Ignoring Lesbee's dumbfounded reaction, he went on, 'Our problem is to make sure that we don't do anything that might arouse suspicion. That means everybody, including you, should carry on as always. What do you normally do when you leave the bridge?'

'I go to my quarters and wash up,' said Lesbee, truthfully.

He was beginning to recover from the enormous shock of the other man's pronouncement. He grew aware that he was in a state of anguish, and that amazingly what he felt was an awful anxiety that 'these fools' – he muttered the words under his breath – would somehow mess up their mutiny, and this mad voyage would continue on into infinity. As he realized his instant sympathy with the rebels, Lesbee swallowed, and abruptly felt confused.

Before he could recover, Ganarette said reluctantly, 'All right – but I'll go with you.'

'Maybe it'd be better if I skipped going home,' said Lesbee doubtfully.

'And have your father become suspicious! Nothing doing!'

Lesbee was uneasy. He was, he realized, falling in with the plot. He sensed unknown dangers in that direction. Yet the emotion that had broken through from a hidden depth of his being, was still driving him on. He said in a conspiratorial tone, 'That would be preferable to having him wonder what I'm doing with you. He doesn't like you.'

'Oh, he doesn't!' Ganarette sounded belligerent, but suddenly he looked unsure of himself. 'All right, we'll go straight down to the theater. But remember what I said. Watch yourself. Be as surprised as the others, but be prepared to step in and take command.'

He impulsively put his hand on Lesbee's arm. 'We've got to win,' he said. 'My God, we've got to.'

As they went down into the ship a minute later, Lesbee found that he was somehow tightening his muscles, bracing himself as for a struggle.