"Captain Groves won't let them turn the ship back," Janet Sibley mumbled. She wiped her eyes with her drenched handkerchief. "He has a cupboard full of guns up there."
Janet Sibley moaned wretchedly. "I hate that dirty old boarding-house——" Her misery welled up in an agonizing flood. "I just can't go back!"
"How long did you live there?" Mary asked her.
"Eighteen years."
"Eighteen years ago I was just learning to walk."
"You're young and attractive," Janet Sibley quavered. "You can go anywhere. You don't know what it's like to sit in a filthy little room, just sitting and waiting."
"When did you join the Society?"
"I've sent a little money to the Society as long as I can remember. But I never went to any of the meetings. They sent me pamphlets, and I studied Mr. Preston's books. Then one day Mr. Cartwright came to see me. He couldn't talk me into going to a meeting; I was too afraid. But later on Captain Groves came and talked to me, because he was club leader for the Hill area where I lived. So I came. That was three years ago. And then Mr. Cartwright instructed me the other day to bring my things and not say anything to anybody."
Janet Sibley ceased talking; Larry Thompson and Louise Tyler were listening.
Thompson gazed down at the old woman. His blue eyes were blank with shock, the eyes of a terrified boy suddenly faced with age and death and poverty.
Louise reached up and brushed the boy's blond hair back. "What planet was it, Larry."
"They went to Ganymede."
"Would you like to tell me—what those altereds are like?"
He made a jerky gesture. "The air's thin. About like Mars. Huge bladder-lungs. Spindly little legs." He shuddered. "Everybody in my family went, but me. Better to be dead!"
"Suppose we had children after we reached the Disc? They wouldn't be like Earth children. We'd change, too. The Disc is going to create altereds."
Thompson's mouth twitched violently. "I wouldn't have children that were monsters. If I'd met you before this trip started——"
"You can't raise a family on Earth! There're no jobs, nothing. Why do you think people go to work-camps? Or to squatters' colonies? Spawning monsters—but at least they're alive."
"Have you ever seen them?"
"Yes, I've seen them. I'm older than you... I was married once before. Bob and I signed on for a work-camp on Venus. Bob got fungoid spores in his lungs the first week. He swelled up and split open in front of my eyes. I came back to Earth."
"I didn't know," Thompson said.
Louise indicated her neck. "You don't see any luck charms there, do you? I knew they don't help; they're not the answer."
Thompson grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Then what is?"
Louise pulled away from him. "You're bright. And you're young. Maybe you could pass one of the Quizzes, if you had help. Every year a few hundred young men like you win classifications. And Cartwright's Quizmaster now. That might help."
"How did you vote?" Thompson shouted at her. "Good God, did you vote to go back?"
"I didn't vote. I'm just waiting."
Ralf Butler nodded curtly, and Nat Gardner moved forward. Butler and Paul Flood stood together watching tensely. Behind them Jack McLean remained warily in the doorway of the control bubble.
"This won't take long, Captain," Gardner said shyly. He was grimy and sweaty, straight from the reactor chambers where he had been going over the pipes to the firing jets.
Groves laid down his navigation instruments and removed his glasses. "Well?" he demanded. "What do you want? You seem to be the spokesman."
Jack McLean spoke up, confident and unhampered. "Captain, we're heading back home."
There was silence. The baldness of the statement had shocked everyone, including Butler. He glared angrily at McLean; the salesman shrugged and moved away.
"What's this about a vote?" Groves asked. "Konklin tells me you took some sort of vote and removed Cartwright. He tells me you replaced him with that." Groves indicated the sloppy, food-stained figure of Dr. Flood.
"Look at it this way, Captain," Gardner went on quickly, flushed and embarrassed. "There's no reason for this trip, now. Not with Cartwright as Quizmaster. Is there?" Gardner's voice was humble, pleading, and he glanced round nervously for support. "Cartwright didn't know he was going to become One."
"He knew before we took off," Groves said.
Gardner blinked uncertainly. "Let's get back to Earth where things are happening. We made Flood President of the Society, and his orders are to turn back."
"That's right," Flood said quietly, his pulpy fingers fiddling aimlessly with the lapel of his coat. "You're under orders to me, Groves."
Groves didn't respond. His massive face was thoughtful as he mulled over what Konklin had told him and what he had decided on his own. He said finally: "If you try to interfere with the course of the ship I'll lock you all up."
"If you don't turn back," Flood said, "we'll put somebody else up here."
"Who?" Groves challenged.
Butler answered, as Flood had momentarily floundered. "All we do is signal the base at Pluto for a patrol ship to grapple us down."
It was true, Groves realized. If he didn't turn the ship it would be in Verrick's hands in a matter of hours. He moved towards the door.
"Where're you going?" Flood demanded excitedly.
"To the hold. I want to know if a vote was really taken." Groves started along the corridor; the delegation streamed after him.
"Consider!" Flood gasped, "with Cartwright Quizmaster we can explore officially, and on a vast scale."
"If a Directorate finds the Disc," Groves pointed out, "it will belong to the Directorate and not to us." He halted at the entrance hatch of the cargo hold. "Konklin," he called.
Konklin pushed through the delegation.
Groves pondered, his face distorted in concentration. "I can take your word. Did they really take a vote?"
Konklin wanted to scream. Of course they hadn't taken a real vote! Only a faked, strong-arm vote, with a gun, knives and fists. He opened his mouth—but the muzzle of Butler's gun glinted. They were watching him: Butler, McLean, Flood, all with the same confident look.
"That's right," Konklin croaked, courage leaking out of him. "They took a vote."
Groves nodded. "If the majority wants to turn back," he said slowly, "then maybe we ought to give this thing up."
Groves entered the cargo hold. Listless shapes were watching him. Silent and unmoving, they waited.
Groves said to Butler: "We'll return the way we came. We'll deal with the Directorate and no one else."
Butler said easily: "You can set her down at Batavia. We'll send no signals."
Groves turned to the waiting grey shapes. "Because of your vote we're going back. You're the Society; if the Society has made up its mind to go back, that's it."
One of the Japanese optical workers approached Captain Groves. He bowed and straightened up again.
"Captain," he said in a reedy tenor, "I suggest a vote be taken in your presence. The results Mr. Butler obtained——"
Butler smashed the Japanese in the face. The little man's spectacles broke and shattered and he slid back, a suddenly crumpled doll. Butler snatched out his gun and spun towards Groves. He fumbled wildly for the switch as Groves reached into his own leather jacket.
Aiming calmly, Groves shot Butler's head to fragments.