Boxmaster 
by
Jacqueline Lichtenberg

Lyle Odirin set a brisk pace down the long corridors that traversed the Guild Headquarters building, aware that Yran had to take two steps to his one yet unable to restrain his nervous energy. But the youngster kept up an eager, unstrained chatter with no sense of breathlessness. After a bit, the voice ceased to register until Yran pulled up beside him at the elevator and said, "Master Odirin, I know you'd have preferred to take no apprentice until you'd tracked down the pirates, but - "

He rounded on the Kethsem, dimly aware that the elevator doors had opened to his priority call. "What makes you think that?" he demanded.

"Deduction. When I was posted to apprentice, I looked up all the Boxmasters I might be assigned to - the news of your loss came while I was researching, and so - "

"You read up on me in the Guild files?" Maybe he was prejudiced. Just because their home planet didn't have data systems technology didn't mean all Kethsemni were illiterate. After all, using a system wasn't the same as programming it. "I commend you on your thoroughness." He entered the elevator.

"Thank you, Boxmaster," Yran replied in a subdued tone and scrambled in after Odirin.

The Boxmaster sent the car to the front of the building, intent only on getting back to his ship and off planet before anything else was loaded onto him.

As the car changed directions, he glanced at the youngster. Yran showed no dismay at the acceleration. Aborigine doesn't mean primitive - it means native. His species evolved on that planet, and this is their first rise to interstellar civilization. Besides, the kid had qualified as a Guild apprentice. Odirin made a mental note not to underestimate the Kethsem.

His people had resisted the lure of the galaxy, with only the hardiest adventurers leaving their home planet despite abundant scholarships and opportunities. The only one who had ever made an impression on Lyle was an erotic dancer at one of his favorite nightclubs, a muscular male human women found irresistible. Or at least Odirin had assumed he was male.

The car doors opened on the vaulted rotunda, and a wild babble of voices poured through the crack between the doors. Then they were facing a wall of reporters. Recorders bobbed over their heads or rode less conspicuously on their persons. Breathing devices hissed, voice simulators squealed and growled, translators jammed so close together chittered insanely with feedback, and above it all a human woman's voice rose, "Boxmaster Odirin, what do you think of the chances of capturing the pirates who destroyed your Box?"

A Laforn, a rotund grayish blob with bright green eyes and festoons of skin hanging almost to the floor, aimed a pickup probe at Yran and challenged, "Have you noticed any prejudice against Kethsem in the Guild yet?"

A Samgji male, a tall, hulking giant humanoid with brightly polished skin, rumbled "Step back and let them out!"

Odirin fumbled at the door close. "Yran, get back!"

The Laforn had edged his bulk into the safety sensor of the door, keeping it from closing as he continued to fire questions at them. Odirin hit the override, shouting at the Laforn, "Stand clear!"

The door alarm whimpered. The doors twitched.

Instead of retreating into the car, Yran went down on all fours, and reached under the Laforn where the folds of tegument hung just above the floor. Without warning, the Laforn recoiled into the crowd, knocking people down.

The doors fluttered shut and the car swooped away at top speed. Heaving a tremulous sigh, Odirin watched his apprentice pick himself up from the floor and clutch at the railing for support as the car changed directions. When their eyes finally met, Odirin lowered his voice and asked, "Did I or did I not give you an order, Apprentice?"

"Order, Master Odirin?" The feathery growth atop Yran's head moved and seemed to shift color as the scales caught the light differently. "I thought it was a suggestion."

"Suggestion." He studied the youth, noting the smooth skin, the wide, innocent seeming eyes, protected now by optical-shift generators implanted under his brow ridges and projecting smokey dark fields in front of his eyes. Maybe in a Kethsem, wide eyes and innocence didn't go together. He made a mental note to look up how to read Kethsem emotions.

"Yes, Master Odirin. And I had a better idea. If I hadn't made him move, the Laforn would be in the car with us now, and so would his recorder. I thought that's what you wanted to avoid, since publicity won't help in our search for the pirates."

