"But where do you figure? You came to help him?"
"Hardly. I was standing at a safe distance, enjoying the festivities, when I noticed Mr. Walther's bedroom slippers coming down the ladder. Whereupon I waded in and was prominent in the ending. The way to win a medal, Max, is to make sure the general is watching, then act."
Max grinned. "Somehow I hadn't figured you for the hero type."
"Heaven forbid! But it worked out. Mr. Walther sent for me, ate me out, told me that I was a scoundrel and a thief and a nogoodnick--then offered me my shield back if I could keep order below decks. I looked him in the eye, a sincere type look, and told him I would do my best. So here I am."
"I'm mighty pleased, Sam."
"Thanks. Then he looked me in the eye and told me that he had reason to suspect--as if he didn't know!-- that there might be a still somewhere in the ship. He ordered me to find it, and then destroy any liquor I found."
"So? How did Mr. Gee take that?"
"Why, Fats and I disassembled his still and took the pieces back to stores, then we locked up his stock in trade. I pleaded with him not to touch it until the ship was out of its mess. I explained that I would break both his arms if he did."
Max chuckled. "Well, I'm glad you're back in good graces. And it was nice of you to come tell me about it." He yawned. "Sorry. I'm dead for sleep."
"I'll vamoose. But I didn't come to tell you, I came to ask a question."
"Huh? What?"
"Have you seen the Skipper lately?"
Max thought back. "Not since transition. Why?"
"Nor has anyone else. I thought he might be spending his time in the Worry Hole."
"No. Come to think, he hasn't been at his table either--at least when I've been in the lounge."
"He's been eating in his cabin." Sam stood up. "Very, very interesting. Mmm ... I wouldn't talk about it, Max."
Simes was monosyllabic when Max relieved him. Thereafter they had no more words; Simes acted as if Max did not exist except for the brief formalities in relieving. The Captain did not show up in the control room. Several times Max was on the point of asking Kelly about it, but each time decided not to. But there were rumors around the ship--the Captain was sick, the Captain was in a coma, Walther and the Surgeon had relieved him of duty, the Captain was constantly at his desk, working out a new and remarkable way to get the ship back to where it belonged.
By now it was accepted that the ship was lost, but the time for hysteria had passed; passengers and crew were calm and there seemed to be general consent that the decision to put down around the solar-type star toward which they were headed was the only reasonable decision. They were close enough now that it had been determined that the star did have planets-- no G-class star had ever been found to be without planets, but to pick them up on a stereoplate was consoling.
It came to a choice between planet #3 and planet #4. Bolometric readings showed the star to have a surface temperature slightly over 6000° Kelvin, consistent with its spectrum; it was not much larger than Father Sol; calculated surface temperatures for the third and fourth planets gave a probability that the third might be uncomfortably hot whereas number four might be frigid. Both had atmospheres.
A fast hyperboloid swing past both settled the matter. The bolometer showed number three to be too hot and even number four to be tropical. Number four had a moon which the third did not--another advantage for four, for it permitted, by examining the satellite's period, an easy calculation of its mass; from that and its visible diameter its surface gravity was a matter of substitution in classic Newtonian formula ... ninety-three percent of Earth-normal, comfortable and rather low in view of its over ten-thousand-mile diameter. Absorption spectra showed oxygen and several inert gases.
Simes assisted by Kelly placed the _Asgard_ in a pole-to-pole orbit to permit easy examination--Max, as usual, was left to chew his nails.
The Captain did not come to the control room even to watch this maneuver.
They hung in parking orbit while their possible future home was examined from the control room and stared at endlessly from the lounge. It was in the lounge that Ellie tracked Max down. He had hardly seen her during the approach, being too busy and too tired with a continuous heel-and-toe watch and in the second place with much on his mind that he did not want to have wormed out of him. But, once the orbit was established and power was off, under standard doctrine Simes could permit the watch to be taken by crewmen--which he did and again told Max to stay out of the control room.
Max could not resist the fascination of staring at the strange planet; he crowded into the lounge along with the rest. He was standing back and gazing over heads when he felt his arm grabbed. "Where have you been?"
"Working." He reached out and caressed Chipsie; the spider puppy leaped to his shoulders and started searching him.
"Hmmmph! You don't work all the time. Do you know that I sent _nine_ notes to your room this past week?"
Max knew. He had saved them but had not answered. "Sorry."
"Sorry he says. Never mind-- Max, tell me all about it." She turned and looked out. "What have they named it? Is there anybody on it? Where are we going to land? _When_ are we going to land? Max, aren't you _excited?_"
"Whew! They haven't named it yet--we just call it 'the planet' or 'number four.' Kelly wants to name it 'Hendrix.' Simes is hedging; I think he wants to name it after himself. The Captain hasn't made any decision that I know of."
"They ought to name it 'Truth' or 'Hope' or something like that. Where is the Captain, Max? I haven't seen the old dear for _days_."
"He's working. This is a busy time for him, of course." Max reflected that his evasion might be true. "About your other questions, we haven't seen any signs of cities or towns or anything that looks like civilization."
"What do you mean by 'civilization'? Not a lot of dirty old cities surely?"
Max scratched his head and grinned. "You've got me. But I don't see how you could have it, whatever it is, without cities."
"Why not? Bees have cities, ants have cities, challawabs have cities. None of them is civilized. I can think of a lovely civilization that would just sit around in trees and sing and think beautiful thoughts."
"Is that what you want?"
"No, it would bore me to death. But I can think about it, can't I? You didn't say when we were going to land?"
"I don't know. When they decide it's safe."
"I wish they would hurry. Isn't it thrilling? Just likeRobinson Crusoe, or Swiss Family Robinson--I can't keep those two straight. Or the first men on Venus."
"They died."
"So they did. But we won't, not on--" She waved her hand at the lovely green and blue and cloudy-white globe. "--not on, uh, I'm going to call it 'Charity' because that's what it looks like."
Max said soberly, "Ellie, don't you realize this is serious?" He kept his voice low in order not to alarm others. "This isn't a picnic. If this place doesn't work out, it might be pretty awful."
"Why?"
"Look, don't quote me and don't talk about it. But I don't think any of us will ever get home again."
She sobered momentarily, then shrugged and smiled. "You can't frighten me. Sure, I'd like to go home--but if I can't, well, Charity is going to be good to us. I know it."
Max shut up.