The girl nodded. "That's him. He saw Snookums. Take care of him." She
looked again at Mike. "I'm terribly sorry, really I am. But there's no
help for it." Then, without another word, she opened the door and went
back inside, and the robot rolled in after her.
As the door closed behind her, the SP man nearest Mike, a tough-looking
bozo wearing an ensign's insignia, said: "Let's see your
identification."
Mike realized that his own parka had no insignia of rank on it, but he
didn't like the SP man's tone.
"Come on!" snapped the ensign. "Who are you?"
Mike the Angel pulled out his ID card and handed it to the security cop.
"It tells right there who I am," he said. "That is, if you can read."
The man glared and jerked the card out of Mike's hand, but when he saw
the emblem that Lieutenant Nariaki had stamped on it, his eyes widened.
He looked up at Mike. "I'm sorry, sir; I didn't mean--"
"That tears it," interrupted Mike. "That absolutely tears it. In the
past three minutes I have been apologized to by a woman, a robot, and a
cop. The next thing, a penguin will walk in here, tip his top hat, and
abase himself while he mutters obsequiously in penguinese. Just what
the devil is going _on_ around this place?"
The four SP men were trying hard not to fidget.
"Just security precautions, sir," said the ensign uncomfortably. "Nobody
but those connected with Project Brainchild are supposed to know about
Snookums. If anyone else finds out, we're supposed to take them into
protective custody."
"I'll bet you're widely loved for that," said Mike. "I suppose the
gadget at Miss What's-her-name's belt was an alarm to warn you of
impending disaster?"
"Miss Crannon.... Yes, sir. Everybody on the project carries those
around. Also, Miss Crannon carries a detector for following Snookums
around. She's sort of his keeper, you know."
"No," said Mike the Angel, "I do not know. But I intend to find out. I'm
looking for Captain Quill; where is he?"
The four men looked at each other, then looked back at Mike.
"I don't know, Commander," said the ensign. "I understand that several
new men have come in today, but I don't know all of them. You'd better
talk to Dr. Fitzhugh."
"Such are the beauties of security," said Mike the Angel. "Where can I
find this Dr. Fitzhugh?"
The security man looked at his wrist watch. "He's down in the cafeteria
now, sir. It's coffee time, and Doc Fitzhugh is as regular as a
satellite orbit."
"I'm glad you didn't say 'clockwork,'" Mike told him. "I've had enough
dealings with machines today. Where is this coffee haven?"
The ensign gave directions for reaching the cafeteria, and Mike pushed
open the door marked _entrance_. He had to pass through another inner
door guarded by another pair of SP men who checked his ID card again,
then he had to ramble through hallways that went off at queer angles to
each other, but he finally found the cafeteria.
He nabbed the first passer-by and asked him to point out Dr. Fitzhugh.
The passer-by was obliging; he indicated a smallish, elderly man who was
sitting by himself at one of the tables.
Mike made his way through the tray-carrying hordes that were milling
about, and finally ended up at the table where the smallish man was
sitting.
"Dr. Fitzhugh?" Mike offered his hand. "I'm Commander Gabriel. Minister
Wallingford appointed me Engineering Officer of the _Branchell_."
Dr. Fitzhugh shook Mike's hand with apparent pleasure. "Oh yes. Sit
down, Commander. What can I do for you?"
Mike had already peeled off his electroparka. He hung it over the back
of a chair and said: "Mind if I grab a cup of coffee, Doctor? I've just
come from topside, and I think the cold has made its way clean to my
bones." He paused. "Would you like another cup?"