He tried to break her apathy with sharpness: “What of that? On Beta Three, the maser would have brought us words a generation old. Nothing else. And our individual deaths would have closed us off from the universe. The common fate of man. Why should we whine if ours takes an unexpected shape?”

She regarded him gravely before she told him, “You don’t really want an answer for yourself. You want to pull one out of me.”

Startled, he said, “Well… yes.”

“You understand people better than you let on. Your business, no doubt. You tell me what our trouble is.”

“Loss of control over life,” he replied at once. “The crew aren’t in such bad condition yet. They have their jobs. But the scientists, like you, had vowed themselves to Beta Virginis. They had heroic, exciting work to look forward to, and meanwhile their preparations to make. Now they’ve no idea what will happen. They know just that it’ll be something altogether unpredictable. That it may be death— because we are taking frightful risks— and they can do nothing to help, only sit passive and be carried. Of course their morale cracks.”

“What do you think we should do, Charles?”

“Well, in your case, for instance, why not continue your work? Eventually we’ll be searching for a world to settle on. Planetology will be vital to us.”

“You’re aware what the odds are against that. We are going to keep on this devil’s hunt until we die.”

“Damnation, we can improve the odds!”

“How?”

“That’s one of the things you ought to be working on.”

She smiled again, a little more alive. “Charles, you make me want to. If for no other reason than to make you stop flogging at me. Is that why you are so tough with the others?”

He considered her. “You’ve borne up better than most thus far,” he said. “It might help you get back your purpose if I share what I’m doing with you. Can you keep a trade secret?”

Her glance actually danced. “You should know me that well by now.” One bare foot rubbed across his thigh.

He patted it and chuckled. “An old principle,” he said. “Works in military and paramilitary organizations. I’ve been applying it here. The human animal wants a father-mother image but, at the same time, resents being disciplined. You can get stability like this: The ultimate authority-source is kept remote, godlike, practically unapproachable. Your immediate superior is a mean son of a bitch who makes you toe the mark and whom you therefore detest. But his own superior is as kind and sympathetic as rank allows. Do you follow me?”

She laid a finger to her temple. “Not really.”

“Take our present situation. You’d never guess how I juggled, those first few months after we hit the nebulina. I don’t claim credit for the whole development. A lot of it was natural, almost inevitable. The logic of our problem brought it about, given some nursing by me. The end result is that Captain Telander’s been isolated. His infallibility doesn’t have to cope with essentially unfixable human messes like the one today.”