real risk that by the time we
get home, Earth will no longer be safe _or_ comfortable--we've been
forced to decide all over again. It's agony, captain! De Smet is a
strong man, in his way. He'll compel us to do the irrevocable, as soon
as possible, just because it will make a final commitment. Once we've
turned far enough back, it'll be out of our hands and we can stop
thinking."

He regarded her with a sort of wonder. "But you look calm enough," he
said.

"I made my decision back on Earth," she answered. "I've seen no reason
to change it."

* * * * *

"What do the women think?" he asked, leaping back to safely denumerable
things.

"Most want to give up, of course." She said it with a mildness which
softened the judgment. "Few of them really wanted to come in the first
place. They did so only because their men insisted. Women are much too
practical to care about a philosophy, or a frontier, or anything except
their families."

"Do you?" he challenged her.

She shrugged ruefully. "I've no family, captain. At the same time, I
suppose ... a sense of humor? ... kept me from sublimating it into a
Cause of any kind." Counterattacking: "Why do you care what we do,
captain?"

"Why?" He was taken aback, and found himself stammering. "Why ...
because ... I'm in charge--"

"Oh, yes. But isn't it more than that? You spent years on Earth
lecturing about Rustum and its colonization. I think it must be a deep
symbol to you. Don't worry, I won't go analytic. I happen to think,
myself, that this colony is enormously important, objectively speaking,
I mean. If our race muffs this chance, we may never get another. But you
and I wouldn't care about that, not really, unless it was personally
important too. Would we? Why did you accept this thankless job,
commanding a colonial fleet? It can't be an itch to explore. Rustum's
already been visited once, and you'll have precious little time to carry
on any further studies. You could have been off to some star where men
have never traveled at all. Do you see, captain? You're not a bit more
cold-blooded about this than I. You _want_ that colony planted."

She stopped, laughed, and color went across her face. "Oh, dear, I do
chatter, don't I? Pardon me. Let's get back to business."

"I think," said Coffin, slowly and jaggedly, "I'm beginning to realize
what's involved."

She settled back and listened.

He bent a leg around a stanchion to hold his l