And it was tough that we must all go out together like this. Through no fault of our own. Through the machinations of a space-mad castaway. He turned to me. "Lieutenant Brait, you and Sparks will go to the radio turret. Send a complete report to the Earth authorities. Tell them—" He gulped. "Tell them why the—the Antigone will not come in."
I said, "Aye, aye, sir!" mechanically, and started for the door. But Sparks stopped me.
"Ain't you gonna tell 'em what we learned?"
"Eh?"
"About him?"
He jerked his head toward 'Moran'.
"It doesn't really make any difference now," I said. "But—" I suppose my voice was scornful. There was scorn and bitterness in my heart. "They might as well know that the man who has condemned us all to death is—or was—one of Earth's greatest scientists. Had he not become a raving lunatic his genius could have stemmed this disaster."
McNeally said, "What's that, Lieutenant? What do you mean?"
"I mean this man's name is not 'Paul Moran'—"
"Names," murmured Moran gently. "What difference does a name make? When one has had thousands of names."