d Mike.

"No!"

"Fact."

"My God, how horrible!" She put her hand over her eyes in mock horror.

"Let's talk about you," said Mike. "You're much prettier than Serge
Paulvitch."

"Well, I should hope so! But really, there's nothing to tell. I went to
school. B.S. at fourteen, M.S. at sixteen, Ph.D. at eighteen. Then I
went to work for C.C. of E., and I've been there ever since. I've never
been engaged, I've never been married, and I'm still a virgin. Anything
else?"

"No runs, no hits, no errors," said Mike the Angel.

She grinned back impishly. "I haven't been up to bat yet, Commander
Gabriel."

"Then I suggest you grab some sort of club to defend yourself, because
I'm going to be in there pitching."

The smile on her face faded, to be replaced by a look that was neither
awe nor surprise, but partook of both.

"You really mean that, don't you?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"I do," said Mike the Angel.

* * * * *

Commander Peter Jeffers was in the Control Bridge when Mike the Angel
stepped in through the door. Jeffers was standing with his back to the
door, facing the bank of instruments that gave him a general picture of
the condition of the whole ship.

Overhead, the great dome of the ship's nose allowed the gleaming points
of light from the star field ahead to shine down on those beneath
through the heavy, transparent shield of the cast transite and the
invisible screen of the external field.

Mike walked over and tapped Pete Jeffers on the shoulder.

"Busy?"

Jeffers turned around slowly and grinned. "Hullo, old soul. Naw, I ain't
busy. Nothin' outside but stars, and we don't figger on gettin' too
close to 'em right off the bat. What's the beef?"

"I have," said Mike the Angel succinctly, "goofed."

Jeffers' keen eyes swept analytically over Mike the Angel's face. "You
want a drink? I snuck a spot o' brandy aboard, and just by purty ole
coincidence, there's a bottle right over there in the speaker housing."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned away from Mike and walked
toward the cabinet that held the intercom speaker. Meantime, he went
right on talking.

"Great stuff, brandy. French call it _eau de vie_, and that, in case you
don't know it, means 'water of life.' You want a little, eh, ol' buddy?
Sure you do." By this time, he'd come back with the bottle and a pair of
glasses and was pouring a good dose into each one. "On the other hand,
the Irish gave