 What would happen if they didn’t change course?
There was no sensation of place, no feeling of up or down, no direction. Everything lay in readiness, fastened down star charts, instruments, glittering equipment. What speeds and perhaps, what distance? They stood for anything I might guess, and something kept pricking my mind, telling me I had no time to guess. It meant the engine or engines took up half the ship, cut off from the forward half by the instrument studded shield. I had literally been reborn in this room, equipped with half ideas, and no point to start from, no premise to seek. Complete amnesia would have been terrible enough but this half knowledge, part awareness and association with the ship was a frightening force that seemed ready to break out of me.
 They would crash into the yellow-white star.
 They would run out of oxygen before landing.  They would crash into the yellow-white star.  They would be thrown out of the sun’s orbit.  They would die before arriving back to Earth.