ins had his head cocked to one side, listening, puzzled. Ives
rose from the couch and came forward to stand beside Paresi.

Johnny was manipulating the keys firmly. His fingers began to play a
rapid, skillful, silent concerto. His face had a look of intense
concentration and of complete self-confidence.

"Well," said Ives heavily. "That's a bust, too."

Paresi spun to him. "_Shh!_" It was done with such intensity that Ives
recoiled. With a warning look at him, Paresi walked to the Captain,
whispered in his ear.

"My God," said Anderson. "All right, Doctor." He came forward to the
pilot's chair. Johnny was still concentratedly, uselessly at work.
Anderson glanced inquiringly at Paresi, who nodded.

"That does it," said the Captain, loudly. "Nice work, Johnny. We're
smack in orbit. The automatics couldn't have done it better. For once it
feels good to be out in space again. Cut your jets now. You can check
for correction later."

"Aye, sir," said Johnny. He made two delicate adjustments, threw a
master switch and swung around. "Whew! That's work!"

Facing the four silent men, Johnny thumbed out a cigarette, put it in
his mouth, touched his lighter to it, drew a long slow puff.

"Man, that goes good...."

The cigarette was not lighted. Hoskins turned away, an expression of
sick pity on his face. Ives reached abruptly for his own lighter, and
the doctor checked him with a gesture.

"Every time I see a hot pilot work I'm amazed," Paresi said
conversationally. "Such concentration ... you must be tuckered, Johnny."

Johnny puffed at his unlit cigarette. "Tuckered," he said. "Yeah." There
were two odd undertones to his voice suddenly. They were fatigue, and
eagerness. Paresi said, "You're off-watch, John. Go stretch out."

"Real tired," mumbled Johnny. He lumbered to his feet and went aft,
where he rolled to the couch and was almost instantly asleep.

The others congregated far forward around the controls, and for a long
moment stared silently at the sleeping pilot.

"I don't get it," murmured Ives.

"He really thought he flew us out, didn't he?" asked Hoskins.

Paresi nodded. "Had to. There isn't any place in his cosmos for machines
that don't work. Contrary evidence can get just so strong. Then, for
him, it ceased to exist. A faulty cigarette lighter irritated him, a
failing airlock control made him angry and sullen and then hysterical.
When the drive controls wouldn't respond, he reached his breaking poin