keep this atomic junk heap headed
in the right direction?"

"What _is_ the correct direction?" asked Ann, squatting down beside him.

"I don't know. We'll have to figure it out, then see if we can point her
that way."

"Let's get up to the bridge," she said.

Schwenky and Maher found them brooding over the series of levers and
buttons which comprised the control board. Schwenky noted their baffled
frowns. His big face took on a worried look. "You fix!" he said. "You
good fellow, Gene. We run ship, let officers go to hell. Yah!"

Maher scratched one patch of greying hair over his left eye. The rest of
his skull was covered with brown bumps like fungus growths. "It's just
possible we'll wreck the ship, let the air out of her or something, if
we experiment," he warned.

"Go get MacNamara," said Gene. "He's been on the ship longer than any of
us. Maybe he'll know."

He didn't. "All I know is grease cups," he reminded Gene.

Hours later eighteen men and four women gathered together in the
recreation room to discuss a plan of action. Everyone had his or her
ideas, but after an hour of wrangling, they got nowhere. Finally Gene
held up a hand and shouted for silence.

"Let's decide who's boss, then follow orders," he said. "If I may be so
bold, how about me?"

"Yah!" said Schwenky. "I do what you say. I like you!"

Old MacNamara grumbled to himself. "Do nothing, I say. We ought to stick
to our duty, and save the lives of those who would have to take our
places...." The unguarded pile had given MacNamara a martyr complex.

Maher looked over at him. "Your idea of sacrifice is all very fine,
MacNamara. But we're not all anxious to die. You know what would happen
now if we gave up!"

Gene spoke up again. "Let me summarize the position we're in--maybe then
we can make a better decision."

"Go ahead," said Ann. The others nodded and fell silent, waiting.

Gene cleared his throat. "The way it looks to me, we've had a lucky
accident in getting control of the ship. So far, we've not contacted the
passengers. They know nothing of the change that's taken place. As it
is, I see no point in contacting them. It might force us to face another
mutiny, that of the passengers, who would regard us as what we are,
mutineers, and when they found we weren't going to our destination,
they'd certainly not all take it lying down. Point number one, then, is
to ignore the passengers, keep the knowledge of a mutiny from them.

"Now, ou