Out of the corner of his mouth the waiter said, "Cooking."

"Huh? Where's the chef?"

The steward's mate leaned down and whispered, "Frenchy is boiled as a judge. I guess he couldn't take it. You know."

Max let him go. Mr. Arthur said sharply, "What did he tell you?"

"I was trying to find out what went wrong in the galley," Max answered. "Seems the cook incapacitated himself." He spooned up a mouthful of the soup. "From the taste I'd say he had burned his thumb in this so-called chowder. Pretty bad, isn't it?"

Max was saved from further evasions by the arrival of the First Officer. Mr. Walther went to the Captain's table and banged on a glass with a spoon. "Your attention, please!"

He waited for quiet, then took a paper from his pocket. "I have an announcement to make on behalf of the Captain. Those of you who are familiar with the theory of astrogation are aware that space is changing constantly, due to the motions of the stars, and that consequently no two trips are exactly alike. Sometimes it is necessary, for this reason, to make certain changes in a ship's routing. Such a circumstance has arisen in this present trip and the _Asgard_ will be somewhat delayed in reaching her next destination. We regret this, but we can't change the laws of nature. We hope that you will treat it as a minor inconvenience--or even as additional vacation, in the friendly and comfortable atmosphere of our ship. Please remember, too, that the insurance policy accompanying your ticket covers you completely against loss or damage you may be cost through the ship being behind schedule."

He put away the paper; Max had the impression that he had not actually been reading from it. "That is all that the Captain had to say, but I want to add something myself. It has come to my attention that someone has been spreading silly rumors about this minor change in schedule. I am sorry if any of you have been alarmed thereby and I assure you that I will take very strict measures if the originator can be identified." He risked a dignified smile. "But you know how difficult it is to trace down a bit of gossip. In any case, I want to assure you all that the _Asgard_ is in no danger of any sort. The old girl was plying space long before any of us were born, she'll still be going strong after we all die of old age--bless her sturdy bones!" He turned and left at once.

Max had listened in open-mouthed admiration. He came from country where the "whopper" was a respected literary art and it seemed to him that he had never heard a lie told with more grace, never seen one interwoven with truth with such skill, in his life. Piece by piece, it was impossible to say that anything the First Officer had said was untrue; taken as a whole it was a flat statement that the _Asgard_ was not lost--a lie if he ever heard one. He turned back toward his table mates. "Will someone pass the butter, please?"

Mr. Arthur caught his eye. "And you told us," he said sharply, "that nothing was wrong!"

Mr. Daigler growled, "Lay off him, Arthur. Max did pretty well, under the circumstances."

Mrs. Weberbauer looked bewildered. "But Mr. Walther said that everything was all right?"

Daigler looked at her with compassion. "We're in trouble, Mama Weberbauer. That's obvious. But all we can do is keep calm and trust the ship's officers. Right, Max?"

"I guess that's right, sir."

15 "THIS ISN'T A PICNIC"

Max kept to his room that evening and the next day, wishing neither to be questioned by passengers nor to answer questions about why he had been relieved of duty. In consequence he missed the riot, having slept through it. He first heard of it when the steward's mate who tended his room showed up with a black eye. "Who gave you the shiner, Garcia?"

"I'm not sure, sir. It happened in the ruckus last night."

"Ruckus? What ruckus?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"This is the first I've heard of it. What happened?"

Garcia Lopez stared at the overhead. "Well--I wouldn't want to say too much. You know how it is-- nobody wants to testify against a mate. No?"

"Who asked you to peach on a mate? You don't have to mention names--but what happened?"

"Well, sir. Some of those chicos, they ain't got much sense." Slowly Max learned that the unrest among the crew had been greater than that among the passengers, possibly because they understand more clearly the predicament. Some of them had consulted with Giordano's poor-man's vodka, then had decided to call on the Captain in a body and demand straight talk. The violence had taken place when the master-at-arms had attempted to turn them back at the companionway to "C" deck.

"Anybody hurt?"

"Not what you'd call hurt. Cut up a little. I picked this up ..." He touched his eye tenderly. "... from being too anxious to see what was going on. Slats Kovak busted an ankle."

"Kovak! Why would _he_ be in it?" It did not make sense that a member of the Worry gang should take part in anything so unreasonable.

"He was coming down, coming off watch, I guess. Maybe he was backing up the constable. Or maybe he just got caught in the swinging doors. Your friend Sam Anderson was sure in the thick of it."

Sam! Max felt sick at heart--Sam in trouble _again!_ "You're sure?"

"I was there."

"Uh, he wasn't leading it, was he?"

"Oh, you got me wrong, M-- Mr. Jones. He settled it. I never see a man who could use his hands like that. He'd grab two of 'em ... _clop!_ their heads would come together. Then he would grab two more."

Max decided to come out of hiding and do two things; look up Kovak, find out how he was and what he might need or want, and second, look up Sam. But before he could leave Smythe arrived with a watch list to initial. He found that he was assigned watch-and-watch with Simes--and that he himself was due on watch immediately. He went up, wondering what had caused Simes to relent.

Kelly was in the control room; Max looked around, did not see Simes. "You got it, Chief?"

"Until you relieve me. This is my last watch."

"How's that? Are you his pet peeve now?"

"You could say so. But not the way you think, Max. He drew up a watch list with him and me heel-and-toe. I politely pointed out the guild rules, that I wasn't being paid to take the responsibility of top watch."

"Oh, brother! What did he say?"

"What could he say? He could order me in writing and I could accept in writing, with my objection to the orders entered in the log--and his neck is out a yard. Which left him his choice of putting you back on the list, asking the Captain to split it with him, or turning his cap around and relieving himself for the next few weeks. With Kovak laid up it didn't leave him much choice. You heard about Kovak?"

"Yes. Say, what was that?" Max glanced over where Noguchi was loafing at the computer and lowered his voice. "Mutiny?"

Kelly's eyes grew round. "Why, as I understand it, sir, Kovak slipped and fell down a companionway."

"Oh. Like that, huh?"

"That's what it says in the log."

"Hmm ... well, I guess I had better relieve you. What's the dope?"

They were in orbit under power for the nearby G-type star; the orders were entered in the Captain's order book ... in Simes' handwriting but with Captain Blaine's signature underneath. To Max it looked shaky, as if the Old Man had signed it under emotional stress. Kelly had already placed them in the groove. "Have we given up trying to find out where we are?" Max asked.

"Oh, no. Orders are to spend as much time as routine permits on it. But I'll lay you seven to two you don't find anything. Max, this is somewhere else entirely."

"Don't give up. How do you know?"

"I feel it."

Nevertheless Max spent the watch "fishing." But with no luck. Spectrograms, properly taken and measured, are to stars what fingerprints are to men; they can be classified and comparisons made with those on file which are most nearly similar. While he found many which matched fairly closely with catalogued spectra, there was always the difference that makes one identical twin not quite like his brother.