worrying about any components he might have
"requisitioned" seemed almost irreverent to Mike. Budget Control would
gladly have given that eminent physicist a good half of the entire
space station, if he had expressed his needs through the proper
channels--as a matter of fact, anything on board that wasn't actually
essential to the lives of those on the satellite.

* * * * *

But Ishie seemed genuinely unaware of his true status, and the high
regard in which he was held. Besides, Mike suspected in him a
constitutional inability to deal through channels.

Recognizing the true sensitivity that underlay Ishie's constant humor
and ridicule of himself, Mike kept himself from laughing aloud at the
stealth of the man who could have commanded the assistance of the
captain himself in shielding whatever he thought it necessary to
shield.

Instead, he carefully kept his face solemn while he commented: "It
ought to fit in that rack over there." He pointed to a group of
half-filled racks. "We can slip a fake panel on it. Nobody will be
able to tell it from any of the other control circuits."

Ishie heaved a deep sigh of relief and grinned his normal grin.
"Confusion say," he declared, "that ninety-six pound weakling who
struggle down shaft with six hundred pound object, even in free fall,
should have stood in bed."

It took the two of them the better part of half an hour to get the
unit into place; to disguise its presence; and to make proper power
connections. Ishie had objected at first to connecting it up, and Mike
explained his insistence by saying that "If it looks like something
that works, nobody will look at it twice. But if it looks like
something dead, one of my boys is apt to take it apart to see what
it's supposed to be doing." He didn't mention his real reason--a heady
desire to run a few tests on the instrument himself.

The job done, the two sat back on their heels, admiring their
handiwork like bad boys.

"Coffee?" asked Mike.

"Snarl. Honorable ancestor Confusion doesn't even need to tell me what
to do now. My toy is safe. I am going to bed. I have worked without
stopping for two days and now the flare has stopped me.

"Confusion decide to relent. He tell me now: 'He who drive self like
slave for forty-eight hours is nuts and should be sent to bed.' I
hope," he added, "that the hammocks are soft; but I don't think I
shall notice. I know just where to go for I checked in on