He was barely in time; some of the ladies were seated but the Captain was still standing. Max realized that he should be near his chair, ready to sit down when the Captain did--or as soon as the ladies were seated, he amended--but where should he go? He was still jittering when he heard his name shouted. "Max!"
Ellie came running up and threw her arms around his neck. "Max! I just heard. I think it's _wonderful!_" She looked at him, her eyes shining, then kissed him on both cheeks.
Max blushed to his ears. He felt as if every eye was turned on him--and he was right. To add to his embarrassment Ellie was dressed in formal evening dress of Hesperan high style, which not only made her look older and much more female, but also shocked his puritanical hillbilly standards.
She let go of him, which was well but left him in danger of collapsing at the knees. She started to babble something, Max did not know what, when Chief Steward Dumont appeared at her elbow. "The Captain is waiting, Miss," he said firmly.
"Bother to the Captain! Oh, well--see you after dinner, Max." She headed for the Captain's table. Dumont touched Max's sleeve and munnured, "This way, sir."
His place was at the foot of the Chief Engineer's table. Max knew Mr. Compagnon by sight but had never spoken to him. The Chief glanced up and said, "Evening, Mr. Jones. Glad to have you with us. Ladies and gentlemen, our new astrogation officer, Mr. Jones. On your right, Mr. Jones, is Mrs. Daigler. Mr. Daigler on her right, then--" and so on, around the table: Dr. and Mrs. Weberbauer and their daughter Rebecca, Mr. and Mrs. Scott, a Mr. Arthur, Senhor and Senhora Vargas.
Mrs. Daigler thought it was _lovely_, his being promoted. And so _nice_ to have more young people at the table. She was much older than Max but young enough to be handsome and aware of it. She wore more jewels than Max had ever seen and her hair was lacquered into a structure a foot high and studded with pearls. She was as perfectly finished and as expensive as a precision machine and she made Max uncomfortable.
But he was not yet as uncomfortable as he could be. Mrs. Daigler produced a wisp of a handkerchief from her bosom, moistened it and said, "Hold still, Mr. Jones." She scrubbed his cheek. "Turn your head." Blushing, Max complied.
"There, that's better," Mrs. Daigler announced. "Mama fixed." She turned away and said, "Don't you think, Mr. Compagnon, that science, with all the wonderful things they do these days, could discover a lip paint that wouldn't come off?"
"Stop it, Maggie," her husband interrupted. "Pay no attention, Mr. Jones. She's got a streak of sadism as wide as she is."
"George, you'll pay for that. Well, Chief?"
The Chief Engineer patted his lips with snowy linen. "I think it must already have been invented, but there was no market. Women like to brand men, even temporarily."
"Oh, bosh!"
"It's a woman's world, ma'am."
She turned to Max. "Eldreth is a dear, isn't she? I suppose you knew her 'dirtside'?--as Mr. Compagnon calls it."
"No, ma'am."
"Then how? I mean, after all, there isn't much opportunity. Or is there?"
"Maggie, stop pestering him. Let the man eat his dinner."
Mrs. Weberbauer on his other side was as easy and motherly as Mrs. Daigler was difficult. Under her soothing presence Max managed to start eating. Then he noticed that the way he grasped a fork was not the way the others did, tried to change, made a mess of it, became aware of his untidy nails, and wanted to crawl under the table. He ate about three hundred calories, mostly bread and butter.
At the end of the meal Mrs. Daigler again gave her attention to him, though she addressed the Chief Engineer. "Mr. Compagnon, isn't it customary to toast a promotion?"
"Yes," the Chief conceded. "But he must pay for it. That's a requirement."
Max found himself signing a chit presented by Dumont. The price made him blink--his first trip might be a professional success, but so far it had been financial disaster. Champagne, iced in a shiny bucket, accompanied the chit and Dumont cut the wires and drew the cork with a flourish.
The Chief Engineer stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen--I give you Astrogator Jones. May he never misplace a decimal point!"
"Cheers !"--"Bravo!"--"Speech, speech!"
Max stumbled to his feet and muttered, "Thank you."
His first watch was at eight o'clock the next morning. He ate breakfast alone and reflected happily that as a watch stander he would usually eat either before or after the passengers. He was in the control room a good twenty minutes early.
Kelly glanced up and said, "Good morning, sir."
Max gulped. "Er--good morning, Chief!" He caught Smythe grinning behind the computer, turned his eyes hastily away.
"Fresh coffee, Mr. Jones. Will you have a cup?" Max let Kelly pour for him; while they drank Kelly quietly went over the details--acceleration schedule, position and vector, power units in use, sights taken, no special orders, etc. Noguchi relieved Smythe, and shortly before the hour Dr. Hendrix appeared.
"Good morning, sir."
"Good morning, Doctor."
"Morning." Hendrix accepted coffee, turned to Max. "Have you relieved the officer of the watch?"
"Uh, why no, sir."
"Then do so. It lacks less than a minute of eight."
Max turned to Kelly and shakily saluted. "I relieve you, sir."
"Very well, sir." Kelly went below at once. Dr. Hendrix sat down, took out a book and started to read. Max realized with a chilly feeling that he had been pushed in, to swim or not. He took a deep breath and went over to Noguchi. "Noggy, let's get the plates ready for the middle o' watch sights."
Noguchi glanced at the chronometer. "As you say, sir."
"Well ... I guess it is early. Let's take a few dopplers."
"Aye aye, sir." Noguchi climbed out of the saddle where he had been loafing.
Max said in a low voice, "Look, Noggy, you don't have to say 'sir' to me."
Noguchi answered just as quietly. "Kelly wouldn't like it if I didn't. Better let it ride."
"Oh." Max frowned. "Noggy? How does the rest of the Worry gang feel about it?"
Noguchi did not pretend not to understand. He answered, "Shucks, they're all rooting for you, if you can swing it."
"You're sure?"
"Certain. Just as long as you don't try to make a big hairy thing out of yourself like--well, like some I could mention." The computerman added, "Maybe Kovak isn't exactly cheering. He's been having a watch of his own, you know--for the first time."
"He's sore?"
"Not exactly. He couldn't expect to keep it long anyhow, not with a transition coming up. He won't go out of his way to give you trouble, he'll be fair."
Max made a mental note to see what he could do to swing Kovak over to his side. The two manned the dopplerscope, took readings on stars forward of vector, checked what they found by spectrostellograph, and compared both with standard plates from the chart safe. At first Max had to remember that he was in charge; then he got so interested in fussy details of measurements that he was no longer self-conscious. At last Noguchi touched his sleeve. "Pushing ten o'clock, sir. I'd better get set up."
"Huh? Sure, go ahead." He reminded himself not to help Noggy; the chartsman has his prerogatives, too. But he checked the set up just as Hendrix always did, as Simes rarely did, and as Kelly sometimes did, depending on who had made it.
After they had gotten the new data Max programmed the problem on paper (there being plenty of time), then called it off to Noguchi at the computer. He thumbed the book himself, there being no "numbers boy" available. The figures were as clear in his recollection as ever, but he obeyed Hendrix's injunction not to depend on memory.
The result worried him. They were not "in the groove." Not that the _Asgard_ was far out, but the discrepancy was measurable. He checked what he had done, then had Noguchi run the problem again, using a different programming method. The result came out the same.