"Impossible!"
"Impossible, maybe," acknowledged the First Mate, "but unfortunately, Don, the Captain's right. Three lead-in cables are broken, the stripping is off the condenser."
"But—but everything was in perfect order an hour ago! I don't understand! Yes, I do! Moran! He said he'd destroy us all if he got a chance! Skipper, there's the answer. He's done it. The madman—"
Then there was a mirthful chuckle in the doorway, and Moran was standing there looking at us, his thin lips wide in a smile.
"You're right, Brait. I did do it. But I'm not a madman. I'm a happy man. The happiest man who ever lived!" His eyes lighted triumphantly; he stretched his arms above his head in a great, yearning gesture. "Soon will come freedom! The great, everlasting freedom of death."
"Get him!" said the Skipper succinctly. Gunner McCoy lumbered forward, his long, hairy arms encircled Moran's body. The Skipper pawed his graying thatch. "This is no time for reproaches, Mr. Brait. I told you to guard this man; for some reason you failed to do so. But now our problem is to repair the damage he has done. Or else—"
His pause was significant. But Moran's quiet, mocking laughter persisted.
"It is useless, Captain. Not in hours, no, not in weeks, will you repair the damage. Don't you see—" There was a feverish light in his eyes, a shuddering vibrancy in his voice. "Don't you see that I bring you the greatest of all boons known to man?
"Death! Wonderful, blissful death! Death that I have sought so long ... so hopelessly."
Those were the last words I heard for some time. I dashed from the room, Bartlett, Sparks and McCoy at my heels. We picked up the Chief Engineer. We covered the Antigone from stern to stern. And our worst fears were realized. It was no use. The damage Moran had done was irreparable.