"If you expect to cut shard with me, you will learn the difference between an order and a suggestion, and you will follow orders. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely."

Every wisp of the glistening feathery stuff was plastered to the top of the Kethsem's head now. Lyle wished he knew what that meant. He also wished he knew what Yran had done to the Laforn. He hoped it wasn't actionable, because under the law, Odirin himself would be responsible.

The elevator deposited them at the rear of the huge building, near the kitchens' receiving docks, and Odirin led the way among the trash cyclers and out a narrow service alley onto a broad thoroughfare where they flagged an autocar and told it to take them to the spaceport.

Safe in the privacy of the taxi, Yran began to babble again. Lyle tuned it out until he heard the word pirate again. "Repeat that!"

"I said avoiding publicity of our moves is necessary because the pirates must have allies inside law enforcement as well as industry. After all, their organization must span the civilized galaxy since they've hit at least one key industrial site in almost every sector. And since the standard apprentice training begins with a check-tour of the Boxmaster's emplaced Boxes, and you still have nine in the field, we can easily travel in search of leads."

"Kid - "

"My name's Yran, Boxmaster."

Lyle ignored the interruption. "Kid, I appreciate your loyalty and concern for my affairs - "

"They're mine now, too."

"Our opinions on that may differ. But one thing we must agree on if we're going to work together . . . . "

"I want us to work together!"

Odirin pressed his lips tight and tried not to sound like he was talking to an overeager child who'd somehow gotten the idea he was the equal of his elders. "Yran, we're not going to go after the pirates. We're not law enforcement. Our Boxes collect observed data for others to use. That's all. Got that?"

"I understand. The Guildmaster's orders must prevail."

Yran's head growth was waving freely again. Odirin sighed and appreciated the silence all the way to his ship. As always when placed in authority over someone, he felt awkward and irritated. If he could keep from taking it out on the kid, this might not be so bad after all.

Pylant was berthed amid the array of cradles maintained for Guild ships on Alexis. Though capable of landing on rough terrain, Boxmasters' ships occasionally needed specialized maintenance available only in the Guild docks. The moment Pylant had grounded, Guild crews had swarmed over her dismantling and reassembling almost everything.

But now they were pulling away, closing up all the access plates and detaching the service lines. Absently signing for the work, Lyle watched his apprentice gaping at the ship and felt a renewed pride. He remembered his first sight of her, the day they'd turned her over to him. She'd been new then, sparkling, creaking, reeking new, and all his. He could see the kid dreaming that same dream.

Finally, the foreman took back his entrypad and checked its display. "That's it. We've done all we can to make the three of you comfortable in such a small ship. See you next time." And he was gone, riding the last of the wagons away.

Three?! He looked at the Kethsem. He looked at the ship. Adrun! Adrun Rudy!! he thought, as if the Guildmaster's name were a curse of great power. Then he charged up the ramp, through the day room and toward his office. He hadn't even reached his control desk when a voice sang out, "Boxmaster! Boxmaster Odirin."

Lyle turned in the narrow hall that ran the length of the ship to see a large, rugged human coming toward him. The man was young, conspicuously muscled, blond and very darkly tanned. He wore his hair short, and his dark green pants and light green shirt fit like a uniform.

"Maikson, Sir. Arik Maikson," he announced in a

pleasant tenor, hand extended. "As I suppose you've been advised. I hope we'll - "

"No, I haven't been advised. Tell me."

"But - oh." He took a deep breath putting his hand away. "Guildmaster Rudy assured me you'd be fully briefed. Because of all the publicity from the trial and from your apprentice you've been assigned a guard. It should have been evident from the bills-of-lading you signed that - "

Lyle hadn't really read what he'd signed or he might have refused. "Rudy thinks I need a guard?" To keep me from going after the pirates alone, or with a green apprentice in tow?

