Putting a laser pistol to Hobson's head hadn't worked. Threatening to blow him out of an airlock hadn't worked. Putting Hobson in an airlock hadn't worked.

Commander Conway was furious. They still had ten minutes to get away from the black hole, if their science officer would get off his ass and think of something'

But Hobson wasn't budging.

"Look, Hobson' We know you can do this'"

"No."

"You'll die too if we get pulled in'"

"I'm prepared to die for my beliefs."

"Damn it! Be reasonable!"

"I am."

"Commander," said Dr. Schmidt, "maybe we should just listen to him?"

Conway threw his hands up. He would have liked nothing better than to strangle Victor Hobson at the moment, but that wouldn't have helped him or his crew or his ship.

"Fine! I'm listening! After he gets this ship'"
"No," said Hobson. "You'll listen now or we all die. The choice is yours."

"Commander, we've only got nine minutes before we reach the Seybold Limit," Hayley Perrotte said from Navigation.

Conway looked at Hobson. Hobson looked back at him.

The bastard is insane' Conway thought. He imagined throttling Hobson until his eyes bulged out and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

"Fine," Conway said. "I'm listening."

A smile crossed Hobson's lips.

"It's like this," Hobson said finally, "I'm sick of the way all of you are always depending on me to save your sorry asses'"

"Save our'?!" Conway got to his feet. "You're telling me you have a problem with doing your fucking job?"

Hobson turned to Schmidt, ignoring Conway.

"Is he going to keep interrupting me?"

"Commander, please!" Perrotte begged.

"Michael," Schmidt said, "Let him finish."

Conway sat down hard in his chair. I'm going to space him' Yes, I'm definitely going to space him'

"Please, Victor," Schmidt said.

Conway hated the imploring tone in her voice. He knew that she was trying to keep calm, that she had to be as scared as he was.

Hobson continued, looking pointedly at Conway: "I know my job' Analyze this and that''Victor, we're near a black hole; how do we get away?' 'Victor, we've encountered an alien artifact that's shooting missiles at us; how do we disable it?' Oh sure; you want me to save your asses when the shit hits the fan, but when I say, 'Hey, maybe we shouldn't use that artifact until I can do further tests on it'' or 'Maybe we should observe this spatial phenomenon from a further distance away''Then it's, 'We're explorers; we have to take a few risks'' or 'This weapons system is superior to anything we have; think of the advantage we'll have over the Eustan Alliance'!' If you took two minutes to listen to me in the first place, you'd never be in these situations!"

There was silence.

After a few minutes, Perrotte said, in a small voice, "We'll reach the Seybold Limit in five minutes."

Conway opened his mouth to speak, but Schmidt did so first: "Victor, we all appreciate what you do. Maybe' maybe we've been remiss in telling you so' I, for one, apologize."

"Me too," said Perrotte.

"Sorry," said Paula Flynn at Communications.

"Yeah," said Tim Halliday at Weapons Control. "Sorry, man."

Hobson looked at Conway. "I don't hear anything from him."

And you wont, Conway thought. He saw himself throttling Hobson with his bare hands' He saw himself grabbing Halliday's sidearm and blasting Hobson's head off' He saw himself throwing Hobson into an airlock and ejecting him into space'

But I won't let my crew die, Conway thought. And if it means getting on my knees and giving this wanker the biggest ego stroke in history, then I'll do it'

"I apologize, Hobson," Conway said.

****

"No, you don't," Hobson said "You're only doing it to save their asses' the great and noble Commander Conway'"

"What the fuck do you want from me, Hobson?" Conway was on his feet again. "What the fuck more do you want? We've apologized! We've listened to your sob story!"

Hobson was also on his feet. "I want you to fucking mean it! Not because you're trying to humor the madman; but because you finally fucking get it!"

He looked around at the crew "That's right - do you really think I'm stupid? I know none of you mean it! You want to humor me so I can fucking save your asses YET AGAIN! Well, fuck all of you! I'm not doing it!"

"Then what good are you?" Halliday yelled, pulling his sidearm from its holster.

"Tom," Conway said, "put the gun down."

"But, Commander'! If he's not going to help'!"

"Tom' Put it down."

Halliday gave Conway a pained look, then put away his pistol.

****

Hobson closed his eyes.

"You see? None of you mean it."

He opened his eyes and looked at Conway once more. "You'd all rather die than admit that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong'"

He went over to his post at the science station.

"What are you doing?" Schmidt asked.

Hobson snorted. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm saving your asses' yet again."

He looked at Perrotte. "If you put in a heading of three-five-seven-eight, we should be able to pull away' NOW!"

Perrotte punched in the coordinates.

Nothing happened.

Her voice broke as she spoke. "We've crossed the Seybold Limit."

****

"That's impossible," Hobson said, going over to her station. He punched in the coordinates once more, then went back to his station.

His hands shook. He sat down hard in his chair.

He made a noise that sounded like "huh!" Then he laughed; a short snort of a laugh.

"Well, there you go," he said. "You all get your wish. You get to die instead of giving a sincere'"

He never finished his sentence. There was a flash, and then his brains were splattered all over his station.

****

"My God, Michael," Alicia Schmidt said. "Was that really necessary?"

"No. But it felt good."