"Nonsense."

"What?"

"Understand me, kid. I'd like to have you with me. A time like that, having a partner at your elbow is the difference between--well, being down in the dumps and being on top. But you can stay in space, with a record as clean as a baby's."

"Huh? How?"

"Because you are changing guilds. Now only _one_ paper has to get lost--your strike-out record with the stewards, cooks, and clerks. And they will never miss it because you aren't on their books, anyhow. You start fresh with the chartsmen and computers, all neat and legal."

Max sat still and was tempted. "How about the report to the Department of Guilds and Labor?"

"Same thing. Different forms to different offices. I checked. One form gets lost, the other goes in--and Steward's Mate Jones vanishes into limbo while Apprentice Chartsman Jones starts a clean record."

"Sam, why don't _you_ do it? With the drag you've got now you could switch to ... uh, well, to ..."

"To what?" Sam shook his head sadly. "No, old son, there is nothing I can switch to. Besides, there are reasons why I had better be buried deep." He brightened. "Tell you what--I'll pick my new name before I take the jump and tell you. Then some day, two years, ten, twenty, you'll lay over at Nova Terra and look me up. We'll split a bottle and talk about when we were young and gay. Eh?"

Max smiled though he did not feel happy. "We will, Sam. We surely will." Then he frowned. "But, Sam, I don't know how to wangle the deal--and you'll be gone."

"I'll fix it before I leave. I've got Nelson eating out of my hand now. Like this: half cash down and half on delivery--and I'll fix it so that you have something on him--never mind what; you don't need to know yet. When you ground at Earthport, he asks you to mail the reports because you are going dirtside and he has work to finish. You check to see that the two reports you want are there, then you give him his pay off. Done."

Max said slowly, "I suppose that's best."

"Quit fretting. Everybody has a skeleton in the closet; the thing is to keep 'em there and not at the feast." He pushed an empty glass aside. "Kid, would you mind if we went back to the ship? Or had you planned to make a night of it?"

"No, I don't mind." Max's elation at setting foot on his first strange planet was gone--Garson's Hole was, he had to admit, a sorry sample of the Galaxy.

"Then let's get saddled up. I've got stuff to carry and I could use help."

It turned out to be four fairly large bundles which Sam had cached in public lockers. "What are they?" Max asked curiously.

"Tea cozies, old son. Thousands of them. I'm going to sell 'em to Procyon pinheads as skull caps." Somewhat affronted, Max shut up.

Everything coming into the ship was supposed to be inspected, but the acting master-at-arms on watch at the lock did not insist on examining the items belonging to the Chief Master-at-Arms any more than he would have searched a ship's officer. Max helped Sam carry the bundles to the stateroom which was the prerogative of the ship's chief of police.

11 "THROUGH THE CARGO HATCH"

From Garson's Planet to Halcyon around Nu Pegasi is a double dogleg of three transitions, of 105, 487, and 19 light-years respectively to achieve a "straight line" distance of less than 250 light-years. But neither straight-line distance nor pseudo-distance of transition is important; the _Asgard_ covered less than a light-year between gates. A distance "as the crow flies" is significant only to crows.

The first transition was barely a month out from Carson's Planet. On raising from there Kelly placed Max on a watch in three, assigning him to Kelly's own watch, which gave Max much more sleep, afforded him as much instruction (since the watch with Simes was worthless, instruction-wise), and kept Max out of Simes' way, to his enormous relief. Whether Kelly had planned that feature of it Max never knew--and did not dare ask.

Max's watch was still an instruction watch, he had no one to relieve nor to be relieved by. It became his habit not to leave the control room until Kelly did, unless told to do so. This resulted in him still being thrown into the company of Dr. Hendrix frequently, since the Astrogator relieved the Chief Computerman and Kelly would usually hang around and chat ... during which time the Astrogator would sometimes inquire into Max's progress.

Occasionally the Captain would show up on Dr. Hendrix's watch. Shortly after leaving Garson's Planet Dr. Hendrix took advantage of one such occasion to have Max demonstrate for Captain Blaine and First Officer Walther his odd talent. Max performed without a mistake although the Captain's presence made him most self-conscious. The Captain watched closely with an expression of gentle surprise. Afterwards he said, "Thank you, lad. That was amazing. Let me see--what is your name?"

"Jones, sir."

"Jones, yes." The old man blinked thoughtfully. "It must be terrifying not to be able to forget--especially in the middle of the night. Keep a clear conscience, son."

Twelve hours later Dr. Hendrix said to him, "Jones, don't go away. I want to see you."

"Yes, sir."

The Astrogator spoke with Kelly for a few moments, then again spoke to Max. "The Captain was impressed by your vaudeville act, Jones. He is wondering whether you have any parallel mathematical ability."

"Well--no, sir. I'm not a lightning calculator, that is. I saw one in a sideshow once. He could do things I couldn't."

Hendrix brushed it aside. "Not important. I believe you told me that your uncle taught you some mathematical theory?"

"Just for astrogation, sir."

"What do you think I am talking about? Do you know how to compute a transition approach?"

"Uh, I think so, sir."

"Frankly, I doubt it, no matter how much theoretical drill Brother Jones gave you. But go ahead."

"_Now_, sir?"

"Try it. Pretend you're the officer of the watch. Kelly will be your assistant. I'll just be audience. Work the approach we are on. I realize that we aren't close enough for it to matter--but you are to assume that the safety of the ship depends on it."

Max took a deep breath. "Aye aye, sir." He started to get out fresh plates for the cameras.

Hendrix said, "No!"

"Sir?"

"If you have the watch, where's your crew? Noguchi, help him."

"Aye aye, sir." Noguchi grinned and came over. While they were bending over the first camera, Noguchi whispered, "Don't let him rattle you, pal. We'll give him a good show. Kelly will help you over the humps."

But Kelly did not help; he acted as "numbers boy" and nothing else, with no hint to show whether Max was right, or wildly wrong. After Max had his sights and had taken his comparison data between plates and charts he did not put the problem through the computer himself, but let Noguchi man the machine, with Kelly translating. After a long time and much sweat the lights blinked what he hoped was the answer.

Dr. Hendrix said nothing but took the same plates to the tank and started to work the problem again, with the same crew. Very quickly the lights blinked on again; the Astrogator took the tables from Kelly and looked up the translation himself. "We differ only in the ninth decimal place. Not bad."

"I was wrong only in the ninth place, sir?"

"I didn't say that. Perhaps I was more in error."

Max started to grin, but Dr. Hendrix frowned. "Why didn't you take doppler spectra to check?"

Max felt a cold chill. "I guess I forgot, sir."

"I thought you were the man who never forgot?"

Max thought intuitively--and correctly--that two kinds of memory were involved, but he did not have a psychologist's jargon with which to explain. One sort was like forgetting one's hat in a restaurant, that could happen to anyone; the other was being unable to recall what the mind had once known.