"There is also far more to Ecclesiastes than just vanity," I said. "But I do imagine one could speak of purposes in life, and all of that. But aren't these in themselves a sort of vanity? Actually, we're not put here for any real reason. I don't think so, anyway. I've always felt that man is quite the master of his own destiny." "And yet, Mr. Rogers, here you are," he said, smiling now, "aboard the Algonquin, after having quite conclusively decided that a life of grace and leisure was your true destiny. Do you not believe that perhaps your whole life was destined for that of a space officer? Perhaps molded from the very moment you were born to serve as my Executive Officer during this expedition?" "I prefer to believe that I had stronger politics with Anglo-Galactic than the others who were after this berth." "Do you really? Well, that's interesting enough. And tell me, Mr. Rogers, what of the crew? Do they still hold your faith to the last man?" "I've seen enough men in enough situations to know that one cannot vouch for every man, even for himself, Captain. I still believe they are a good enough crew, yes." "Good enough for what?" I looked at him, smiling. "I believe that was actually a question for me to ask you." "You think so? Perhaps. But, nonetheless, have any of them lost faith in Aldebaran IX?" "I think it would be wise for you to address them and judge that for yourself," I said. "At this point, Captain, it's no more than any man aboard deserves." "Nobody deserves anything, Mr. Rogers," he said firmly. "Don't you forget that. Keep them busy, Mr. Rogers. They shall have their wealth. Their speculations on that wealth is all that need concern them. And I shall have mine." "Do you intend to address the crew at any time before we reach Aldebaran IX?" "In good time, Mr. Rogers," he said. "In good time." * * * * * That was very much the way it went, Kingsford sticking to his cabin, reading his Bible, and the men occupying the monotony of space penetration with conjectures on their futures and on Aldebaran IX.