"My guess," said Browne, "is that he did not come along."
"How do you mean?"
"The space-time foreshortening did not affect him."
"But—" Lesbee began blankly.
"Look," said Browne harshly, "don't ask me how he did it. My picture is, he stayed in the cage till after the acceleration stopped. Then, in a leisurely fashion, he released himself from the electrically locked manacles, climbed out, and went off to some other part of the ship. He wouldn't have to hurry since by this time he was operating at a rate of, say, five hundred times faster than our living pace."
Lesbee said, "But that means he's been out there for hours—his time. What's he been up to?"
Browne admitted that he had no answer for that.
"But you can see," he pointed out anxiously, "that I meant what I said about going back to Earth. We have no business in this part of space. These beings are far ahead of us scientifically."
His purpose was obviously to persuade. Lesbee thought: "He's back to our fight. That's more important to him than any damage the real enemy is causing."
A vague recollection came of the things he had read about the struggle for power throughout Earth history. How men intrigued for supremacy while vast hordes of the invader battered down the gates. Browne was a true spiritual descendant of all those mad people.