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"I said, ’I’m instructed to stay-’ here, that is. On Drongar. I think you’ll find me more than competent to assist you, sir. I’ve had extensive medical programming, including access to the database files of Sector Gen-"

"What’s your ID classification?" Jos interrupted.

"Eye-Fivewhycue, sir."

Zan frowned. "I’ve never heard of a Fivewhycue line."

The droid glanced at Zan and hesitated a moment be-fore answering. Again, although the rigid features did not change, Jos felt somehow that the droid was mo-mentarily unnerved by Zan’s appearance. But when the I-5YQ answered, it was politely.

"A modification of the Threepio series, sir, with cer-tain changes in the cognitive module units. Its design borrows somewhat from the old Serv-O-Droid Orbots model. The line was discontinued by Cybot Galactica not long after its inception, due to litigation." The droid hesitated, then added, "I am usually called I-Five."

The two surgeons looked at each other. Jos shrugged and said to the droid, "Okay, I-Five.

You’ll be doing double duty-data storage and secretarial as well as as-sisting in the OT.

Think you can handle that?"

I-Five hesitated before answering, and Jos felt again, for just a fraction of a second, that the droid wanted to respond in kind to his sarcasm. But I-Five simply said,

"Yes, sir," and followed them as Jos and Zan started across the compound.

Strange, Jos thought. The heat must really be getting to me if I start expecting droids to mouth off...

11

The man from Black Sun couldn’t believe it.

"This is a joke, right? You’re tapping my buttons."

Bleyd said, "Not in the least." He had disarmed Mathal at blasterpoint, and the man was nearly having a seizure in his disbelief.

"You’re insane!" Mathal’s tone was truculent, but his eyes were darting about nervously, and Bleyd could al-ready smell the man’s fear-sweat.

"In your position, I might think so, too. But I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Now listen carefully. The hatch is locked. The code that opens it is here, in my belt pocket. If you want to leave this vessel alive, you’ll have to collect it from me. There is a large knife in plain sight somewhere on this deck with which you may arm yourself for your attempt."

Mathal glared. "Yeah? What’s to stop me from breaking your neck right now?"

"You could try, even if I didn’t have a blaster, but I wouldn’t advise it. I am stronger than you, and my her-itage is... somewhat fiercer. Your chances of victory would be exceedingly small. Even with the knife and me barehanded, the odds are probably no better than fifty-fifty."

"When I get back to my vigo and tell him about this, he’s going to have your skull for a drinking cup."

"That may well be," Bleyd said. "But only if you get past me. I’ll give you two minutes before I come for you. Next time we see each other, one or both of us dies." Bleyd flexed his hands, feeling the tendons in them mov-ing like oiled cables. "You’d best hurry." He nodded in the direction of the spinward corridor.

The human knew a real threat when he heard it, Bleyd gave him that much credit. He tucked his bluff and bluster away and took off, fast. In ten seconds he was out of sight around the corridor’s curve.

Bleyd gave him the rest of the allotted time, enjoying the slight, lingering, sour odor of the man’s sweat, then started down the corridor opposite the direction Mathal had taken.

The weapon was closer this way, and there were several places wherein he could hide to watch it and wait. He would allow the man to collect the knife-that was only fair, since a Sakiyan’s muscles and ligament-attachment angles were mechanically su-perior to those of a human’s, making Bleyd at least half again as powerful as a strong man, and a good deal quicker as well.

Had he been hunting for food, if there had been a mate and younglings to feed back home, he would have pulled a blaster and shot the man dead without a sec-ond’s hesitation. Then dressed him out, shouldered him, and started home. Survival demanded efficiency, and you did not give food-prey any chance-you did not risk yourself