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Originally designed for peaceful purposes, the Starsearchers and their pilots had been altered for war. Thousands were lost in the war, and the pilots grew younger and younger, less and less experienced. By the end of the war, only a few pilots were left. They were sent off to various parts of the quadrant, to search for a planet the Omearans could safely colonize.

Thus it was that Jaldark, all of fifteen in human years, had found herself alone with her malfunctioning implants in the darkness of space. All alone, except for Friend.

Humans could not possibly understand this, thought 110 in wonder. They were so very separate. Even in their marriages, which he understood brought physical union, they remained two separate entities, with their own personalities and uniqueness. The humanoid races that had developed telepathy might have moved closer to comprehension, but even they could not share information so profoundly. Bynars could; clearly, the union of ship and pilot was closer to that union experienced by the Bynars than anything the crew of the da Vinci could conceive.

But . . . you do? Friend’s “voice,” in his mind, quivered along the implants that served for nerves, tingling where 110 was physically impaled upon the ship’s spikes.

110 let his memories be the answer. It was his turn to flood Friend’s chips with images. Friend was silent as it absorbed the information. 110 thought of Bynaus, of his joining with 111, of the grace and speed and efficiency with which they worked together. He let Friend in on the intimacy of computer linkage with another living being, something he knew Friend understood only too well. Organic being, computer bytes, joined in two beings who were not really two, but one.

I understand, came the response, but not even in words, not anymore. The Bynar and the sentient ship had surpassed such clumsy methods of communication now that they trusted one another. Steeling himself for the fresh wave of pain, 110 relived 111’s death. The emptiness, the aching, the repeated, increasingly frantic queries to a mind that was already gone. Oh, yes, he knew loss such as Friend had experienced.

Friend’s agony washed through 110, and the Bynar experienced it as if it were his own. He swam upward, drowning in the linkage, long enough to press the button on the tricorder. He forced his eyes open. He would have to watch Jaldark’s logs for the second time. Through the link they had established, Friend would then also see them. He would see, and believe.

So much information coursing through his brain, along his artificial nerves! Jaldark’s childish face appeared on the screen, saying words that pierced both vessel and Bynar.

I love sharing things with Friend . . . I love it when we link up and I’ve got the whole ship’s sensors at my hands. . . . To be able to experience so many things that, as an organic being, I’d never otherwise know is indescribable. And he is so close to me when we’re joined. I’ve never known anything like it . . . He’s really sensitive to my happiness. It’s nice to have things like that matter to someone else so much. . . . I tried to explain to Friend about how great it feels to walk on soft grass in your bare feet, but he didn’t quite get it, I think. . . .

She was wrong, came Friend’s thoughts. Through her, I knew. I knew everything. . . .

It was the most amazing sensation, to be linked with him . . . I just love Friend so much. He’s the most wonderful ship. I’m so glad I’m bonded with him for the rest of my life. . . . I guess I’m just the luckiest girl in the universe. . . . Something’s wrong . . . Friend can sense it, but I’m not telling him any more than I have to in order to maintain function. I don’t know that we’ll make it in time. I hate lying to him like this.

110 had thought the ship’s pain difficult to deal with, but the raw rage almost stopped his heart.

Why did she not tell me? There were things I could have done, systems I could have shut down, that would have made us much more efficient!

She did not wish to