"Good enough for what?"
I looked at him, smiling. "I believe that was actually a question for me to ask you."
"You think so? Perhaps. But, nonetheless, have any of them lost faith in Aldebaran IX?"
"I think it would be wise for you to address them and judge that for yourself," I said. "At this point, Captain, it's no more than any man aboard deserves."
"Nobody deserves anything, Mr. Rogers," he said firmly. "Don't you forget that. Keep them busy, Mr. Rogers. They shall have their wealth. Their speculations on that wealth is all that need concern them. And I shall have mine."
"Do you intend to address the crew at any time before we reach Aldebaran IX?"
"In good time, Mr. Rogers," he said. "In good time."
That was very much the way it went, Kingsford sticking to his cabin, reading his Bible, and the men occupying the monotony of space penetration with conjectures on their futures and on Aldebaran IX.
It took four more months to raise Aldebaran. When we ran onto the range of Aldebaran, things grew a bit tricky. There were no truly accurate charts, no perfectly matched coordinates for absolute bearings, only the tape of the Essex's astro-officer to trail in on. We set the tape and locked the controls in on them and turned all the scanners up full. We proceeded at ten percent power, gradually drawing in on the solar system of the red star, setting a solar orbit and drawing in toward the nebula of its system. Here, the Essex's tape became useless. They had made eight approaches before striking a parallel orbit, had not recorded the orbital timing of the various outer planets of the system, and had sort of felt their way into the ninth planet. We would be obliged to do the same thing. Throne, the astrogation officer, took over control and eased the Algonquin down, decelerating gradually over a period of seven hours. He then brought us to a complete halt and looked up at me.