Chambers nodded. “I see,” he mumbled. “Different people, different ideas.” His eyes rested on Stutsman and Greg saw sudden rage sweep across the gray, haggard face. “So you've got him, have you? What are you going to do with him? What are you going to do with all of us?"
"I haven't had time to think about it,” said Greg. “I've principally been thinking about Stutsman here."
"He mutinied,” rasped Chambers “He seized the ship, turned the crew against me."
"And the penalty for that,” said Greg, quietly, “is death. Death by walking in space."
Stutsman writhed within the bands of forces that held him tight. His face contorted. “No, damn you! You can't do that! Not to me, you can't!"
"Shut up,” roared Chambers and Stutsman quieted.
"I was thinking, too,” said Greg, “that at his order thousands of people were mercilessly shot down back in the Solar System. Stood against a wall and mowed down. Others were killed like wild animals in the street. Thousands of them."
He moved slowly toward Stutsman and the man cringed.
"Stutsman,” he said, “you're a butcher. You're a stench in the nostrils of humanity. You aren't fit to live."
"Those,” said Craven, “are my sentiments exactly."