iked what she saw. "How was I to know
who you were?"

"It might have been written on my pocket handkerchief," said Mike the
Angel, "but Space Service officers don't carry pocket handkerchiefs."

"What?" The puzzled look had returned.

"Ne' mind," said Mike. "Sit down, won't you?"

"Oh, I can't, thanks. I came to get Fitz; a meeting of the Research
Board has been called, and afterward we have to give a lecture or
something to the officers of the _Brainchild_."

"You mean the _Branchell_?"

Her smile became an impish grin. "You call it what you want. To us, it's
the _Brainchild_."

Dr. Fitzhugh said: "Will you excuse us, Commander? We'll be seeing you
at the briefing later."

Mike nodded. "I'd better get on my way, too. I'll see you."

But he stood there as Leda Crannon and Dr. Fitzhugh walked away. The
girl looked just as divine retreating as she had advancing.

9

Captain Sir Henry (Black Bart) Quill was seated in an old-fashioned,
formyl-covered, overstuffed chair, chewing angrily at the end of an
unlighted cigar. His bald head gleamed like a pink billiard ball, almost
matching the shining glory of his golden insignia against his scarlet
tunic.

Mike the Angel had finally found his way through the maze of underground
passageways to the door marked _wardroom 9_ and had pushed it open
gingerly, halfway hoping that he wouldn't be seen coming in late but not
really believing it would happen.

He was right. Black Bart was staring directly at the door when it slid
open. Mike shrugged inwardly and stepped boldly into the room, flicking
a glance over the faces of the other officers present.

"Well, well, well, Mister Gabriel," said Black Bart. The voice was oily,
but the oil was oil of vitriol. "You not only come late, but you come
incognito. Where is your uniform?"

There was a muffled snicker from one of the junior officers, but it
wasn't muffled enough. Before Mike the Angel could answer, Captain
Quill's head jerked around.

"That will do, Mister Vaneski!" he barked. "Boot ensigns don't snicker
when their superiors--_and_ their betters--are being reprimanded! I only
use sarcasm on officers I respect. Until an officer earns my sarcasm, he
gets nothing but blasting when he goofs off. Understand?"

The last word was addressed to the whole group.

Ensign Vaneski colored, and his youthful face became masklike. "Yes,
sir. Sorry, sir."

Quill didn't even bother to answer; he looked back at Mike the