Lesbee freed himself from the clamping fingers. He was disturbed. It was more than a year since he had heard that kind of talk from any of the younger folk. Ever since his father initiated the lectures on the importance of this, the second voyage to Alpha Centauri, the wilder spirits among the young people had quieted down.

Ganarette seemed to realize that his action had been foolish.

He stepped back with a sheepish grin. Once more he became satiric. He said, 'But of course it would be silly to turn back now when we're only nine years from Centaurus, a mere eighteen years farther from Earth, there and return.'

Lesbee did not ask, return to what? Long ago, most of those aboard had ceased to regard the original purpose of the voyage as having meaning. There was the sun, wasn't there, with no visible change? And so there must be an Earth to return to. Lesbee knew that among the young people his father was considered to be an old fool who dared not go back to face the ridicule of his fellow scientists. The pride of this foolish old man was continuing to force a shipload of people to spend the equivalent of a normal lifetime in space. Lesbee had often felt the horror at such a prospect that Ganarette was now expressing, and he could not help but share some of the condemnation of his father.

Trembling, he looked at his watch. He was relieved to see that it was time to switch on the automatic pilot. His duty period was over. He turned, manipulated the control switches, counted the lights that went on, cross-checked with the two physicists in the engine room, and then, as he always did, made a second count of the lights. They were still exactly right. For twelve hours now, electronic machinery would guide the ship. Then Carson would assume the watch for six hours. The first officer would be followed, after twelve more hours, by the second officer who, in turn, would be succeeded by Browne, the third officer. And then, when still another twelve hours of automatic flight had gone by, it would be his turn again.