"Not all of it," somebody murmured.
"Not quite. The ship was mostly automatic. I knew then why I had been picked. As I said, in an emergency, I could handle any job or even all jobs, for as long as necessary. We had all the flight tapes from the long voyage out. Mainly it was a job for the computers. You couldn't just run the tapes through backward because nothing ever stands quite still in the universe. All I know is that we did it, the ship and I. The Venture IV is the real hero, I guess. It brought me back."
"What about the others?" somebody persisted.
"I don't know," Braun answered irritably. "All I know is what I've told you. What happened to me. About the rest of the bunch, even the experts are still guessing. There are several theories. There were things about the ship. Odd differences. Nothing I could catch, but the experts found curiosities. They think I was tricked, that it's not really the same ship, but a clever and almost miraculous duplicate."
"But why, and how?"
Braun laughed bitterly. "Your guess is as good as anybody's. Mine is—that I wasn't wanted. The rest of the crew were all specialists, trained technicians, each one the best in his field. If somebody out there wanted some samples of the best brains in the human race, he really got the top quality. They were all educated to the hilt, trained for a particular job. Maybe they were picked because they were ready for something else. They had the entrance qualifications. I hadn't. That may not be the only explanation. It's probably the best one."
Braun poured himself another drink and drank it. His eyes stared blankly, as if the essential part of him was back out on the raw frontiers of the dark unknown.
Somebody dragged him back to the bar with a final question.
"But surely you must have some ideas of your own. What do you think happened to the others?"
Braun smiled soberly. His voice was tired, and it sounded as empty as those black spaces where no sun ever shines.