Just then a screeching alarm went off somewhere to the rear of the ship, a strange sounding alarm. Arik spun and raced back along the hall, Lyle right on his heels.

In the day room, a large open space at the prow, they found Yran confronting a humanoid robot crouched in a defensive stance. Yran's head feathering bottled and his eyes narrowed while he apologized to Odirin. "I'm sorry! They didn't tell me Guild ships carried security robots."

"They don't," said Odirin.

Yran looked at him, the huge, dark eyeshields, short nose and large forehead giving him a baby-innocent look, terrified-innocent. Obviously, the apprenticeship meant a lot to him, and he knew he'd made a bad first impression.

Arik strode to the robot and made three precise adjustments to the controls set into its ribs. Then he rounded on the apprentice. "Who gave you permission to try to turn him off?"

Yran countered, "Who are you?"

Lyle stepped forward, inserting himself between Arik and the robot. "He is the guard the Guildmaster has assigned to us," he said to Yran while his eyes held the Guard's, "and this machine must be his assistant. He will not, however, be reprimanding my apprentice. Will he?"

The guard swallowed his temper. "Of course not. The robot's name is Sam, and he responds to all the usual standard commands. He's programmed for Security functions, but also has all the courtesy programs which he will be running while aboard ship. Sam, these are the two we are guarding, Boxmaster Lyle Odirin and his new apprentice, Yran. You'll show them deference."

"My apologies, Boxmaster Odirin, Apprentice Yran. Apparently, I overreacted. It won't happen again."

The robot's voice was a smooth bass rumble that matched his square chin. The skin covering him was a nondescript human color, and his features were human racial mix. Common brown hair flowed in perfect waves across his head. He was an advanced model emitting no detectable machinery hum, and his movements were smooth. He wore the same cut of pants and shirt that Arik did, but his were black. Only the control display panels in the backs of his hands marked him as a robot, though Odirin knew that beneath his clothes, the robot sported other sorts of controls.

"Sam," said Odirin thoughtfully, "I intend to see to it that it doesn't happen again. Excuse me."

He pushed past the crowd in his day room and headed for his office and the control desk from which he normally operated the entire ship - alone. But Maikson followed him. "I've already taken the liberty of requesting departure clearance. We've checked everything maintenance brought aboard. There are no bugs, no disruptive devices, no sabotage, no security leaks. The ship is clean and spaceworthy. I can pilot, if you'd care to rest."

In the hatch to the office, Lyle turned and blocked the guard's way as he took a firm grip on his temper. He felt soiled, violated by these intrusions into his domain, but he said quietly, "This is my ship. I pilot."

"I understood that you've just been released from the hospital, and . . . . "

" . . . and I'm fine, or I wouldn't have been released. Excuse me." He turned and closed the hatch in his face.

Odirin stood in the middle of the familiar room, fists clenched at his side and marveled that he hadn't been even more rude. The situation really didn't warrant outrage, but that's what he felt.

He paced, he breathed deeply, he muttered curses to himself, but it didn't help much. When the Portmaster called with a time check for the takeoff slot he'd reserved, he informed the woman in very cold tones that he had not requested any slot, and that from now on, the port would accept Pylant instructions only from Lyle Odirin. He disconnected.

Aware his temper had erupted out of control, he reviewed everything since Rudy had decreed he must take an apprentice. He had ample reason for disappointment, frustration, even a sense of betrayal, but not anger, not rage. He certainly had no right to take it out on Maikson, Yran - or the port clerk. It wasn't their fault and it wasn't like him to abuse an innocent clerk.

He called the Portmaster back and apologized, assuring her that he'd be content to wait his turn for a slot once he made up his mind when he'd be leaving.

Feeling a bit better, he got Adrun Rudy on the screen. Without preamble, the Guildmaster said, "Ah, Lyle! I'm sorry I neglected to mention the guard. You have every right to be angry with me for the oversight. It is your ship."

"Is it?"

"Of course."

"In that case, I want them off. Now."

"Lyle?"

