Captain Torkel watched the gaunt officer stride to the aft compartment. He suddenly realized that the lieutenant was bald. The top of his Negroid skull shone like a dark egg. When had that happened? Only a short time ago, it seemed, the lieutenant had been a young man with soft thick hair. Those six years did it, thought Captain Torkel, those six dark, silent, crazy years.
The lieutenant returned a few seconds later, calmer now, reeking with the stench of laboratory alcohol spilled on his jacket.
Captain Torkel, as always, pretended not to notice the stench.
"Captain," said Lieutenant Washington deeply.
"Yes?"
"Suppose the astrophysicists back on Earth were wrong. They said the sun would blow up in exactly twelve years, two months and fifteen days. How could they get it that close? Suppose this planet is habitable, suppose it could be a new home for humanity. And suppose we start back home with the news, and then the sun turns into a nova ahead of schedule—say, in twelve years, two months and three days, when we're still a week away."
Captain Torkel swallowed hard. "We have to allow a margin for error, of course. But I don't think those predictions will be off by more than a day or two. After all, they've been corroborated in all the broadcasts we've been able to pick up."
He smiled grimly. "So if the planet's habitable, we have to start back to Earth almost at once. We can't allow ourselves more than a day to rest and try to get the madness out of our systems."
"Oh, God," murmured Lieutenant Washington, closing his eyes.