Bring it in, and we'll take a look at it."

They went back into the Maintenance Section, and Vaneski spread the suit
out on the worktable. There was an obvious rough spot on the right
sleeve. "Looks bad," said Vaneski. "I'll run a test right away."

"Okay," said Mike. "I'll leave it to you. Can I pick it up in the
morning?"

"I think so. If it needs a patch, we'll have to test the patch, of
course, but we should be able to finish it pretty quickly." He shrugged.
"If we can't, sir, you'll just have to wait. Unless you want us to start
altering a suit to your measurements."

"Which would take longer?"

"Altering a suit."

"Okay. Just patch this one, then. What can I do?"

"I'll get it out as fast as possible, sir," said Vaneski with a smile.

"Fine. I'll see you later, then." Mike, like Cleopatra, was not prone to
argue. He left maintenance and headed toward the wardroom for a game of
_Uma ni to_. But when he met Leda Crannon going up the stairway,
all thoughts of card games flitted from his mind with the careless
nonchalance of a summer butterfly.

"Hullo," he said, pulling himself up a little straighter. He was tired,
but not _that_ tired.

Her smile brushed the cobwebs from his mind. But a second look told him
that there was worry behind the smile.

"Hi, Mike," she said softly. "You look beat."

"I am," admitted Mike. "To a frazzle. Have I told you that I love you?"

"Once, I think. Maybe twice." Her eyes seemed to light up somewhere from
far back in her head. "But enough of this mad passion," she said. "I
want an invitation to have a drink--a stiff one."

"I'll steal Jeffers' bottle," Mike offered. "What's the trouble?"

Her smile faded, and her eyes became grave. "I'm scared, Mike; I want to
talk to you."

"Come along, then," Mike said.

* * * * *

Mike the Angel poured two healthy slugs of Pete Jeffers' brandy into a
pair of glasses, added ice and water, and handed one to Leda Crannon
with a flourish. And all the time, he kept up a steady line of gentle
patter.

"It may interest you to know," he said chattily, "that the learned
Mister Treadmore has been furnishing me with the most fascinating
information." He lifted up his own glass and looked into its amber
depths.

They were in his stateroom, and this time the door was closed--at her
insistence. She had explained that she didn't want to be overheard, even
by passing crew members.

He swizzled the ice arou