"Don't 'Lyle' me, Adrun. I told you I'm no good in company. I've got nine boxes spread over six sectors, a circuit that could take a year to complete if nothing goes wrong. This is a one-man ship, and I've got to cram an apprentice into it - "

"It's designed to accommodate six people when necessary. There shouldn't be any problem since I had it refitted - "

"Refitted without my permission or direction!"

"Lyle, I apologized for the rude surprise, but we got involved in discussing your apprentice and I overlooked it. You've every reason to be upset, but think. You've just given the clinching testimony in a widely publicized court case. If there is only one pirate organization spread across the Union of Stars, then that huge organization could easily be looking for you - to silence you."

"What damage I can do has already been done."

"But if they kill you, it will be a warning to others. History has proven that to be a very effective kind of warning. You can see that, can't you?"

"I can see it."

"And they'll know where to find you. I've just gotten a private report that Globular Underwriters has filed the expected 'show proof' demand against the TivTav Mine on Myskord. You can expect TivTav to call for you to debrief your Number One any time now, and given that eight colony planets are depending on TivTav for power, the reporters will be announcing your arrival, so once you've set an arrival time, don't be late. You do understand the ramifications, don't you?"

"Face it, Adrun. He is different from other apprentices. He just tried to turn off the security robot."

"Had you told him not to?"

"No. I didn't even know it was aboard until it let out a howl."

"Well, you can't blame him for being Kethsemni. They're not human, you know."

"I've noticed! But even a child has better sense! I don't think the Guild should be banking on this apprentice. He just doesn't have the maturity."

"He's not all that young, and he learns fast. Don't read Kethsemni cultural traits as if they were human ones. Give him a fair chance, that's all I ask."

"You won't take him back?"

"Are you failing him already?"

"I'd like to. He might make a fine port mechanic, but he just doesn't seem to be Boxmaster material. Adrun, the security robot!"

"Did you ask him why he did it?"

"Not yet. I was too mad. And I can already see that guard isn't going to get along with the kid."

"He's no kid. And he's amiable enough to get along with anyone. He really wants to make it in the Guild. Explain things to him carefully. Give him a chance."

Lyle remembered the look on the youngster's face when he saw the ship for the first time. Against his better judgement, he conceded, "All right, I'll give him a chance."

"Good. Then I'll see you when you return."

The screen blanked before Lyle could protest again about the guard. But how would it look if he threw the guard off the ship and then something happened the guard could have prevented? He didn't want to spend the rest of his life placing boxes in nursing homes and garbage scows.

He tapped into the port system, picked out an empty takeoff slot, and went for it, giving his passengers only a three minute warning over the com. He didn't apologize for that show of temper, but it shamed him. He promised himself he wouldn't do it again.

#

Odirin spent the next few days in his office. Before Pylant was out of range of Alexis, he requisitioned a copy of his recording off the court's display stage. He set Pylant to work sifting for the face of the pirate with the detector, knowing law enforcement agencies would be searching, and were better equipped than he.

Then he read up on Kethsem and Yran's Academy record, as well as reviewing the Guild manual for the training of an apprentice and making up a schedule for Yran.

The Guild briefing on Kethsem was written for Boxmasters assigned to place boxes there, not for those trying to understand and train a Kethsem apprentice. He learned a lot about Kethsem's technology and politics, but not how to distinguish gender or judge character.

From Yran's file, he learned that the apprentice was indeed no youth. On Kethsem, he'd been married with children, and had lived for years in the Treaty Enclave, where he'd had his eye shields implanted. They weren't Guild standard like Odirin's implants. But of course, they wouldn't be. Yran was the first nonhuman in the Guild.

He'd also been among the first of the natives to take up family residence in the enclave. Then his family had been killed by an accidental explosion that destroyed their home.

