erator, but the other team--"

"Let me know who's ahead from time to time, will you?" Hansen heard himself
say.

"Glad to oblige," the navigator said, yawning again. "Oh, incidentally,
have they sent for help yet?"

* * * * *

Hansen said with some surprise, "Why, as a matter of fact, Sector
Headquarters is sending some help. How did you know?"

"Bound to happen sooner or later, old man. When the going really gets tough
they always get around to sending a Gypsy. Only way to get anything done,
you know."

"I don't know," Hansen said reluctantly. "Why is it that everyone knows
except me? What, please, is a Gypsy?"

"You're too young to know everything, old man," the navigator said. "You're
especially too young to know about one of the Federation's best kept
secrets. But you might as well, I suppose. The fact is that a Gypsy is a
generally vagrant, dirty, thieving, clever scoundrel who will not work, who
has absolutely no respect for order or authority, who believes that our
institutions are effete and--"

"But then why--"

"Patience, patience," cautioned the navigator, haughtily, "if I am to
reveal everything I know, I must do it in my own way. The description I
just gave you is not necessarily true. It is simply the way that Sector
Headquarters feels about Gypsies. Common jealousy, really. It seems that
from time to time, our perfect little galactic society spawns men who don't
care to be cast in the common mold. In short, there are a few men around
with brains who don't think that it means very much to wear pretty uniforms
or fancy titles."

"Uniforms like yours?" asked Hansen.

"Precisely," the navigator said sadly. "The truth of the matter is, of
course, that I only play at being a navigator. I couldn't get this ship off
course, if I tried. The same is true with the four engineering officers who
stand around watching the Hegler drive units. They occasionally make a
ceremonial adjustment, but beyond that, they simply stand around looking
pretty."

"No moving parts." Hansen said.

"No moving brains, if you like. Anyway, a Gypsy has--somewhere along the
line--learned how to do things. They'll take an emergency call about once a
year--if they happen to feel like it. Then they charge about half a million
credits."

"You mean they have an organization, standard rates and--"

"Heavens no!" the navigator said. "They hate anything that smells like
organization. They don't even