The other was a maiden, untrained and wild as a mutie. Hugh could not have told himself why he picked her. Certainly she had no virtues, but she made him feel funny. She had bitten him while he was inspecting her; he had slapped her, naturally, and that should have been an end to the matter. But he sent word back later for her father to send her along.
He had not got around to naming her.
Metrical time caused him as much mental confusion as astronomical distances, but no emotional upset The trouble was again the lack of the concept in the Ship. The Crew had the notion of topological time; they understood "now," "before," "after," "has been," "will be," even such notions as long time and short time, but the notion of measured time had dropped out of the culture. The lowest of earthbound cultures has some idea of measured time, even if limited to days and seasons, but every earthly concept of measured time originates in astronomical phenomena; the Crew had been insulated from all astronomical phenomena for uncounted generations.
Hugh had before him, on the control consoles, the only working timepieces in the Ship, but it was a long, long time before he grasped what they were for and what bearing they had on other instruments. But until did, he could not control the Ship. Speed, and its derivatives, acceleration and flexure, are based on measured time.
But when these two new concepts were finally grasped, chewed over, and ancient books reread in the light of these concepts, he was, in a greatly restricted and theoretical sense, an astrogator.
Hugh sought out Joe-Jim to ask him a question. Joe-Jim's minds were brilliantly penetrating when he cared to exert himself; he remained a superficial dilettante because he rarely cared.
Hugh found Narby just leaving. In order to conduct the campaign of pacification of the muties it had been necessary for Narby and Joe-Jim to confer frequently; to their mutual surprise they got along well together. Narby was a capable administrator, able to delegate authority and not given to useless elbow jogging; Joe-Jim surprised and pleased Narby by being more able than any subordinate he had ever dealt with before. There was no love wasted. between them, but each recognized in the other both intelligence and a hard self-interest which matched his own. There was respect and grudging contemptuous liking.
"Good eating, Captain," Hugh greeted Narby formally.
"Oh, hello, Hugh," Narby answered, then turned back to Joe-Jim. "I'll expect a report, then."
"You'll get it," Joe agreed. "There can't be more than a few dozen stragglers. We'll hunt them out, or starve them."
"Am I butting in?" Hugh asked.
"No, I'm just leaving. How goes the great work, my dear fellow?" He smiled irritatingly.
"Well enough, but slowly. Do you wish a report?"
"No hurry. Oh, by the bye, I've made the Control Room and Main Drive, in fact the entire level of no-weight, taboo for everyone, muties and Crew alike."
"So? I see your point, I guess. There is no need for any but officers to go up there."
"You don't understand me. It is a general taboo, applying to officers as well. Not to ourselves, of course."
"But . .. but, that won't work. The only effective way to convince the officers of the truth is to take them up and show them the stars!"
"That's exactly my point. I can't have any officers upset by disturbing ideas while I am consolidating my administration. It will, create religious differences and impair discipline."
Hugh was too upset and astounded to answer at once. "But," he said at last, "but that's the point. That's why you were made Captain."
"And as Captain I will have to be the final judge of policy. The matter is closed. You are not to take anyone to the Control Room, nor any part of no-weight, until I deem it advisable. You'll have to wait."
"It's a good idea, Hugh," Jim commented. "We shouldn't stir things up while we've got a war to attend to."
"Let me get this straight," Hugh persisted. "You mean this is a temporary policy?"
"You could put it that way."
"Well, all right," Hugh conceded. "But wait -- Ertz and I need to train assistants at once."
"Very well. Nominate them to me and I'll pass on them. Whom do you have in mind?"
Hugh thought. He did not actually need assistance himself; although the Control Room contained acceleration chairs for half a dozen, one man, seated in the chief astrogator's chair, could pilot the Ship. The same applied to Ertz in the Main Drive station, save in one respect. "How about Ertz? He needs porters to move mass to the Main Drive."
"Let him. I'll sign the writing. See that he uses porters from the former muties; but no one goes to the Control Room save those who have been there before." Narby turned and left with an air of dismissal.
Hugh watched him leave, then said, "I don't like this, Joe-Jim."
"Why not?" Jim asked. "It's reasonable."
"Perhaps it is. But ... well, damn it! It seems to me, somehow, that truth ought to be free to anyone, any time!" He threw up his hands in a gesture of baffled exasperation.
Joe-Jim looked at him oddly. "What a curious idea," said Joe.
"Yeah, I know. It's not common sense, but it seems like it ought to be. Oh, well, forget it! That's not what I came to see you about."
"What's on your mind, Bud?"
"How do we ... Look, we finish the Trip, see? We've got the Ship touching a planet, like this--" He brought his two fists together.
"Yes. Go on."
"Well, when that's done, how do we get out of the Ship?"
The twins looked confused, started to argue between themselves. Finally Joe interrupted his brother. "Wait a bit, Jim. Let's be logical about this. It was intended for us to get out; that implies a door, doesn't it?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"There's no door up here. It must be down in high weight."
"But it isn't," objected Hugh. "All that country is known. There isn't any door. It has to be up in mutie country."
"In that case," Joe continued, "it should be either all the way forward, or all the way aft, otherwise it would not go anywhere. It isn't aft. There's nothing back of Main Drive but solid bulkheads. It would need to be forward."
"That's silly," Jim commented. "There's the Control Room and the Captain's veranda. That's all."
"Oh, yeah? How about the locked compartments?"
"Those aren't doors, not to the Outside anyway. Just bulkheads abaft the Control Room."
"No, stupid, but they might lead to doors."
"Stupid, eh? Even so, how are you going to open them; answer me that, bright boy?"
"What," demanded Hugh, "are the 'locked compartments'?"
"Don't you know? There are seven doors, spaced on the main shaft in the same bulkhead as the door to Main Control Room. We've never been able to open them."
"Well, maybe that's what we're looking for. Let's see!"
"It's a waste of time," Jim insisted. But they went.