According to the xenologists, Kethsem aborigines rarely left their planet because their social structure of tightly woven, cross-linked, intimate groups didn't allow for singletons. Independence was a lifestyle foreign to their culture, and possibly, the texts hinted, to their biology. Even a nuclear family wouldn't be inclined to cut all ties and forge out into the galaxy to pioneer. A few had, but those were scorned and ostracized by their society.

Yran listed no surviving relatives. Alone in the world of networked groups, Yran had opted for offworld service. He was neither young nor new to working with humans. And his Academy record was exemplary. Maybe his behavior stemmed from nervousness? If so, he'd steady down soon.

On the evening of the second day out of Alexis, Odirin was about to join the others in the day room when the expected call from Myskord came through, a peremptory demand for his presence at the TivTav mine. He spent the rest of that evening and most of the next day refining his schedule for Yran's training. There were certain things that had to be accomplished before they arrived at Myskord if he was going to take his apprentice down into the mine. On the other hand, he couldn't delay answering that summons. He struck the best balance he could and sent TivTav word of his arrival date.

With its usual efficiency, the Guild had stocked Pylant with all the equipment Yran would need to learn the boxmaster's craft. And since a lot of what Yran would now be learning was under Guild Security, they had provided clearance for Arik Maikson and his robot.

Still, the man wasn't a Boxmaster, nor even a failed apprentice. Odirin found Maikson and Yran in the day room where they were eating a meal and arguing about the ship's destination. They both turned to him, falling silent. Yran rose respectfully.

Lyle waved him back to his chair. "Finish eating. We have some work to do today."

The youngster sat, picking up his spoon. He was eating something nondescript out of a bowl. It steamed a nutty aroma into the air. Maikson had a steak with vegetable stew. He shoved the plate aside and held Odirin's gaze. "Where are we going?"

"I've told you, you'll find out when we get there."

"Odirin, your Guildmaster will be unhappy about your lack of cooperation."

"I didn't come here to discuss the ship's course." He couldn't believe Maikson didn't know already. Surely he followed the news. He said to Yran, "I came to tell you to report to the workshop for your first lesson." He turned to Maikson. "And to warn you that the workshop is now off limits to both you and the robot."

"That's not possible. I'm responsible for securing - "

" - everything but the workshop. I'll take personal responsibility for that."

"You're not trained in security. As soon as we land - "

"I've kept my shop secure all these years and I'll - "

"How do you know? How do you know whoever took out your Number Three box didn't get into your shop?"

It was a stunning thought.

Maikson rubbed it in. "They knew exactly where it was stationed. That's a security leak."

"Not on my ship." He never recorded the locations of his boxes, so there was nothing to steal from his workshop. "The pirate captain had - "

"Had what?" prompted Maikson.

But Lyle couldn't say that the pirate had some sort of homing device tuned to his box. There was no such thing. He must have been carrying a notepad set to scroll written directions.

Memory of the shard's final effort to give him the record from Wings of Man resurfaced, the impression of a directional detector stronger than ever. Lyle brushed it aside. "I'm giving you fair warning, on the record, stay out of that shop from now on. When we start working shard, it could mean your life. And keep the robot out of there, too. One ignorant mistake on its part could mean our lives."

"We have clearance - "

"Not from me, you don't."

"The Guild cleared me to - "

"- work on this ship, not in my shop. You're not here to learn to handle shard. You're here to protect us."

At that point, the robot came up to the table offering refills for their hot drinks. "Not now, Sam," said Maikson.

"And while we're in space, I don't want to see that robot wandering around loose." He rose and gathered his apprentice with a gesture. "Come on, Yran. We've got work to do." He led Yran away before his grip on his temper slipped again. What was it about Maikson that got to him like that?

Pylant was built for atmospheric re-entry and for easy habitation on the ground, so she was long, slender and tapered, with three decks that ran the length of the ship, stopping short of the drive room at the rear. Gravity held on all the living decks, but not in the drive room. The upper deck, Deck One, was an open area as long as the ship, housing the Boxmaster's workshop.

"Have you been up to the shop, yet?" asked Lyle as he led Yran up the spiral stair in the corner of the day room.

