Somers suddenly felt that if death or rescue did not come quickly, they would kill each other, or drive each other crazy. "Look!" Rajcik said. * * * * * A light on the computer's panel was flashing green. "Must be a mistake," said Watkins. "Green means the problem is solvable within the conditions set down." "Solvable!" Rajcik said. "But it's impossible," Watkins argued. "It's fooling us, leading us on--" "Don't be superstitious," Rajcik mocked. "How soon do we get the solution?" "It's coming now." Watkins pointed to a paper tape inching out of a slot in the machine's face. "But there must be something wrong!" They watched as, millimeter by millimeter, the tape crept out. The computer hummed, its lights flashing green. Then the hum stopped. The green lights blazed once more and faded. "What happened?" Rajcik wanted to know. "It's finished," Watkins said. "Pick it up! Read it!" "You read it. You won't get _me_ to play its game." Rajcik laughed nervously and rubbed his hands together, but didn't move. Both men turned to Somers. "Captain, it's your responsibility." "Go ahead, Captain!" Somers looked with loathing at his engineer and navigator. _His_ responsibility, everything was _his_ responsibility. Would they never leave him alone? He went up to the machine, pulled the tape free, read it with slow deliberation. "What does it say, sir?" Rajcik asked. "Is it--possible?" Watkins urged. "Oh, yes," Somers said. "It's possible." He laughed and looked around at the hot, smelly, low-ceilinged little room with its locked doors and windows. "What is it?" Rajcik shouted. * * * * * Somers said, "You figured a few thousand years to return to the Solar System, Rajcik? Well, the computer agrees with you. Twenty-three hundred years, to be precise. Therefore, it has given us a suitable longevity serum." "Twenty-three hundred years," Rajcik mumbled. "I suppose we hibernate or something of the sort." "Not at all," Somers said calmly. "As a matter of fact, this serum does away quite nicely with the need for sleep. We stay awake and watch each other." The three men looked at one another and at the sickeningly familiar room smelling of metal and perspiration, its sealed doors and windows that stared at an unchanging spectacle of stars. Watkins said, "Yes, that's the sort of thing it would do." --NED LANG Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ June 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.