He flushed. “Sorry, sir.”

“You’re a good officer,” I said. “But don’t nag.”

His smile was weak. “Aye aye, sir.” He changed the subject. “Have you ever played chess, sir?”

I came awake. “Yes, why?”

“I’m not very good, but I like to play. I’ll bet your puter plays a mean game, though.”

“Thank you.” Darla, in a dignified tone.

“I can’t play on the bridge, Lars. You know that.”

“Really? Captain Halstead played all the time. I loved to watch. Once he actually beat the puter.”

The speaker said, “She must have had an off day.”

“Butt out, Darla,” I growled. Then, “He actually played on watch?” Hope stirred.

Chantir said, “Sure, when we were Fused. What else is there to do?”

“Isn’t it against regs?”

“I read them again, sir, before bringing it up. They say you must stay alert. They don’t say you can’t read or play a game. All the alarms have audible signals, anyway.”

“I’ll warn you if we have a problem,” the puter said helpfully.

“Is this a conspiracy? Darla, did you ever play with an officer on watch?”

“Lots of us do. Janet said she sometimes let Halstead win just to keep his spirits up.”

‘“Captain Halstead’ to you. Janet is their puter, I suppose? When did you talk to her?”

“When her ship docked at Hope Nation to bring you your only intelligent officer, Midshi--I mean, Captain Seafort. I tightbeamed with her as a matter of routine.”

“Who did you play chess with, Darla?”

“Captain Haag, of course. He wasn’t much of a match.”

She sounded disconsolate.

I was flabbergasted. Justin Haag, whiling away the hours playing chess with his puter? I debated. “All right, set them up.”

She won in thirty-seven moves.

It relaxed me so much that I stood double watches just to be near her. After a week I rationed myself to one game a day; any more and I’d become addicted. When a game was over I busied myself studying my moves.

One happy day I forced a draw. A few hours later Alexi reported for duty, relieving Lieutenant Crossburn, who had radiated his silent disapproval during my game.

I was still jovial. “Take your seat, Mr. Tamarov.”

He gripped the back of his chair. “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t sit.” A vein throbbed in his forehead.

My contentment vanished. “Have you been to Mr.

Chantir?”

“I just came from his cabin.” He stared straight ahead at the darkened screen.

“What for?”

“Nothing, sir. Absolutely nothing.” A long moment passed. “Sir, I want to resign from the Navy.”

“Permission refused,” I said instantly. I hesitated. “I’m sorry, Alexi.” I didn’t know what else to offer.

“Yes, sir.” His voice was flat. He added, “Do you have

a reason?”

“For what?”

“Waiting. Not doing anything about him.”

“You’re out of line, Mr. Tamarov.”

“I don’t think I care anymore, sir.”

I cast aside my rebuke. “Yes. There’s a reason.” I nodded to the hatch. “You’re relieved, Alexi. Lie down for a while.”

“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d rather stay here.” I understood.

On the bridge he was safe from the first middy.

“Very well.” I let him wait out the watch. Afterwards I ordered him to Dr. Uburu for healing ointment. He had no choice but to go. I think he was grateful.

I played no more chess for several days.

Mr. Crossburn performed his duties satisfactorily, as always. On his free time he roamed about the ship, asking questions. He finally exhausted the matter of the Treadwells.

Mr. Vishinsky brought me the news first. “Captain, I’ve been interrogated by one of our officers.” He stood at attention beside my chair.

“What about, Mr. Vishinsky?” No need to ask by whom.

“About Captain Haag’s death, sir. About how the launch happened to explode, and how the puter came to be glitched.

An implication was made that it was no accident.”

My heart pounded. “You know better than to tell tales on a superior officer, Mr. Vishinsky. You’re rebuked.”

“Yes, sir.” He appeared undisturbed. “What should I do when he questions me, sir?”

“If he orders you to answer, do so. Obey all orders else place yourself on report.”

“Aye aye, sir. May I go?”

“Yes.” I watched him leave. “Thank you,” I added, as the hatch closed behind him. I willed my heart to stop slamming against my ribs. Crossburn was a lunatic. He was only a step from endangering the ship.

As soon as my watch was done I went to my cabin. I stared into my mirror. “You’re the Captain,” I told my image. It gave no response. “You have the authority. Remember Vax’s story about his uncle, the lawyer? He had to remind himself that his clients weren’t in trouble because he’d failed them, but because they had fouled up in the first place.”

I scowled at myself in the mirror. “So why do you feel guilty?”

A rhetorical question; I already knew the answer. If I were competent, I’d have found a way to avoid this mess.

“But don’t they have it coming, nonetheless?”

I started at myself for a long while, then sighed. I still felt guilty.

At lunch I chose to sit next to Mr. Crossburn instead of at the small table where I would be undisturbed.

He started almost immediately. “What kind of man was Captain Haag, sir?”

“Well, I was just a middy. To me he seemed remote and stern. They say he was an excellent navigator and pilot.” 1 took a bite out of my sandwich, decided to give Mr. Crossburn more rope. “His death was a tragic loss.”

He seized the opportunity. “How could a puter glitch have gone undiscovered so long, before it destroyed the launch? If you’re sure it wasn’t known earlier, that is.”

I spoke very quietly. “I can’t tell you now. See me after lunch; we’ll talk then. I have a job for you.”

“Aye aye, sir.” We ate in silence. I pretended not to notice his speculative glance.

I waited for him in my cabin. When the knock came ! went out, shutting my hatch behind me. “Come with me.

Lieutenant.” I took him down to Level 2, through the lock into the launch berth, where our new launch waited in its gantry. “This is where it was,” I said. He looked puzzled.

Of course this was where it was. Where else would you stow a ship’s launch? “I need someone I can trust.” Galvanized, he leaned forward with excitement. “It might have been sabotage,” I said with care. “A bomb hidden in one of the seats. It could happen again. I need you to check the seats.”

“You mean take the seats apart? Unbolt them all and remove them?”

“That’s right.” I waited while he thought it over. “I know I can trust you, Lieutenant Crossburn. With your Admiralty connections you’re invaluable.”

A look of satisfaction crossed his face. “I’ll get a work party on it right away.”

“Oh, no.” I looked alarmed. “Nobody must know. If it really is sabotage, we can’t tip them off. Do it yourself.”

“Alone?” He seemed disconcerted. “It’ll take all day, sir.”

“I know. It can’t be helped. Unbolt all the seats, take them out, open them for inspection. I’ll come back later to see how you’re doing. We won’t put the seats back until we’re sure they’re all right.”

“Aye aye, sir.” His tone was doubtful. “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Very sure.” I left him.

I posted orders at the launch berth hatch that no one was to enter, and went about my business. An hour before dinner I went to check on him.

About half of the fourteen seats had been removed, their components spread about the bay. Crossburn had draped his jacket over one of them and pulled off his tie. I found him in the launch, on his back under one of the seats, struggling to work loose the bolts.

“Good work, Lieutenant. Find anything yet?”

“No, sir. Everything’s normal.” He wriggled out from underneath the seat.

“No, stay where you are. I’ll be.back later.” I went to dinner. I ate well.

It was past midnight before he finished reassembling the launch. I met him coming out of the berth, face smeared with grease, jacket slung over his arm.