"But—" Captain Algase stroked his jaw speculatively, "In this case—Chandler, get him below! It served him right. Maybe he'll spend this rest period sleeping, instead of stirring up trouble amongst the passengers. Dan, my boy—"
He led the way back into the turret, completed the log record for the previous trick, handed it to Mallory, who had slipped into the control bucket.
"Twenty-four more Earth hours and we'll be there," he said. "And, believe me, I'll be glad when this trip ends. Trouble. Nothing but trouble from beginning to end. Long tricks and short tempers. Norton getting mixed up with that Wilmot dame—a damn' hussy if I ever saw one, and her husband a neurotic wreck. Smith bothering the blistering Hades out of me, wanting to 'help' catch spies and a thousand other—" He glanced at Mallory, who had stiffened at the word. His glance was sympathetic. "I'm sorry I had to ask you to arrest her, Daniel. But it's experiences like that that make strong men out of space officers.
"You have to be hard in this business. Crime hides beneath strange disguises. The sweetest smiles, the friendliest hand-shakes, the most honeyed words, may conceal—"
"If you please, sir!" said Dan Mallory, white-lipped.
"I know, lad. I've seen the way you looked at her. But remember—forty thousand innocent lives! Had she learned the secret of that new weapon, our voyage might have been disastrous. From this distance she could have made a flight to Io in one of the auxiliary safety rockets, given the plans to Kreuther's forces. The very weapon we look to for salvation would have been used against us. Io might have become a nest of rebellion, instead of a peaceful member of the solar family. Now that we've snared our spy, the messenger—whoever he is—will be safe."
On the visiplate it was a glowing red spark, but in the perilens before him it was a gigantic orb dominating the heavens through which the Libra hurtled. Jupiter; monster of Sol's scattered brood, untamed sphere of writhing gases and vague mystery, itself a pseudo-parent emanating enough heat to make its far-flung satellites livable worlds. Soon they would fling themselves, they aboard the Libra, halfway around that gigantic orb, settle to the small body now wanly visible as a silver crescent.
Dan Mallory punched a control-key savagely, felt the Libra shake itself into a slightly changed curve, turned to his superior.
"I'm not so sure of that, sir. Oh, I'm not trying to defend Lady Alice. Earth's Intelligence officers don't make mistakes—not mistakes of that magnitude, anyway. But there are other passengers I don't trust. Lemming. Wilmot. Dr. Bonetti. Why are they aboard the Libra? Why were they so excited when they heard we'd received a message from Lunar III? Suppose one of them is also a spy?"