As I looked around, I could not see a single other spot he could have settled himself without getting in the way of at least one of us. Yet he had put himself in that special location before we entered the room.

Deep in the creature’s neck, one of his glowing eyes vanished for a moment — a Pollisandish wink. It was almost as if he were acknowledging the thought which had silently gone through my head… but I did not want to believe that, so I put it out of my mind.

Meanwhile, the Pollisand’s words had drawn Festina’s attention. She whirled on him, shouting, "What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"I want answers to my questions," he said, "but do I get them? Not bloody likely. Nobody ever has time to talk: it’s always Crisis this and Emergency that, with everyone far too busy for civilized discourse. Bet it would be different if I had a goddamned head — but no, you’re all so superior, constantly wearing hats and flaunting your peripheral vision, never mind how it eats me up inside, condemned forever to be cranially disadvantaged…"

He lifted his large foot and pointed toward the woman in brown, whose hands were now covered in foam that bubbled from her own skin. "Speaking of being eaten up inside," the Pollisand said, "this woman has thirty grams of Modig ripping her apart. You might want to deal with that before she dies of shock."

"Damn!" Festina said. Raising her voice, she called, "Ship-soul, attend. Tell Dr. Havel we have a severe case of Modig poisoning in the main computer room."

"Aye-aye, Admiral," a metallic voice answered from the ceiling.

"Hurray," Aarhus muttered, "the computer is still on-line."

"Don’t celebrate too soon," the Pollisand told him.

The sergeant winced. "Why?"

"You’ll see in seventy-two seconds."

"God damn it," Festina said, "quit being a know-it-all, and tell us something useful. What did this woman do, and how can we stop it?"

"You can’t stop it," the Pollisand replied. "And what this woman did — by the way, her name is Zuni, if you care, which you don’t, or you wouldn’t need a complete stranger to introduce you to someone who’s been under your command since the day you inherited this ship — but no, let’s not waste time on civilities which are only the bedrock of society, what this woman, Zuni, that’s still her name, even if you don’t care about it, did…" The Pollisand took a breath. "What Zuni did was write a program she believed would let her override the captain’s commands."

"Which explains why she put the system in master mode," Aarhus said. "If her program worked, she could set our course straight back to New Earth… and prevent anyone from changing it."

"But the program didn’t work," the Pollisand told him. "Zuni didn’t test it first: she just wrote it and ran it. Which clearly shows that possessing a head isn’t the same as using it. (Not that I’m bitter.) What kind of programmer is so divorced from reality she thinks she’ll get complex software right the first time? Especially when she’s hacking the ship’s most important security settings."

"Look," Festina interrupted, "we’ll discuss Zuni another time. Just tell us what the program did."

"It went out of control," the Pollisand said. "Romped off on its own, overwriting basic system code. She tried to rein it in from the console, but it had already stomped part of its own control settings; that’s when she popped open a tube of Modig powder."

"Why was she carrying a vile red poison?" I asked. "Was she a secret assassin?"

"No," Festina answered, "it’s navy policy to have some Modig available precisely for situations where you’ve got a runaway computer and can’t shut it down."

"It is better to turn off the power switch," I told her, "or to adjust the machine’s mechanisms with an ax."

"Zuni didn’t have an ax," the Pollisand said, "and the way to turn off a power switch on this ship is to ask the computer to do it — which doesn’t work if the computer is already fucked up the snout. Anyway, Modig is standard issue for last-ditch emergencies, and Zuni had been immunized against tiny exposures… but she should have known better than to scoop it up with her hands and smear it into the circuits. No immunization can protect a human from that much contact. Why would my poor Zuni do such a thing?"

"We’ll ask her at the court-martial," Festina said. "Right now we have to figure out what’s beendamaged, what the runaway program did…"

The Pollisand’s eyes flared brightly. "I can tell you that. It overrode the safeguards on Captain’s Last Act."

"Oh shit!" Festina and Aarhus said in unison.

"What is Captain’s Last Act?" I asked.

Festina’s face looked pained. "If a crew is forced to abandon ship, it’s the final command a captain gives… to make it impossible for outsiders to learn military secrets if they capture our equipment. Captain’s Last Act means—"

The room lights suddenly went out.

"Doing some drastic Science thing that breaks all the ship’s machines?" I asked.

"Good guess," Festina said.

Shutdown

The room had not been noisy — the computers operated with quiet hums rather than ventilatory hiss. But when the lights went out, the sound level dropped to complete silence, as soft whirs and purrs faded to nothingness. The gentle breeze caused by the ship’s air circulation system grew still. A moment later, within the cores of all the machines, trickles of fluid began to drip, drip, drip, as if the circuits were bleeding.

"Look on the bright side," Aarhus said in the blackness. "At one time, the Admiralty wanted Captain’s Last Act to cause a total self-destruct. Fortunately, the League wouldn’t let navy ships sail around with their bellies full of explosive."

"So," Festina said, "instead of blowing ourselves up, we get to freeze in the dark. Goody."

A light clicked on from the direction of her voice. My friend held a thin wand that gave off a bright silver shine; the beam reflected off my hands, so that when I moved my arms, little patches of silver flashed across the floors and ceiling.

"I see you came prepared, Admiral," Aarhus said.

"In rank, I’m an admiral," Festina told him, "but at heart, I’m an Explorer. I don’t go anywhere without a chemically powered light, a first-aid kit, and twenty meters of rope."

"Same things I carry on a first date." Aarhus dropped his gaze to the floor and asked, "Why do we still have gravity? The Higgs generators are surely off-line."

"They’re more than off-line," Festina said. "The whole grav system is now a steaming pile of slag. Why do we have gravity?"

"Oh for heaven’s sake," the Pollisand grumped. "Don’t you know anything about your own ship?"

"Not really," Festina replied. "The navy likes to keep Explorers uninformed about ship operations — otherwise, we might realize how incompetent the regular crew members are."

"Same with Security," Aarhus said. "We only guard the ship, we don’t push the buttons."

"And you wonder why your species hasn’t evolved farther." The Pollisand raised his eyes heavenward in exasperation. The eyes cast dancing red glows across the dark ceiling. "Listen," he said, turning back to us, "just because your gravity generators go poof doesn’t mean your gravity field does too. The field dissipates gradually — like heat when you turn off a furnace. Ten hours from now, you and your gear will be floating off the floor, but it doesn’t happen all at once."

"Thank God for small mercies," Festina muttered. "And speaking of mercy," she said to the Pollisand, "I don’t suppose a technically brilliant entity like yourself would help resurrect some of Hemlock’s basic ops?"

"Never!" said the Pollisand in shocked tones. "How will you lesser creatures learn to take care of yourselves if you don’t face the consequences of your actions? Hardship builds character… and I’m sure you’ll build a lot in the next few hours. Ta-ta, y’all."