"I climbed up to look, but I didn't go in." The Kethsem's fuzz was plastered to his head, indicating fear or maybe just apprehension.

"Yran, you don't have to be afraid of me. You belong here. They don't."

"Why is it necessary to be hostile toward them?" It wasn't a complaint, but a straight request for information.

Lyle asked, "Was I being hostile?"

"It seemed to me."

Shit. Nothing in the literature suggested Kethsemni were empaths or sensitives. Lyle stopped at the top of the stair and leaned against the rail as Yran came up beside him. "I've had a very long run without losing a box."

"I know. It's a record. Almost everyone loses a box within the first two years after cutting shard. You had seven years carrying ten boxes. It's an honor to train with you."

"It wasn't entirely luck. A Boxmaster has to enjoy and even prefer solitude for long stretches."

"I know. That's why nobody thought a Kethsem could make Apprentice."

"I've read your record. You're not as young as you - "

"I'm not young at all." He turned shielded eyes on Lyle and the head fuzz floated, relaxed.

" - as you act. Yran, when you interrupt me you give the impression of being either very rude or extremely childish."

"Oh." Light rippled on the scaled fuzz as worried astonishment transformed the Kethsem's roundish face reducing his apparent age by a decade. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give a false impression. It's just that most humans I've known converse in half sentences and interrupted thoughts. Like you kept interrupting Arik."

Arik? Not Maikson? "That's different - " He broke off, sighed, and refused to let his temper start to rise again. "I've survived seven years without losing a box because I do things my own way, and that way doesn't include guards, robots and apprentices."

The telltale fuzz plastered down flat on Yran's head.

"Yran, I've nothing personal against you. I'm annoyed at Adrun Rudy, but only a little. It is Guild policy to train an apprentice after losing a box. In fact, it's an honor to be given the first Kethsem apprentice to train."

For once Yran was silent.

"And I've nothing personal against Maikson, either. He's just doing his job. It's his job itself I object to. His presence aboard distracts my attention, and that could endanger me and my remaining boxes." He cocked an eye at Yran. "Not to mention, my apprentice."

"So your objective is to minimize that distraction?"

"Right!" Now they were communicating.

"It is less distracting for you to be hostile rather than friendly."

"No!" And I thought I had it! "He knows I'm not hostile toward him. Why don't you ask him about it?"

In a very small voice, Yran said, "He asked me why you were so hostile - and that was before you told him to stay out of the workshop."

"Why did he think I was hostile?"

"Because you wouldn't come eat with us, and you wouldn't tell us where we're going. He says he can't do his job if he doesn't know what kind of conditions to prepare for and how long it will be until he has to face those conditions."

"Hmmmm. I'll talk to him about that, then. As to where we're going - we're going to check my Number One. That's all you need to know now. It's important that the rest come as a surprise to you."

"Oh, no!"

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I guessed we'd check your One first, so when Sam showed me the onboard systems, naturally I looked up everything on file about your One. It's been in six emplacements in seven years, and is currently on Myskord in a deep crustal mine which is prone to quakes. It's there to collect engineering data to anticipate cave-ins."

Lyle felt his face pale as his heart seemed to stop. "Sam showed you the onboard systems? Sam knows all this?"

"No! He showed me what a wonderful data system the ship carries. We climbed all over Deck Three storage and through the system housing, and he explained how he's constructed to mesh into thousands of different systems. I learned a lot that's not in Guild courses! But I tapped the system myself. I thought it was all right. It already had my I.D. on file."

"Your I.D.?" Adrun Rudy was the only one who could have tampered with Pylant's system. "And Sam's I.D.?"

"I don't know. But I don't think he'd have any trouble getting into anything that ticks. Boxmaster, he wouldn't have let me into the system if it didn't already have my I.D. He's a robot. He couldn't violate his programming."

"That machine has got to go!"

"Why? He's harmless."

