"But I still don't understand about Adam March," Craig persisted. "He knew too much about the Andromeda."
"Not too much," Captain Martin said. "He designed and built her."
"What?" Craig gasped.
The captain nodded. "In those days he was a deep-space ship designer. His life's dream was to fly one of them, a dream he was too old to realize. But he designed and built the Andromeda. The next best thing to flying her, for him, was to have me fly her."
The general's face showed sudden interest.
"I see," Craig said. "If he designed the Andromeda, then he would know about her." His brows wrinkled as a new thought came into his mind. "But he was working here as a janitor. How—"
"Maybe several reasons," the captain answered. "His real life was the Andromeda. He probably came here and took any job he could get, because this would be her first landing if she ever returned to the system. If she ever came back, he wanted to be on hand to welcome her."
"Oh," Craig said. In that brief explanation, most of the puzzle of Adam March's actions became clear. "But how did he know that something was wrong on the ship?"
Captain Martin's face grew grim. "I didn't see him when I came off the ship, but I think he saw me. At the sight of me, he knew something was wrong, knew it in a way that made it impossible for him to be mistaken. He took her off alone, not only to save the station, but to save me."
"What?" Craig gasped. "He knew you, twenty years ago, before the Andromeda jumped into deep space?"