It was a harried and heartsick centurion who, a few minutes later, called a conference in his own quarters. Borion and Thamon sat regarding him gravely, while Mortoch, the second in command, lounged against the wall, a faint, derisive smile on his lean face.
"We are faced with a situation," Dynamon said heavily. "I would like to hear some opinions."
"Flagrant case of indiscipline," Mortoch said promptly; "that is, if we can regard this impersonally."
"Personalities," said Dynamon sharply, "will have no influence on my final decision."
"In that case," said Mortoch harshly, "it seems to me, you are bound to put back to Earth and hand the woman over to the right people for corrective action."
"Good heavens!" cried Borion, "I hope we don't have to do that. We already have a problem on our hands in the shape of that Martian Carrier."
"What do you say, Thamon?" the centurion asked after a significant pause.
"Well," said the scientist quietly, "you can't altogether regard the situation without considering personalities. Keltry stowed away for a very personal reason, and one which it is hard to condemn entirely. I think we are over-emphasizing the official breach of discipline. I, personally, can't see that it makes so much difference. After all, we on this expedition are on our own and are likely to remain so for some time to come. I am in favor of going along about our business and forgetting how Keltry came aboard."
"Spoken like a civilian," said Mortoch sourly, "and I hold to my opinion. Just because Dynamon was promoted over my head, I see no reason for trying to curry favor with him."
There was an awkward silence during which Dynamon's face grew very pink and his blue eyes grew cold.