Vax sat staring at the screen. I suspected his mind was on automatic; thanks to my cruelty he was exhausted. He wouldn’t be the only one; the crew had been on standby for nearly two hours.

No matter. I bent to my console.”We’ll do our calculations step by step, all. three of us. No, make that four; Darla, calculate along with us. We’ll do a step at a time, until we all agree.” I entered the initial figures. We bent over our screens. Darla put her results on the simulscreen above our heads.

Slowly we worked our way through the base calculations.

No problem. Then we matched stellars, compensating by the book. We all still agreed. We all used the same plot for our present location. Our target location was right out of the charts. We entered ship’s mass.

“Hey!” Vax spoke involuntarily. Three of the figures on the screen agreed. The fourth, mine, was different.

“There’s your error, Captain.” The Pilot’s voice wasn’t a sneer but it didn’t miss by much. “You picked up a funny number for the ship’s mass. 213.5 units.”

“I thought I figured it right.” I felt a blast of Lieutenant Cousins’s withering scorn from wherever he was watching. “I calculated it the way we always do, base weight minus--” “You figured ship’s mass fresh each time?” The Pilot seemed astonished. Probably he meant no disrespect; he was so startled he simply forgot his manners. “We take mass from Darla’s automatic Log entry. Vax, isn’t that how you did it?”

“Yes, sir.” Vax was trying not to be noticed.

“Darla?”

“Mass is a programmed parameter,” Darla answered.

“You know the ship recycles everything. I can’t vary the adjusted mass except when you log an order for general recalc.”

I stared at my figures, trying to puzzle out how I could have gone so wrong. Obviously the three of them knew something I didn’t. I racked my brain trying to remember fusion theory from Academy. “I was starting with base mass, and subtracting the mass of the ship’s launch and the estimated weight of the passengers lost with it from--”

The Pilot chortled. “That’s all in the programming parameter Darla gives you.”

“At Academy they made us run everything fresh each time, and Lieutenant Cousins never said to... “

Mr. Haynes was magnanimous. “Sir, that was just for practice. We’d be a week refiguring, each time we stopped for nav check. Remember your drill with Captain Haag? He had you use programmed parameters.”

“I assumed it was just to save time. He was fidgeting, and I couldn’t seem... “ I chopped off the memory. While my ears reddened, I thumbed through the Log searching for the programmed parameters. “So, we start with Darla’s base mass--”

“No, sir, the puter runs adjusted mass too. That’s base mass minus passengers or cargo off-loaded since the last general recalc.”

I’d made fool enough of myself for one day. “Very well, no wonder I was off. I’ll do it your way. Darla, confirm adjusted ma--”

The speaker crackled. “Bridge, engine room here.” The Chief. “Do we continue standing by to Fuse?”

How long had I kept them waiting? I bit my lip; over three hours. No wonder I was exhausted, and wringing wet.”We’ll be ready in a moment, Chief.” Where was I? We had three matched sets of calculations, and we’d found my error. Time to get on with it. I started to wipe my figures, saw the Pilot’s complacent smirk. I gritted my teeth, determined not to lash out at him. Instead, I decided to backtrack and correct my calculations. I obviously needed the practice, and with that attitude he could bloody well wait as long as it took.

“Here, where I subtracted the launch weight... I enter Darla’s adjusted mass, right?”

Vax hid a yawn.

“Now, I can scrub my subtraction... by the way, what was the base mass when Hibernialeft Earthport?” The puter’s tone was a touch cross. “Are you asking me? If so, I need a pronoun as referent.”

“Just give me the parameter, Darla.”

“215.6 standard units.”

“I meant base mass.”

“215.6 standard units is base mass, Captain. How many times do we need to go through this?” Vax dozed. I wiped my calculation back to the point of error. The Pilot shifted impatiently. My head was spinning, and I’d kept them all waiting long enough. Still...

“Well, sir?”

My tone was curt. “Pilot, read from the Log our adjusted mass and our base mass.”

“For heaven’s--aye aye, sir.” His fingers played the keys.

“Adjusted mass is 215.6 units. Base mass is two hun--”

The Pilot made an awful sound. His face went gray.

I said, “It doesn’t seem quite right, does it? I mean, the two figures should differ.”

“You caught an error,” Pilot Haynes whispered. “The numbers we used were wrong!”

Vax jerked upright, dismayed. If the Pilot was in error, so was he.

I was dumbfounded.”But Darla figured it your way! Puters don’t forget parameters.”

The Pilot spoke first. “We must not be asking her the right question. Darla, what is ship’s mass adjusted for the loss of the launch and passengers?”

“Adjusted mass is 215.6,” she repeated.

I said, “Adjust your programmed base mass by the mass of the ship’s launch. It’s no longer on board.”

“Mass has been adjusted as per standing calculation instructions,” she said primly. “That’s automatic.”

“Holy Mother!” breathed Vax. “Darla has a glitch!”

“I do not!” Darla was indignant. “Watch your mouth, middy!”

“He meant it the old-fashioned way, Darla,” I said quickly. “A gigo error.” Darla had taken offense at being called brain damaged.

“But she--”

“Shut up, Vax.” Like everyone, I’d heard dark rumors about ships that sailed interstellar with angry puters and were never heard of again.

We lapsed into silence. Darla threw random wavelengths of interference across the simulscreen, her equivalent of muttering under her breath. Something caught Vax’s attention on the opposite side of the room. I realized he was reluctant to meet my eye.

I said, “But how could we have Defused so near Celestina,if Darla’s figures are”--I dropped my voice--”glitched?”

“Maybe they weren’t, at the time.” The Pilot tapped into his console, peered at the figures he summoned. “These are the coordinates we used to find Celestina.Adjusted mass was the same as base. But remember, before we lost the launch, they would be expected to match.”

“Didn’t Captain Malstrom order a recalc before he Fused?”

“I would think so.” He shrugged. “Check the Log.”

“Check it yourself!” I clamped down, before I flew into a tirade. Now was no time to provoke another officer.

“Aye aye, sir.” A hint of sullenness. His keys clicked.

“Yes, it would appear so. The day of the memorial service.”

A frown. “For some reason, they didn’t fully enter the new figures, or Darla would have them now.”

“Darla, can you recalculate parameters?”

“Of course I can.” I waited for more, but nothing was forthcoming.

“Do so.”

“Order received and acknowledged, Captain. I’ll need your special authorization code.”

“Where is it?”

Her voice was sweet. “If they told me that, you wouldn’t need one.”

“Pilot, where do I find my codes?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” His tone was placating.

“Sir, why don’t we override the puter’s solution with your own manual plot in order to Fuse, and recalc afterward.”

“Is that safe?”

“Yes, sir.”

It would get us moving. “Very well, then.”

A silence. The Pilot blurted, “Sir, the figures I gave you were worthless. Yours was the only correct solution. I apologize most sincerely for my mistake.”

I snarled, “Belay that. Let’s get under weigh.” It did little good to assure the crew all was well, then sit for hours unable to Fuse.

“Captain, may I be relieved from watch and be allowed to leave the bridge?”

“No, Pilot.” I didn’t feel charitable, after enduring his smirk. “After we Fuse, search the Log and the databanks until you find my authorization code for a recalc.”