Sheffield sprang to his feet. “His remarks are out of order. He’s not a witness.”
The captain banged his T-wedge and said, “Sit down!”
The trial went on. A crew member was called in to testify that Mark had informed them of the first expedition and that Sheffield had stood by while that was done.
Sheffield cried, “I want to cross-examine!”
The captain said, “You’ll get your chance later.”
The crewman was shooed out.
Sheffield studied the audience. It seemed obvious that their sympathy was not entirely with the captain. He was psychologist enough to be able to wonder, even at this point, how many of them were secretly relieved at having left Junior, and actually grateful to Mark for having precipitated the matter as he did. Then, too, the obvious kangaroo nature of the court didn’t sit well with them. Vernadsky was frowning darkly, while Novee stared at Cimon with obvious distaste.
It was Cimon who worried Sheffield. He, the psychologist felt, must have argued the captain into this and it was he who might insist on the extreme penalty. Sheffield was bitterly regretful of having punctured the man’s pathological vanity.
But what really puzzled Sheffield above all was Mark’s attitude. He was showing no signs of spacesickness or of unease of any kind. He listened to everything closely but seemed moved by nothing. He acted as though nothing mundane concerned him at the moment; as though certain information he himself held made everything else of no account.
The captain banged his T-wedge and said, “I guess we have it all. Facts all clear. No argument. We can finish this.”