"Yran, he's programmed for combat. He's programmed to courtesy. Apparently, he's also programmed to pass as a butlerbot. Now I find he's also a datasnitch."

"But he's secure! You can't get anything out of him."

"Listen, Yran. You're new to the galactic situation. Take my word for this until you can check it out for yourself. Any machine programmed by combat trained persons is dangerous. The more it has besides combat, the more dangerous it is."

"But it can't kill flesh creatures."

"Not on purpose. But there's just no predicting how it will reason things out."

"Sure there is. It's only a program."

"I'm not here to argue with you. I'm here to teach you what I know that will give you a chance to survive cutting shard - and placing boxes. Now, I'm going to give you your first job, then I'm going to talk to Maikson and see that robot deactivated and stashed in a closet."

He led the Kethsem to the rear of the shop where his monitoring bench was set up. On a rack at eye level for Odirin, were nine monitors, each containing a chip from the shard in the box it corresponded to. Odirin had worked here while Pylant chased the jettisoned Number Three shard nearly into the black hole. He had tried to lock on and retrieve it - and failed. And here he'd received that last debriefing, unaware of what his subconscious had received until he'd put it on the display stage in Court.

The horror, the devastation of that loss, like an aching hole in a tooth, a hole bored all the way into his brain, returned. He let it show on his face, let his apprentice see what it was like, knowing that if the Kethsem could be deterred, this was a good time to quit. And anyone who could quit, should.

He stared bleakly at his bench. The third monitor was missing, of course, and the others had been arranged so the gap wasn't obvious, except to Odirin's direct perception of the nonaudible hum of shard, the music only he could hear. The monitor screens under each station were dark. They wouldn't register until they were very close to the corresponding Box. But the rest of the system was alive and waiting.

The refitters based on Alexis had provided step stools for Yran all over the ship, which was fitted to accommodate Lyle's proportions. Odirin motioned his apprentice up onto a tall stool with a high seat attached. "Pull up Pylant's inventory ledger."

Without hesitation, Yran logged in his I.D., touched the scanner plate, and the screens presented him with a wealth of confidential information about Pylant's current condition.

Yran looked up at him seeking approval. "All right," said Odirin. "Now, I want you to go over that inventory until you know it by heart, and then locate each item on it physically. Do it over and over until you can do it in the dark, or in vacuum, or with fire raging on all sides. When you're sure that absolutely nothing can keep you from finding anything I tell you to find, then come to me for testing."

Solemnly, Yran said, "This could take all day."

"Or as many days as it takes. Be as thorough as you know how to be. Consider it a test."

"I understand."

Certain that the Kethsem didn't understand at all, Lyle said, "This isn't busy work, Yran. It's vital. Our lives could depend on it. Now, I'm going to see about that robot."

He found Maikson in the gym, which had been installed in the unused fourth bedroom, the one next to Lyle's own. Even here, changes had been made to accommodate the Kethsem. Two new stretching and lifting devices had been installed in the far corner, and a new aerobic tester was set up beside the screen used to chart fitness.

Pylant's system required data from that screen to program their meals, so everyone aboard had to check into the gym every day.

Odirin climbed onto a field floor and set the controls for treadmill. As the fields solidified under his feet and began to move, he promised himself he'd get through this without a single caustic comment or acid tone. Trotting along, he said to Maikson, who was hanging upside down doing pull-ups, "Yran says you think I've been hostile toward you. I just wanted you to know it's nothing personal."

"Didn't take it personally," grunted Maikson between lifts of his torso to touch his forehead to his knees. "But I figured we'd be able to work together better than this."

"Might be arranged," puffed Lyle, watching the monitor racking up a spectacular score for Maikson. "I want that robot deactivated and stored while we're in space. I want your word you'll stay out of my workshop. Then things will go more smoothly around here."

"I want to know where we're going and when we're going to get there - and anything useful you know about the place. Then, if I don't need Sam to work out how to protect you two on planet, I'll put him to bed. Deal?"

