Ah, but the brain _won't_ be unloaded, Mister Vaneski," he said mildly.
"The ship will be _dismantled_--which is an entirely different thing.
I'm afraid you can't call it a cargo ship on those grounds."

Vaneski didn't say anything. His face had gone red and then white, as
though he'd suddenly realized he'd committed a _faux pas_. He nodded his
head a little, to show he understood, but he couldn't seem to find his
voice.

To cover up Vaneski's emotional dilemma, Mike addressed the Medical
Officer. "What do you think, Mister Mellon?"

Mellon cleared his throat. "Well--it seems to me," he said in a dry,
serious tone, "that this is really a medical ship."

Mike blinked. Keku raised his eyebrows. Vaneski swallowed and jerked his
eyes away from Mike's face to look at Mellon--but still he didn't say
anything.

"Elucidate, my dear Doctor," said Mike with interest.

"I diagnose it as a physician," Mellon said in the same dry, earnest
tone. "Snookums, we have been told, is too dangerous to be permitted to
remain on Earth. I take this to mean that he is potentially capable of
doing something that would either harm the planet itself or a
majority--if not all--of the people on it." He picked up his cup of
coffee and took a sip. Nobody interrupted him.

"Snookums has, therefore," he continued, "been removed from Earth in
order to protect the health of that planet, just as one would remove a
potentially malignant tumor from a human body.

"This is a medical ship. Q.E.D." And only then did he smile.

"Aw, now...." Vaneski began. Then he shut his mouth again.

With an inward smile, Mike realized that Ensign Vaneski had been taking
seriously an argument that was strictly a joke.

"Mister Mellon," Mike said, "you win." He hadn't realized that Mellon's
mind could work on that level.

"Hold," said Lieutenant Keku, raising a hand. "I yield to no one in my
admiration for the analysis given by our good doctor; indeed, my
admiration knows no bounds. But I insist we hear from Commander Gabriel
before we adjourn."

"Not me," Mike said, shaking his head. "I know when I'm beaten." He'd
been going to suggest that the _Brainchild_ was a training ship, from
Snookums' "learning" periods, but that seemed rather obvious and puerile
now.

He glanced at his watch, saw the time, and stood up. "Excuse me,
gentlemen; I have things to do." He had an appointment to talk to Leda
Crannon, but he had no intention of broadcasting it.

As he clos