n-year-old blonde. "I can't read this funny-picture, it's been
folded too many times. Where does this lead go to?"

"Data insufficient. Careful, Vingie; I'd hate to have to send you back
to school."

"'Scuse, please, Junior. Unit Six, Sub-Assembly Tee Dash Ni-yun.
Terminal Fo-wer. From said terminal, there's a lead--Bee Sub
something-or-other--goes somewhere. Where?"

"B sub Four. It goes to Unit Seven, Sub-Assembly Q dash Three, Terminal
Two. And watch your insulation--that's a mighty hot lead."

"Uh-huh, I got that. Double Sink Mill Mill; Class Albert Dog Kittens.
Thanks, boss!"

* * *

"Hi, Jim," Garlock said. Then, to Delcamp. "I see you're rolling."

"_He's_ rolling, you mean." Delcamp had not yet recovered fully from a
state of near-shock. "So _that's_ what an eidetic memory is? He knows
every nut, bolt, lead, and coil in the ship!"

"More than that. He's checking every move everybody makes. When they're
done, you won't have to just hope everything was put together
right--you'll _know_ it was."

Jim was their man.

* * *

And Fao sidled over toward Belle. There was something new about the
silver-haired girl, Belle decided instantly. The difference was
slight--Belle couldn't put her finger on it at first. She
seemed--quieter? Softer? More subdued? No, definitely. More feminine?
No; that would be impossible. More ... more adult? Belle hated to admit
it, even to herself, but that was what it was.

"Deg and I got married day before yesterday," Fao confided, via tight
beam.

"Oh--so you're _pregnant!_"

"Of course. I saw to that the first thing. I knew you'd want to be the
first one to know. Oh, isn't it _wonderful_?" She seized Belle's arm and
hugged it ecstatically against her side. "Just too perfectly marvelous
for _anything_?"

"Oh, I'm sure it is; and I'm so happy for you, Fao!" And it would have
taken the mind of a Garlock to perceive anything either false or forced
in thought or bearing.

Nevertheless, when Belle went into Garlock's room that night, storm
signals were flying high in her almost-topaz eyes.

"Fao Talaho-Delcamp is _pregnant_!" she stormed, "and it's all _your_
fault!"

"Uh-huh," he demurred, trying to snap her out of her obviously savage
mood. "Not me, ace. Not a chance in the world. It was Deggi."

"You ... you _weasel_! You know very well, Clee Garlock, what I meant.
If you hadn't given her that treatment she'd hav