ed the wardroom door, he heard Ensign Vaneski's voice saying:
"I _still_ say this should be classified as a cargo ship."

Mike sighed as he strode on down the companionway. The ensign was, of
course, absolutely correct--which was the sad part about it, really. Oh
well, what the hell.

Leda Crannon had agreed to have coffee with Mike in the office suite she
shared with Dr. Fitzhugh. Mike had had one cup in the officers'
wardroom, but even if he'd had a dozen he'd have been willing to slosh
down a dozen more to talk to Leda Crannon. It was not, he insisted to
himself, that he was in love with the girl, but she had intelligence and
personality in addition to her striking beauty.

Furthermore, she had given Mike the Angel a dressing-down that had been
quite impressive. She had not at all cared for the remarks he had made
when Snookums was being loaded aboard--patting him on the head and
asking him his age, for instance--and had told him so in no uncertain
terms. Mike, feeling sheepish and knowing he was guilty, had accepted
the tongue-lashing and tendered an apology.

And she had smiled and said: "All right. Forget it. I'm sorry I got
mad."

He knew he wasn't the only man aboard who was interested in Leda. Jakob
von Liegnitz, all Teutonic masterfulness and Old World suavity, had
obviously made a favorable impression on her. Lew Mellon was often seen
in deep philosophical discussions with her, his eyes never leaving her
face and his earnest voice low and confidential. Both of them had known
her longer than he had, since they'd both been stationed at Chilblains
Base.

Mike the Angel didn't let either of them worry him. He had enough
confidence in his own personality and abilities to be able to take his
own tack no matter which way the wind blew.

Blithely opening the door of the office, Mike the Angel stepped inside
with a smile on his lips.

"Ah, good afternoon, Commander Gabriel," said Dr. Morris Fitzhugh.

Mike kept the smile on his face. "Leda here?"

Fitzhugh chuckled. "No. Some problems came up with Snookums. She'll be
in session for an hour yet. She asked me to convey her apologies." He
gestured toward the coffee urn. "But the coffee's all made, so you may
as well have a cup."

Mike was thankful he had not had a dozen cups in the wardroom. "I don't
mind if I do, Doctor." He sat down while Fitzhugh poured a cup.

"Cream? Sugar?"

"Black, thanks," Mike said.

There was an awkward silence for a few secon