, passenger ships didn't bother to carry
parachutes. Result over a period of fifty years: thousands of lives
lost. We'd all be bruised and battered, sir. Bones would be broken.
There might be a few deaths. But I see no other way out, sir."

"Then there was no need to check with me at all, I assure you, Admiral
Stapleton. Do whatever you think is best, sir."

The Admiral nodded gravely. "Thank you, Mr. President. I will say this,
though: we will wait for a miracle."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"Well, I don't expect a miracle, but the switchover to subspace so
suddenly is bound to be dangerous. Therefore, we'll wait until the last
possible moment. It will grow uncomfortably warm, let me warn you, but
as long as the subspace drive is in good working order--"

"I see what you mean, Admiral. You have a free hand, sir; let me repeat
that. I will not interfere in any way and I have the utmost confidence
in you." The President mopped his brow with an already damp
handkerchief. It _was_ growing warm, come to think of it. Uncomfortably
warm.

As if everyone aboard the _Glory of the Galaxy_ was slowly being broiled
alive....

* * * * *

Ackerman Boone entered the crew quarters with the same smile still on
his lips. At first he said nothing, but his silence drew the men like a
magnet draws iron filings. When they had all clustered about him he
spoke.

"The Exec not only chewed my ears off," he boomed. "He all but spit them
in my face! I was right, men. He admitted it to me after he saw how he
couldn't get away with anything in front of Ackerman Boone. Men, we're
heading on collision course with the sun!"

A shocked silence greeted his words and Ackerman Boone, instinctively a
born speaker, paused dramatically to allow each man the private horror
of his own thoughts for a few moments. Then he continued: "The Admiral
figures we have one chance to get out of this alive, men. He figures--"

"What is it, Acky?"

"What will he do?"

"How will the Admiral get us out of this?"

Ackerman Boone spat on the polished, gleaming floor of the crew
quarters. "He'll never get us out alive, let me tell you. He wants to
shift us into subspace at the last possible minute. Suddenly. Like
this--" and Ackerman Boone snapped his fingers.

"There'd be a ship full of broken bones!" someone protested. "We can't
do a thing like that."

"He'll kill us all!" a very young T/3 cried hysterically.

"Not