"What in the hell, sir?" Axel said. "Don't be as crazy as Grover."
For a moment Spartan's eyes flared with indignation, then he waved his hand for silence. "I had not finished. I was just pointing out the simple solution. With Grover out of the way, we'd have less of a water problem, which he caused. If he did not exist, we would not have to worry about his psychotic violence, which might recur. On the other hand, the loss of one able-bodied crewman would certainly show itself in the results of our expedition. We must think of the expedition. However, some disciplinary action is needed." He paused.
"I agree with you," said Morrie. "And as for my being crazy, I'm not, really. I was under a strain. I was afraid. I just forgot to be civilized."
"I'm glad you see it in that light," said Spartan, "because I'm assigning you to a task that might be somewhat dangerous. You will make the necessary repairs to engine No. Five."
I felt a sense of relief. I'd been afraid of what Spartan might do, especially when he talked of capital punishment. And even though making the repairs to the plasma motors would be perilous, the danger wasn't excessive and the job was one that someone would have to do anyhow.
"You'll begin at once," said Dr. Spartan.
"Thank you, sir," said Morrie.
He rose, went over to his bed roll and began to put on his spacesuit. Dr. Spartan watched him with a curious glint in his eyes. Then he turned to me. "Stand by the locks till he returns, Drake."
I nodded.
Turning abruptly, Dr. Spartan went back into his ivory tower.