Two hours later he stepped over to the chart-room port and gazed out into the velvet blue-black of space where the thousand suns of the Milky Way burned across the horizon. It was no use. He was going to have to make a fool of himself again.
But could he help it? Captain McCausland had certainly asked him to check the course through the planetoid belt. Perhaps he would forget now, and not ask about the checking operation. But if he did? Certainly Walter McCausland couldn't have been wrong. Yet the figures—? Adam studied his work sheet again, shaking his head.
"Finished the checking, Longworth?" The voice startled him so that he jumped.
"Yes, sir. Shall I take over the watch, sir?"
"Little early, aren't you? What do you think of the course, Mister?"
Adam hesitated.
"It seems ... likely to get us there, sir."
McCausland's eyes became points. "Are you by any chance evading my question? I'll repeat it. It was—what do you think of the course? What is your opinion?"
Adam gulped. Here it was.
"There seems to be a fault in it, sir. I'm sorry."