a drive man, I'm an administrator, and organizer and
director. You're the technicians. The truth now could save you much
unhappiness--in the future."

Sabo stood up heavily. "You've got your information," he said with a
bitter laugh. "The patrol craft will confirm it."

The captain's face went a shade grayer. "All right," he said. "Go ahead,
laugh. I told you, anyway."

Sabo didn't realize how his hands were trembling until he reached the
end of the corridor. In despair he saw the plan crumbling beneath his
feet, and with the despair came the cold undercurrent of fear. The
patrol would discover them, disclose the hoax. There was no choice
left--ready or not, they'd _have_ to leave.

Quickly he turned in to the central control room where Brownie was
working. He sat down, repeating the captain's news in a soft voice.

"An _hour_! But how can we--"

"We've _got_ to. We can't quit now, we're dead if we do."

Brownie's eyes were wide with fear. "But can't we stall them, somehow?
Maybe if we turned on the captain--"

"The crew would back him. They wouldn't dare go along with us. We've got
to run, nothing else." He took a deep breath. "Can you control the
drive?"

Brownie stared at his hands. "I--I think so. I can only try."

"You've got to. It's now or never. Get down to the lock, and I'll get
the charts. Get the sleds ready."

He scooped the charts from his bunk, folded them carefully and bound
them swiftly with cord. Then he ran silently down the corridor to the
landing port lock. Brownie was already there, in the darkness, closing
the last clamps on his pressure suit. Sabo handed him the charts, and
began the laborious task of climbing into his own suit, panting in the
darkness.

And then the alarm was clanging in his ear, and the lock was flooded
with brilliant light. Sabo stopped short, a cry on his lips, staring at
the entrance to the control room.

The captain was grinning, a nasty, evil grin, his eyes hard and
humorless as he stood there flanked by three crewmen. His hand gripped
an ugly power gun tightly. He just stood there, grinning, and his voice
was like fire in Sabo's ears. "Too bad," he said softly. "You almost
made it, too. Trouble is, two can't keep a secret. Shame, Johnny, a
smart fellow like you. I might have expected as much from Brownie, but I
thought you had more sense--"

Something snapped in Sabo's mind, then. With a roar, he lunged at the
captain's feet, screaming his bitterness and