"There has never been a reward without a hazard for men to face. This, then, is our hazard. And I assure you, no man has ever been within reach of so vast a reward. Is there anything else I can tell you? Mr. Rogers will establish a manner of arms distribution and a system of defense positions once we make landfall. We will bring the Algonquin down on a site I have already determined. The site where the Essex met her fate." Here, Kingsford stopped speaking. Several of the men shifted slightly. There was some clearing of throats, but no voices. "Are there no questions, then?" Kingsford asked. Again, no one spoke. Perhaps they were awed by the sight Kingsford presented. He had been seen by no one on board since the commissioning but myself and a junior officer who piloted the shuttle at Alpha Centauri X. They knew him without the eye patch or the beard. He seemed to have aged twenty years since the departure. He had worn the false eye during the commissioning ceremony, and now, with the eyepatch and the beard, his face was darker, his expression pained. * * * * * Perhaps the men chose to accept Kingsford's optimism in the face of the fate of the Essex, considering that they were now in orbit about Aldebaran IX, and little more could be done but effect a landing. Anything else could constitute mutiny, and the alternative was the fortune Kingsford promised each man. "Good," Kingsford said. He smiled. "Now, as you might imagine, I have a personal interest in this animal we will hunt." He motioned to the eye patch. "I left this behind me last time. Not to mention a crew of forty-two men." Here he paused in the way I had grown to know. His eye again focused on no particular object. After a time, he continued. He drew a paper from his tunic. "This, Mr. Rogers, is to be posted where all crew members can read it. I believe it will explain itself. Post it after we land." He handed me the sealed paper. "Gentlemen," Kingsford said, "I thank you for your service. Are you with me in this business of Aldebaran IX and its flying animal?" He smiled broadly. The men looked at one another, then slowly began to smile. Pierce, the armorer, made his way to Kingsford, his hand extended. "Sir," he said, as Kingsford grasped his hand and shook it, "it's been too long since I've been on a good hunt. I'm with you all the way." "Good," Kingsford said. "You are Pierce, am I right?" "Yes, sir." "Thank you, Mr. Pierce." That started it. The crew moved in on Kingsford, all shook his hand and pledged to do their share. After a long while, the camaraderie quieted down, and Kingsford excused himself, requesting Throne and me to join him in his cabin. Kingsford sat down behind his desk and drew a chart from a file. He slid it across the desk so that Throne and I could see it.