"What is the correct direction?" asked Ann, squatting down beside him.
"I don't know. We'll have to figure it out, then see if we can point her that way."
"Let's get up to the bridge," she said.
Schwenky and Maher found them brooding over the series of levers and buttons which comprised the control board. Schwenky noted their baffled frowns. His big face took on a worried look. "You fix!" he said. "You good fellow, Gene. We run ship, let officers go to hell. Yah!"
Maher scratched one patch of greying hair over his left eye. The rest of his skull was covered with brown bumps like fungus growths. "It's just possible we'll wreck the ship, let the air out of her or something, if we experiment," he warned.
"Go get MacNamara," said Gene. "He's been on the ship longer than any of us. Maybe he'll know."
He didn't. "All I know is grease cups," he reminded Gene.
Hours later eighteen men and four women gathered together in the recreation room to discuss a plan of action. Everyone had his or her ideas, but after an hour of wrangling, they got nowhere. Finally Gene held up a hand and shouted for silence.
"Let's decide who's boss, then follow orders," he said. "If I may be so bold, how about me?"
"Yah!" said Schwenky. "I do what you say. I like you!"