"What do you mean?" inquired Hoyland.
"Can you picture the present Captain carrying out these plans?"
Ertz saw what he was driving at, and so did Hoyland vaguely.
"Go on," said Ertz.
"Who is to be the new Captain?" Narby looked squarely at Ertz.
Ertz had not thought the matter through; he realized now that the question was very pertinent, if the coup d'etat was not to be followed by a bloody scramble for power. He had permitted himself to dream of being selected as Captain, sometime. But he knew that Narby was pointed that way, too.
Ertz had been as honestly struck by the romantic notion of moving the Ship as Hoyland. He realized that his old ambition stood in the way of the plan; he renounced the old with only a touch of wistfulness.
"You will have to be Captain, Fin. Are you willing to be?"
Phineas Narby accepted gracefully. "I suppose so, if that's the way you want it. You would make a fine Captain, yourself, Ertz."
Ertz shook his head, understanding perfectly that Narby's full cooperation turned on this point. "I'll continue Chief Engineer. I want to handle the Main Drive of the Trip."
"Slow down!" Joe interrupted. "I don't agree to this. Why should he be Captain?"
Narby faced him. "Do you want to be Captain?" He kept his voice carefully free of sarcasm. A mutie for Captain!
"Huff's name, no! But why should you be? Why not Ertz or Hugh?"
"Not me," Hugh disclaimed. "I'll have no time for administration. I'm the astrogator."
"Seriously, Joe-Jim," Ertz explained, "Narby is the one of the group who can get the necessary cooperation out of the Ship's officers."
"Damn it, if they won't cooperate we can slit their throats."
"With Narby as Captain we won't have to slit throats."
"I don't like it," groused Joe. His brother shushed, "Why get excited about it, Joe? Jordan knows we don't want the responsibility."
"I quite understand your misgivings," Narby suggested suavely, "but I don't think you need worry. I would forced to depend on you, of course, to administer the muties. I would administer the lower decks, a job I am used to and you would be Vice-Captain, if you are willing serve, for the muties. It would be folly for me to attempt to administer directly a part of the Ship I'm not familiar with and people whose customs I don't know. I really can't accept the captaincy unless you are willing to help me in that fashion. Will you do it?"
"I don't want any part of it," protested Joe.
"I'm sorry. Then I must refuse to be Captain. I really can't undertake it if you won't help me that much."
"Oh, go ahead, Joe," Jim insisted. "Let's take it, for the time being at least. The job has to be done."
"All right," Joe capitulated, "but I don't like it."
Narby ignored the fact that Joe-Jim had not specifically agreed to Narby's elevation to the captaincy; no further mention was made of it.
The discussion of ways and means was tedious and need not be repeated. It was agreed that Ertz, Alan, and Narby should all return to their usual haunts and occupations while preparations were made to strike.
Hugh detailed a guard to see them safely down to high-weight. "You'll send Alan up when you are ready?" he said to Narby as they were about to leave.
"Yes," Narby agreed, "but don't expect him soon. Ertz and I will have to have time to feel out friends, and there's the matter of the old Captain. I'll have to persuade him to call a meeting of all the Ship's officers; he's never too easy to handle."
"Well, that's your job. Good eating!"
"Good eating."
On the few occasions when the scientist priests who ruled the Ship under Jordan's Captain met in full assembly they gathered in a great hall directly above the Ship's offices on the last civilized deck. Forgotten generations past, before the time of the mutiny led by Ship's Metalsmith Roy Huff, the hall had been a gymnasium, a place for fun and healthy exercise, as planned by the designers of the great starship; but the present users knew nothing of that.
Narby watched the roster clerk check off the Ship's Officers as they arrived, worried under a bland countenance. There were only a few more to arrive; he would soon have no excuse not to notify the Captain that the meeting was ready, but he had received no word from Joe-Jim and Hoyland. Had that fool Alan managed to get himself killed on the way up to deliver the word? Had he fallen and broken his worthless neck? Was he dead with a mutie's knife in his belly?
Ertz came in, and before seeking his seat among the department heads, went up to where Narby sat in front of the Captain's chair. "How about it?" he inquired softly.
"All right," Narby told him, "but no word yet."
"Hm-m-m." Ertz turned around and assayed his support in the crowd. Narby did likewise. Not a majority, not a certain majority, for anything as drastic as this. Still, the issue would not depend on voting.
The roster clerk touched his arm. "All present, sir, except those excused for sickness, and one on watch at the Converter."
Narby directed that the Captain be notified, with a sick feeling that something had gone wrong. The Captain, as usual, with complete disregard for the comfort and convenience of others, took his time about appearing. Narby was glad of the delay, but miserable in enduring it. When the old man finally waddled in, flanked by his orderlies, and settled heavily into his chair, he was, again as usual, impatient to get the meeting over. He waved for the others to be seated and started in on Narby.
"Very well, Commander Narby, let's have the agenda. You have an agenda, I hope?"
"Yes, Captain, there is an agenda."
"Then have it read, man, have it read! Why are you delaying?"
"Yes, sir." Narby turned to the reading clerk and handed him a sheaf of writings. The clerk glanced at them, looked puzzled, but, receiving no encouragement from Narby, commenced to read: "Petition, to Council and Captain: Lieutenant Braune, administrator of the village of Sector 9, being of frail health and advanced age, prays that he be relieved of all duty and retired." The clerk continued, setting forth the recommendations of the officers and departments concerned.
The Captain twisted impatiently in his chair, finally interrupted the reading. "What is this, Narby? Can't you handle routine matters without all this fuss?"
"I understood that the Captain was displeased with the fashion in which a similar matter was lately handled. I have no wish to trespass on the Captain's prerogatives."
"Nonsense, man! Don't read Regulations to me. Let the Council act, then bring their decision to me for review."
"Yes, sir." Narby took the writing from the clerk and gave him another. The clerk read.
It was an equally fiddling matter. Sector 3 village, because of an unexplained blight which had infected their hydroponic farms, prayed for relief and a suspension of taxes. The Captain put up with still less of this item before interrupting. Narby would have been sorely pressed for any excuse to continue the meeting had not the word he awaited arrived at that moment. It was a mere scrap of parchment, brought in from outside the hall by one of his own men. It contained the single word, "Ready." Narby looked at it, nodded to Ertz, and addressed the Captain:
"Sir, since you have no wish to listen to the petitions of your Crew, I will continue at once with the main business of this meeting." The veiled insolence of the statement caused the Captain to stare at him suspiciously, but Narby went on. "For many generations, through the lives of a succession of Witnesses, the Crew has suffered from the depredations of the muties. Our livestock, our children, even our own persons, have been in constant jeopardy. Jordan's Regulations are not honored above the levels where we live. Jordan's Captain himself is not free to travel in the upper levels of the Ship.