther alone. "Mr. Walther?"

"Oh--yes, Captain?"

"Am I correct in thinking that it is my privilege to pick the persons who sit at my table?"

"Yes, sir."

"In that case--that Montefiore female. Will you have her moved, please? Before breakfast?"

Walther smiled faintly. "Aye aye, sir."

21 THE CAPTAIN OF THE ASGARD

They took Sam down and buried him where he had fallen. Max limited it to himself and Walther and Giordano, sending word to Ellie not to come. There was a guard of honor but it was armed to kill and remained spread out around the grave, eyes on the hills. Max read the service in a voice almost too low to be heard--the best he could manage.

Engineering had hurriedly prepared the marker, a pointed slab of stainless metal. Max looked at it before he placed it and thought about the inscription. "Greater love hath no man"?--no, he had decided that Sam wouldn't like that, with his cynical contempt of all sentimentality. He had considered, "He played the cards he was dealt"--but that didn't fit Sam either; if Sam didn't like the cards, he sometimes slipped in a whole new deck. No, this was more Sam's style; he shoved it into the ground and read it:

IN MEMORY OF

SERGEANT SAM ANDERSON

LATE OF THE

IMPERIAL MARINES

"_He ate what was set before him_."

Walther saw the marker for the first time. "So that's how it was? Somehow I thought so."

"Yes. I never did know his right name. Richards. Or maybe Roberts."

"Oh." Walther thought over the implication. "We could get him reinstated, sir, posthumously. His prints will identify him."

"I think Sam would like that."

"I'll see to it, sir, when we get back."

"_If_ we get back."

"If you please, Captain--_when_ we get back."

Max went straight to the control room. He had been up the evening before and had gotten the first shock of being treated as captain in the Worry Hole over with. When Kelly greeted him with, "Good morning, Captain," he was able to be almost casual.

"Morning, Chief. Morning, Lundy."

"Coffee, sir?"

"Thanks. About that parking orbit--is it set up?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Then forget it. I've decided to head straight back. We can plan it as we go. Got the films?"

"I picked them up earlier." They referred to the films cached in Max's stateroom. Simes had managed to do away with the first set at the time of Captain Blaine's death; the reserve set was the only record of when and where the _Asgard_ had emerged into this space, including records of routine sights taken immediately after transition.

"Okay. Let's get busy. Kovak can punch for me."

The others were drifting in, well ahead of time, as was customary in Kelly's gang. "If you wish, sir. I'd be glad to compute for the Captain."

"Kovak can do it. You might help Noguchi and Lundy with the films."

"Aye aye, sir." Data flowed to him presently. He had awakened twice in the night in cold fright that he had lost his unique memory. But when the data started coming, he programmed without effort, appropriate pages opening in his mind. The problem was a short departure to rid themselves of the planet's influence, an adjustment of position to leave the local sun "behind" for simpler treatment of its field, then a long, straight boost for the neighborhood in which they had first appeared in this space. It need not be precise, for transition would not be attempted on the first pass; they must explore the area, taking many more photographic sights and computing from them, to establish a survey that had never been made.

Departure was computed and impressed on tape for the autopilot and the tape placed in the console long before noon. The ship had been keeping house on local time, about fifty-five standard minutes to the hour; now the ship would return to Greenwich, the time always kept in the control room--dinner would be late and some of the "beasts" would as usual reset their watches the wrong way and blame it on the government.

They synchronized with the power room, the tape started running, there remained nothing to do but press the button a few seconds before preset time and thereby allow the autopilot to raise ship. The phone rang, Smythe took it and looked at Max. "For you, Captain. The Purser."

"Captain?" Samuels sounded worried. "I dislike to disturb you in the control room."

"No matter. What is it?"

"Mrs. Montefiore. She wants to be landed on Aphrodite."

Max thought a moment. "Anybody else change his mind?"

"No, sir."

"They were all notified to turn in their names last night."

"I pointed that out to her, sir. Her answers were not entirely logical."

"Nothing would please me more than to dump her there. But after all, we are responsible for her. Tell her no.

"Aye aye, sir. May I have a little leeway in how I express it?"

"Certainly. Just keep her out of my hair."

Max flipped off the phone, found Kelly at his elbow. "Getting close, sir. Perhaps you will take the console now and check the set up? Before you raise?"

"Eh? No, you take her up, Chief. You'll have the first watch."

"Aye aye, Captain." Kelly sat down at the console, Max took the Captain's seat, feeling self-conscious. He wished that he had learned to smoke a pipe--it looked right to have the Captain sit back, relaxed and smoking his pipe, while the ship maneuvered.

He felt a slight pulsation and was pressed more firmly into the chair cushions; the _Asgard_ was again on her own private gravity, independent of true accelerations. Moments later the ship raised, but with nothing to show it but the change out the astrodome from blue sky to star-studded ebony of space.

Max got up and found that he was still holding an imaginary pipe, he hastily dropped it. "I'm going below, Chief. Call me when the departure sights are ready to compute. By the way, what rotation of watches do you plan on?"