"I know," Conroy said tiredly. "I know."
Later, he held a sobbing Janet Merrill in his arms, felt her soft warmth against him, soothed her as she wept.
"Easy, baby. Your Dad'll be all right once the psych-crew calms him down. He had space-sickness; it can happen to anyone. He went out of his mind temporarily—and instead of preventing the saboteur from bombing, he became the saboteur!"
"But the disgrace—"
"It'll be hushed up," he said. "It could happen to anyone. When he comes out of it he'll forget the whole thing."
She started to calm. "And what about you?"
Chuckling, he said, "You don't think they're going to condemn me after all this, do you? I had a talk with the Commandant. They're going to investigate the whole filthy business of the jetroom and replace those men with robots. And I'm completely cleared."
"That's wonderful, darling," she said.
"Darling—?" he repeated. "But I thought—"