Bart stood in the corridor, feeling astounded and strange. He _belonged_ here! He had a right to be on board the ship! He wasn't quite sure what to do next. A Lhari, as short and fat as a Lhari could possibly be and still be a Lhari, came or rather waddled out of the captain's office. He saw Bartol and called, "Are you the new First Class? I'm Rugel, coordinator." Rugel had a huge cleft darkish scar across his lip, and there were two bands on his cloak. He was completely bald, and he puffed when he walked. "Vorongil asked me to show you around. You'll share quarters with Ringg--no sense shifting another man. Come down and see the chart rooms--or do you want to leave your kit in your cabin first?" "I don't have much," Bart said. Rugel's seamed lip widened. "That's the way--travel light when you're on the drift," he confirmed. Rugel took him down to the drive rooms, and here for a moment, in wonder and awe, Bart almost forgot his disguise. The old Lhari led him to the huge computer which filled one wall of the room, and Bart was smitten with the universality of mathematics. Here was something he _knew_ he could handle. He could do this programming, easily enough. But as he stood before the banks of complex, yet beautifully familiar levers, the sheer exquisite complexity of it overcame him. To compute the movements of thousands of stars, all moving at different speeds in different directions in the vast swirling directionless chaos of the Universe--and yet to be sure that every separate movement would come out to within a quarter of a mile! It was something that no finite brain--man or Lhari--could ever accomplish, yet their limited brains had built these computers that _could_ do it. Rugel watched him, laughing softly. "Well, you'll have enough time down here. I like to have youngsters who are still in the middle of a love affair with their work. Come along, and I'll show you your cabin." Rugel left him in a cabin amidships; small and cramped, but tidy, two of the oval bunks slung at opposite ends, a small table between them, and drawers filled with pamphlets and manuals and maps. Furtively, ashamed of himself, yet driven by necessity, Bart searched Ringg's belongings, wanting to get some idea of what possessions he ought to own. He looked around the shower and toilet facilities with extra care--this was something he _couldn't_ slip up on and be considered even halfway normal. He was afraid Ringg would come in, and see him staring curiously at something as ordinary, to a Lhari, as a cake of soap. He decided to go down to the port again and look around the shops. He was not afraid of being unable to handle his work. What he feared was something subtler--that the small items of everyday living, something as simple as a nail file, would betray him.