"None of those mission objectives involves us ever coming back to Earth. The optimum scenario for Earth is that we go through the wormhole, Skippy shuts it down behind us, and the Dutchman immediately explodes into a billion pieces." I looked at Brenner, and he didn't tell me I was wrong about that, so I continued. "If by some miracle Skippy locates the Collective, and gets, uh, transported up to computer heaven or whatever he thinks will happen," Skippy had been frustratingly silent on his plans after contacting the Collective, "then we will have a hell of a challenge trying to operate or navigate the Dutchman. We'll likely be stranded in space, and I will have to order the ship to self destruct in order to avoid us being captured someday. So," I looked Brenner in the eye again, knowing he had made decisions, given orders, that had sent men to their deaths in combat before, "I don't want to take along any more people than we absolutely need."

"Everyone on that list is a volunteer, and you need a substantial force, because you have no idea what you'll encounter out there."

"Volunteers who think this is a grand adventure, that we are going to save humanity, and come back loaded with knowledge and technology." I shook my head. "We are going to save humanity. That's all we're doing. I'll do my duty, sir, even if I never come back. There's no point asking," I glanced at the list again, "seventy other people to take the same risk."

"Bishop," this time there wasn't a hint of smile on Brenner's lips, "being in command means risking people's lives to achieve the mission objectives. Sometimes it means sending people, good, dedicated, brave people, into situations where they're likely to not come back. If you can't do that, you're not the right man for the job."