y? Well, you couldn't gauge it in
percentages. Doubtless more safety lay in turning back. But even there
the odds were such that no sane man would willingly gamble. Certainly
the skipper had no right to take the hazard, if he could avoid it by any
means.

But what means were there?

As he hauled himself toward the _Ranger_, Coffin watched the receiver
web grow in his eyes, till it snared a distorted Milky Way. It seemed
very frail to have carried so much hell. And, indeed, it would have to
be dismantled before deceleration. No trick to sabotage the thing. _If
only I had known!_

Or if someone on Earth, the villain or well-meaning fool or whatever he
was who wrote that first message ... if only he would send another.
"Ignore preceding. Educational decree still in force." Or something. But
no. Such things didn't happen. A man had to make his own luck, in an
angry world.

Coffin sighed and clamped boot-soles to his flagship's air lock.

Mardikian helped him through. When he removed his hoarfrosted space
helmet, Coffin saw how the boy's mouth quivered. A few hours had put
years on Mardikian.

He was in medical whites. Unnecessarily, to break the silence with any
inane remark, Coffin said: "Going on vat duty, I see."

"Yes, sir." A mutter. "My turn." The armor made a lot of noise while
they stowed it. "We'll need some more ethanol soon, captain," blurted
Mardikian desperately.

* * * * *

"What for?" grumbled Coffin. He had often wished the stuff were not
indispensable. He alone had the key to its barrel. Some masters allowed
a small liquor ration on voyage, and said Coffin was only disguising
prejudice in claiming it added risk. ("What the devil _can_ happen in
interstellar orbit? The only reason anyone stays conscious at all is the
machinery to care properly for sleepers would mass more than the extra
supplies do. You can issue the grog when a man comes off watch, can't
you? Oh, never mind, never mind! I'm just grateful I don't ship under
you!")

"Gammagen fixative ... and so on ... sir," stumbled Mardikian. "Mr.
Hallmyer will ... make the requisition as usual."

"All right." Coffin faced his radio man, captured the fearful eyes and
would not let them go. "Have there been any further communications?" he
snapped.

"From Earth? No. No, sir. I ... I wouldn't really expect it ... we're
about at the ... the ... the limit of reception now. It's almost a
miracle, sir, I suppose, tha