Chambers staggered over the threshold. His clothing was rumpled. A rude bandage was wound around his head. His face was haggard and his eyes red.
"Hello, Manning," he said. "I suppose you've won. The Solar System must be in your control by now."
He lifted his hand to his mustache, brushed it, a feeble attempt at playing the old role he'd acted so long.
"We've won," said Greg quietly, "but you're wrong about our being in control. The governments are in the hands of the people, where they should be."
Chambers nodded. "I see," he mumbled. "Different people, different ideas." His eyes rested on Stutsman and Greg saw sudden rage sweep across the gray, haggard face. "So you've got him, have you? What are you going to do with him? What are you going to do with all of us?"
"I haven't had time to think about it," said Greg. "I've principally been thinking about Stutsman here."
"He mutinied," rasped Chambers. "He seized the ship, turned the crew against me."
"And the penalty for that," said Greg, quietly, "is death. Death by walking in space."
Stutsman writhed within the bands of force that held him tight. His face contorted. "No, damn you! You can't do that! Not to me, you can't!"
"Shut up," roared Chambers and Stutsman quieted.