"Naturally," I said. "Military sciences are a large part of S Force operation." "This I know, Mr. Rogers. But have you ever put these sciences into practice?" "Yes, sir," I said. "May I ask why you wanted to know?" "No, Mr. Rogers. But it is very good to have you aboard. Thank you, Mr. Rogers." He turned his attention suddenly to a manual on his desk. The interview seemed to be over. I left. * * * * * We spent the next few weeks at the Lunar base undergoing extensive testing. Finally the ship was ready for commissioning. Kingsford appeared to accept command and we lifted from orbit, locked into the pre-taped course and set about the business of a crushingly inactive fourteen months of transit. In all that I have written of the Algonquin incident, I have tried to portray Kingsford correctly. I don't know yet as I have succeeded. He was almost a complete recluse aboard ship. I virtually commanded, as he had predicted during our first conversation. When I did see him, it was to deliver routine reports on the ship and crew, but I began to observe that even these reports did not particularly interest him. He had stopped shaving and had grown a long, very full dark beard. That, together with the eye patch, gave him the look of a very ancient mystic. He was always reading when I entered his cabin. His readings were restricted to the writings of St. Augustine, _The City Of God_ I believe the volume was, and one or another of the first books of the Old Testament. After about nine months of my routine monologues, I stopped reporting altogether, and didn't see him for about three weeks. Nor did I receive any summons from him. Then, during one of my periods of watch in the control room, I received a signal to report to the Captain's cabin. I entered, observed that despite his solitude the cabin and every accessory was in perfect order, nothing out of place. I knew that he allowed no orderly to enter the cabin, and yet there was no evidence that here was a man who was virtually a prisoner of his own choosing. We spoke for many hours that time. He asked about my past, my period of retirement, my reading habits, what I had read and what I thought of these readings. The conversation was limited almost entirely to myself, but Kingsford as an entity began to emerge for the first time since I had met him. He was altogether friendly. He wanted to know whether I was familiar with the Bible. When I said I was, he asked which section interested me most. I told him Ecclesiastes. "Why Ecclesiastes, Mr. Rogers?" "Well, because it seems to pretty well sum up all of life." "There is far more to all of life than just vanity," he said.