"So we just stay here until we're rescued," David said.
"A fine chance for that!" Farrow's voice grew bitter again. "Our captain has landed us out here on the rim of the galaxy where there won't be another ship for a hundred years!"
"I don't understand the man," Beeson said suddenly, looking around him belligerently. "What are we doing out here anyway?"
"Extended Exploration," said Thorne. "It's a form of being put out to pasture. Renner's too old for the Service, but he's still a strong and competent man. So they give him a ship, and a vague assignment, and let him do just about what he wants. There you have it."
He took a cigar from his pocket, and looked at it fondly.
"While they last, gentlemen," he said, holding it up. He snipped the end, and lit it carefully. His own hair had grown grey in the Service, and, in a way, the reason for his assignment to the ship was the same as Renner's.
"I think," he said slowly, "that Captain Renner is looking for something."
"But for what?" Beeson demanded. "He has taken us to every out-of-the-way, backward planet on the rim. And what happens? We land. We find the natives. We are kind to them. We teach them something, and leave them a few supplies. And then Renner loses interest, and we go on!"
"Perhaps it is for something in himself," David offered.
"Perhaps he will find it here," Thorne murmured. "I'm going to bed."