"An hour—"
The captain smiled. "That's what I said. In that hour, you could tell me the truth. I'm not a drive man, I'm an administrator, and organizer and director. You're the technicians. The truth now could save you much unhappiness—in the future."
Sabo stood up heavily. "You've got your information," he said with a bitter laugh. "The patrol craft will confirm it."
The captain's face went a shade grayer. "All right," he said. "Go ahead, laugh. I told you, anyway."
Sabo didn't realize how his hands were trembling until he reached the end of the corridor. In despair he saw the plan crumbling beneath his feet, and with the despair came the cold undercurrent of fear. The patrol would discover them, disclose the hoax. There was no choice left—ready or not, they'd have to leave.
Quickly he turned in to the central control room where Brownie was working. He sat down, repeating the captain's news in a soft voice.
"An hour! But how can we—"
"We've got to. We can't quit now, we're dead if we do."
Brownie's eyes were wide with fear. "But can't we stall them, somehow? Maybe if we turned on the captain—"
"The crew would back him. They wouldn't dare go along with us. We've got to run, nothing else." He took a deep breath. "Can you control the drive?"