Saxon whirled around.
Ileth Urban stood in the doorway, a dart gun leveled at his stomach. Behind her, he saw the shame-faced Murdock surrounded by the crew. Murdock was helpless, his arms in the air.
"The crew have mutinied," said Ileth. "The ship is now under the control of General Atomic."
Saxon's jaw sagged. He said, "So you are Q62." It wasn't so much a question as a statement. He knew. He could read it in her thoughts. But why hadn't he been able to see it there before?
It wasn't possible, but there could be no doubt. Ileth Urban was Q62.
Then the thoughts of the men in the corridor made themselves felt. Every man jack of them had gone over to General Atomic, not recently, but weeks and months ago, before they had ever left Earth.
He dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. How had they been able to disguise their thoughts all this time?
He looked at Ileth in her chartreuse green short-waisted jacket. She held the dart gun leveled at his chest. Her patrician features were set in grim unhappy lines.
"Something!" Saxon thought wildly, "Something has gone terribly wrong!"