"No. I want that robot packed away. And I want your word you - and the robot - will stay out of my shop, on or off planet. For that, I'll give you everything I've got on our destination except the location of my box there."

"I have to check out the workshop before each takeoff. If I'm riding in this ship, I don't want it to blow apart under me. I wont leave a single rivet unchecked."

Lyle thought about that. He needed a solid working relationship with the guard. The ship was too small for feuding. "Okay, you can check out the shop before takeoff, but only - and I mean only - under my supervision. There are or will be things in there you must not touch. Then you put the robot to bed for the duration of the trip."

"Depending on the nature of our next destination," Maikson stipulated. "I know the locations of all nine of your boxes, and four of them are in vacuum. I'm going to need Sam for some of them. That's why I brought him. And I have to go with you and Yran when you check out your boxes."

"I'm the only one who knows the placement of my boxes."

"You and the pirates. I'm going."

Odirin was silent, thinking about the Boxmasters who'd lost all their boxes within a few months. Maikson reversed to hang by his hands, chinning himself. The score showing on his monitor jumped a category and began racing to keep up with him as he chinned and spoke at the same time. "Look, Boxmaster, you're about to reveal the placements of your boxes to an apprentice who isn't even - "

"Don't you dare say he isn't even human!"

"No! Who isn't even sworn to the Guild. No Boxmaster has ever betrayed that oath after cutting shard. But before that, there's no telling - "

"I trust Yran farther than I trust you. And you've got all the clearances a man can carry."

"I've also got a job to do. I'm willing to be reasonable so long as you let me do my job. I'll put Sam to bed when I don't need him. I'll stay out of your shop when I don't have to be there. What more do you want?"

I want you off my ship. But he didn't say that. "I want you to keep away from my apprentice. Don't ask him about me or my attitudes. Don't tell him anything I tell you. Don't make a habit of having meals with him. Don't joke with him or tell him stories about life in the galaxy. Don't make friends with him."

"That sounds somewhat unreasonable to me. There isn't a whole lot of choice for company on this ship."

"Your job is to help us survive until his apprenticeship is over and we're not newsworthy anymore. Right?"

"Right."

"But what good is that if he turns into an incompetent Boxmaster who gets himself killed on his first solo?"

With his chin just clear of the bar, Maikson stopped and held position. "Not a lot," he allowed. "But how could a few social exchanges do that?"

"That's none of your business. He's my apprentice to train as I see fit, and I say your mere existence on this ship endangers his life and all his future boxes. The less you speak to him, the better his chances of surviving his training - and his work."

"With your record, I have to take your word on that." He let himself down, reversed and resumed doing torso lifts. "Okay, I'll put Sam to bed when I don't need him, I'll stay out of your shop except under your supervision, and I'll stay away from your apprentice - all in exchange for the fullest possible briefing on our destination and the conditions we'll face there when we check your box."

Eyeing the man's score, Odirin panted, "Deal. The first thing you'll need to know is that within the next three days, I'm holding a full scale disaster drill. Yran won't know when, and he won't be told it's a drill. As far as he'll know at first, it'll be an attack by the pirates. Can you handle that, or do you have to know exactly when it will be?"

"I'll have to have a way to know it's just a drill, or I might over-react."

Exactly what I'm afraid of. "You'll know it's a drill because the Wenshiss drive will sputter four times before it quits. After that, everything's a surprise."

"Fair enough."

Breathless, legs aching, Odirin hit the controls of the field floor and turned it into a trampoline. Jumping and tumbling, he said, "And during that drill, that robot must be turned off - completely. Not on standby, but off. I don't want any risks to my apprentice, especially if he makes a mistake."

"Are you going to launch the lifepods?"

There was one lifepod attached to each of the sleeping compartments, and a pair of smaller ones accessible from the day room, the shop or the storage deck. "No, we won't go that far this time." Lyle departed smiling. He hadn't lost his temper once. This was more like himself.

End Chapter Two