He looked back at his desk and I got sore. I had been seesawing between a feeling of consecrated loyalty to the ship and to the Captain as the head thereof, and an equally strong desire to kick Urqhardt in the stomach. One kind word from him and I think I would have been his boy, come what may. As it was, I was sore.

"Captain!"

He looked up. "Yes?"

"I think you owe me an apology."

"You do? I do not think so. I acted in the interest of the whole ship. However, I harbor no ill feelings, if that is of any interest to you." He looked back at his work, dismissing me... as if my hard feelings, if any, were of no possible importance.

So I got out and reported to Mr. Eastman. There didn't seem to be anything else to do.

Mei-Ling was in the comm office, sending code groups. She glanced up and I noticed that she looked tired. Mr. Eastman said, "Hello, Tom. I'm glad you're here; we need you. Will you raise your telepartner, please?"

One good thing about having a telepath run the special watch list is that other people don't seem to realize that the other end of each pair—the Earthside partner—is not a disembodied spirit. They eat and sleep and work and raise families, and they can't be on call whenever somebody decides to send a message. "Is it an emergency?" I asked, glancing at the Greenwich and then at the ship's clock, Vicky wouldn't check with me for another half hour; she might be at home and free, or she might not be.

"Perhaps not 'emergency' but 'urgent' certainly."

So I called Vicky and she said she did not mind. ("Code groups, Freckle Face,") I told her. ("So set your recorder on 'play back.' ")

"It's quivering, Uncle Tom. Agitate at will."

For three hours we sent code groups, than which there is nothing more tedious. I assumed that it was probably Captain Urqhardt's report of what had happened to us on Elysia, or more likely his second report after the LRF had jumped him for more details. There was no reason to code it so far as I was concerned; I had been there—so it must be to keep it from our telepartners until LRF decided to release it. This suited me as I would not have relished passing all that blood and slaughter, in clear language, to little Vicky.

While we were working the Captain came in and sat down with Mr. Eastman; I could see that they were cooking up more code groups; the Captain was dictating and Eastman was working the encoding machine. Mei-Ling had long since gone. Finally Vicky said faintly, "Uncle Tom, how urgent are these anagrams? Mother called me to dinner half an hour ago.

("Hang on and I'll find out.") I turned to the Captain and Mr. Eastman, not sure of which one to ask. But I caught Eastman's eye and said, "Mr. Eastman, how rush is this

stuff? We want to—"

"Don't interrupt us," the Captain cut in. "Just keep on transmitting. The priority is not your concern."

"Captain, you don't understand; I'm not speaking for myself. I was about to say—"

"Carry on with your work."

I said to Vicky, ("Hold on a moment, hon.") Then I sat back and said, "Aye aye, Captain. I'm perfectly willing to keep on spelling eye charts an night. But there is nobody at the other end."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it is dinner time and way past for my partner. If you want special duty at the Earthside end, you'd better coordinate with the LRF comm office. Seems to me that somebody has the watch list all mixed up."

"I see." As usual he showed no expression. I was beginning to think he was all robot, with wires instead of veins.

"Very well, Mr. Eastman, get Mr. McNeil and have him relieve Mr. Bartlett."

"Yes, Captain."

"Excuse me, Captain..."

"Yes, Bartlett?"

"Possibly you don't know that Unc's partner lives in Greenwich zone minus-two. It's the middle of the night there—and she is an old lady, past seventy-five. I thought maybe you would want to know."

"Mmm, is that right, Eastman?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Cancel that last order. Bartlett, is your partner willing to go on again after an hour's break for chow? Without clearing it with LRF?"

"I'll see, sir." I spoke to Vicky; she hesitated. I said, ("What is it, Freckle Face? A date with George? Say the word and I'll tell Captain Bligh he can't have you.")

"Oh, it's all right. I'll throw the switch on George. I just wish they would give us something besides alphabet soup. Okay, one hour."

("One hour, sugar plum. Run and eat your salad. Mind your waistline.")

"My waistline is just line, thank you."

"Okay, Captain."

"Very well. Please thank him for me."

He was so indifferent about it that I added a touch of my own. "My partner is a girl, Captain, not a "him." Her mother has placed a two-hour curfew on it. Otherwise it must be arranged with LRF."

"So. Very well." He turned to Eastman. "Can't we manage to coordinate these communication watches?"

"I'm trying, Captain. But it is new to me. .. and we have only three watchstanders left."

"A watch in three should not be too difficult. Yet there always seems to be some reason why we can't transmit. Comment?"

"Well, sir, you saw the difficulty just now. It's a matter of coordinating with Earth. Uh, I believe the special communicators usually arranged that themselves. Or one of them did."

"Which one? Mr. McNeil?"

"I believe Bartlett usually handled it, sir."

"So. Bartlett?"

"I did, sir."

"Very well, you have the job again. Arrange a continuous watch." He started to get up.

How do you tell the Captain he can't have his bucket ofpaint? Aye aye, sir. But just a minute, Captain—"

"Yes?"

"Do I understand you are authorizing me to arrange a continuous watch with LRF? Signed with your release number?"

"Naturally."

"Well, what do I do if they won't agree to such long hours for the old lady? Ask for still longer hours for the other two? In the case of my partner, you'll run into parent trouble; she's a young girl."

"So. I can't see why the home office hired such people."

I didn't say anything. If he didn't know that you don't hire telepaths the way you hire butchers I wasn't going to explain.

But he persisted. "Comment?"

"I have no comment, sir. You can't get more than three or four hours a day out of any of them, except in extreme emergency. Is this one? If it is, I can arrange it without bothering the home office."

He did not answer directly. Instead he said, "Arrange the best watch list you can. Consult with Mr. Eastman." As he turned to leave I caught a look of unutterable weariness on his face and suddenly felt sorry for him. At least I didn't want to swap jobs with him.

Vicky took a trick in the middle of the night, over Kathleen's objections. Kathleen wanted to take it herself, but the truth was that she and I could no longer work easily without Vicky in the circuit, at least not anything as difficult as code groups.

The Captain did not come in to breakfast and I got there late. I looked around and found a place by Janet Meers. We no longer sat by departments—just one big horseshoe table, with the rest of the mess room arranged to look like a lounge, so that it would not seem so empty.

I was just digging into scrambled yeast on toast when Mr. Eastman stood up and tapped a glass for attention. He looked as if he had not slept for days. "Quiet, please. I have a message from the Captain." He pulled out a sheet and started to read:

" 'Notice to All Hands: By direction of the Long Range Foundation the mission of this ship has been modified. We will remain in the neighborhood of Beta Ceti pending rendezvous with Foundation Ship Serendipity. Rendezvous is expected in approximately one month. Immediately thereafter we will shape orbit for Earth.