"That's about all there is to tell you. As soon as our rather leisurely E/O gets here, we can jet with Aunt Nelly's postcard." He nodded. "That's the story. Lift ship in...." He glanced at his wrist chronograph, "... in an hour and five." The officers filed out and Cob Whitley stuck his head into the room. "Captain?" "Come in, Cob." Strike's dark brows knit at the sight of the uniformed girl in the doorway. Cob's face was sober, but hidden amusement was kindling behind his eyes. "Captain, may I present Lieutenant Hendricks? Lieutenant _I-vy_ Hendricks?" Strike looked blankly at the girl. "Our new E/O, Captain," prompted Whitley. "Uh ... welcome aboard, Miss Hendricks," was all the Captain could find to say. The girl's eyes were cold and unfriendly. "Thank you, Captain." Her voice was like cracked ice tinkling in a glass. "If I may have your permission to inspect the drives, Captain, I _may_ be able to convince you that the designer of this vessel was not ... as you seem to think ... a senile incompetent." Strike was perplexed, and he showed it. "Why, certainly ... uh ... Miss ... but why should you be so...." The girl's voice was even colder than before as she said, "Harlan Hendricks, Captain, is my father." * * * * * A week in space had convinced Strike that he commanded a jinx ship. Jetting sunward from Venus, the cantankerous _Aphrodite_ had burned a steering tube through, and it had been necessary to go into free-fall while Jenkins, the Assistant E/O, and a damage control party effected repairs. When the power was again applied, Old Aphrodisiac was running ten hours behind schedule, and Strike and Evans, the Astrogation Officer, were sweating out the unforeseen changes introduced into the orbital calculations by the time spent in free-fall. The _Aphrodite_ rumbled on toward the orbit of Mercury.... For all the tension between the occupants of the flying-bridge, Strike and Ivy Hendricks worked well together. And after a second week in space, a reluctant admiration was replacing the resentment between them. Ivy spent whatever time she could spare tinkering with her father's pet surge-circuit and Strike began to realize that there was little she did not know about spaceship engineering. Then, too, Ivy spent a lot of time at the controls, and Strike was forced to admit that he had never seen a finer job of piloting done by man or woman. And finally, Ivy hated old Brass-bottom Gorman even more than Strike did. She felt that Gorman had ruined her father's career, and she was dedicating her life to proving her father right and Brass-bottom wrong. There's nothing in the cosmos to nurture friendship like a common enemy.