without capitals. He walked toward it. There was another
guard at the door who had to see Mike's ID card before Mike was allowed
in.

Lieutenant Tokugawa Nariaki was an average-sized, sleepy-looking
individual with a balding crew cut and a morose expression.

He looked up from his desk as Mike came in, and a hopeful smile tried to
spread itself across his face. "If you are Commander Gabriel," he said
softly, "watch yourself. I may suddenly kiss you out of sheer relief."

"Restrain yourself, then," said Mike the Angel, "because I'm Gabriel."

Nariaki's smile became genuine. "So! Good! The phone has been screaming
at me every half hour for the past five hours. Captain Sir Henry Quill
wants you."

"He would," Mike said. "How do I get to him?"

"You don't just yet," said Nariaki, raising a long, bony, tapering hand.
"There are a few formalities which our guests have to go through."

"Such as?"

"Such as fingerprint and retinal patterns," said Lieutenant Nariaki.

Mike cast his eyes to Heaven in silent appeal, then looked back at the
lieutenant. "Lieutenant, _what_ is going on here? There hasn't been a
security officer in the Space Service for thirty years or more. What am
I suspected of? Spying for the corrupt and evil alien beings of Diomega
Orionis IX?"

Nariaki's oriental face became morose again. "For all I know, you are.
Who knows what's going on around here?" He got up from behind his desk
and led Mike the Angel over to the fingerprinting machine. "Put your
hands in here, Commander ... that's it."

He pushed a button, and, while the machine hummed, he said: "Mine is an
antiquated position, I'll admit. I don't like it any more than you do.
Next thing, they'll put me to work polishing chain-mail armor or make me
commander of a company of musketeers. Or maybe they'll send me to the
18th Outer Mongolian Yak Artillery."

Mike looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Lieutenant, do you actually mean
that you really don't know what's going on here, or are you just
dummying up?"

Nariaki looked at Mike, and for the first time, his face took on the
traditional blank, emotionless look of the "placid Orient." He paused
for long seconds, then said:

"Some of both, Commander. But don't let it worry you. I assure you that
within the next hour you'll know more about Project Brainchild than I've
been able to find out in two years.... Now put your face in here and
keep your eyes open. When you can see the target spot, focus