When Gary finished Warren did not speak. Instead, he jammed hamlike hands deep into his trousers pockets, stalked to the far end of the balcony, and there with head lowered, shoulders hunched, his back to the others of the group, stared for long minutes unseeingly out over the distant panorama. At length he turned, his eyes gravely querulous. "Gary ... you're sure of what you've been telling me?" "I only wish," said Gary bitterly, "there were some possibility of error." "What do _you_ say, Dr. Bryant?" "There is only one thing _to_ say. Gary is right; completely right. We have seen the pictures, checked and rechecked our calculations a hundred times. There is no doubt but that the time approaches, and it all too soon, when Earth's sun and its entire swarm of tributary planets will exceed the critical dwindling point and flame into sudden oblivion." "And--and knowing these things, the Council wouldn't give you a ship, Gary?" "They just laughed at me. Said the whole theory was ridiculous." "Lord!" said Captain Hugh Warren, "What fools we mortals be! Of course, Gary, I can see their point ... to a certain extent. It _does_ sound mad, your idea of visiting three only half-friendly planets and asking each of them to open-handedly donate its most cherished military secret. But it's the only way...." His hands came from his pockets in a swift, decisive motion. "Yes, it's the only way. How soon can you be ready to leave?" "How--soon?" "There's no time for fiddle-faddle. If we're going to do anything, we've got to do it now before anything leaks, or anyone can get suspicious." "We?" echoed Dr. Bryant bleakly. "Of course!" Hugh Warren brushed the older man's dubiety aside with brusque and characteristic impatience. "You don't think I'm going to stand on the sidelines and let this adventure romp along without _me_, do you? And besides, I'm just what the doctor ordered: the answer to your problem. You need a ship and a crew, don't you? And a pilot? Well, I've got the first and the second. And I'm the last myself." * * * * * Nora Powell burst forth impetuously, "But--but, Captain Warren, we can't let you do that. You're a military man. You'd be court-martialed on charges of desertion--" "If," grunted Warren, "they caught us. Yes. But I'm not figuring on anybody catching the _Liberty_. She's the sweetest little ether-pusher that ever came off a cradle. And as for court-martial--" He shrugged--"we'll worry about that if and when we get back. According to Gary, if something isn't done--and done quick--there won't _be_ any court-martials to try traitors. "And--" He grinned--"I'd rather be a dead felon than a live loyalist."