couldn't handle the ship on a twenty-four-hour basis for the next hundred and eighty-six days, and I'd rather think Makki killed himself."

He paused at the top of the companionway.

"Don't forget," he said. "The Earth transit ought to be at midpoint in a couple of hours."

Then he disappeared below.

Lefler took the magnetized pencil from the memorandum pad and wrote a reminder: "E.T. midpoint. Should check 28:16:54."

Lefler leaned back gloomily in the control chair. Had he killed Makki? It seemed the only way it could have happened, unless Makki had, indeed, committed suicide. And he just didn't think Makki had.

The chronometer said 1839. Exactly twenty-four hours ago, he had awakened from a nightmare and had come up to find Makki dead in this same chair. It seemed a century.

He glanced idly back at the memorandum pad. 28:15:64. He'd have to make an entry in the log in a little under two hours. How could he check accurately when the time of entry into transit was estimated?

Twenty-four plus two. Twenty-six.

He sat bolt upright, straining at his straps. He snapped down the communicator button.

"Robwood, come back up here!" he bellowed.

Unbuckling himself hastily, Lefler headed across the room toward the heat-gun rack.

Taat was playing solitaire, waiting patiently for Robwood, when Lefler and Robwood came down to the centerdeck together.

Lefler pointed a heat-gun at Taat.

"Go below and get the irons, Robwood," he said. "Taat, I'm sorry, but I'm arresting you for the murder of Makki."

Taat raised an eyebrow and continued shuffling cards.

"I don't think you want to do anything like that, Robwood," he said mildly. "Do you?"

Robwood hesitated and cast an anxious glance at him, but turned and headed for the companionway to the storage deck.

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