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the spaceplane, he blinked in the bright beam of light being
aimed at him. XJ fired another tiny probe, hitting Tusk in the knee.
    "I'm out, damn
it!" Glaring at the holes burned into his pants, Tusk made an
angry swipe at the computer's remote unit. It bobbed nonchalantly out
of his reach. "What is it? The circuitry ready to test?"
    "Forget the
circuitry," the computer replied. 'The kid's gone."
    "Kid?" Tusk's
mind, intent upon his damaged deflector shields, couldn't recall for
an instant what kid was gone or why he should be worried if one was.
Then he remembered and swore earnestly and with feeling.
    "Colorful, but
does nothing to alleviate the situation," XJ commented. "And
may I point out that the use of foul language is the typical response
of the uneducated and unimaginative human, who has a limited
vocabulary—"
    "You were supposed
to be looking after him!"
    "Who the hell died
and made me his mother?" The computer beeped in indignation. "I
had that blasted circuitry you fried to reroute! Besides, I was
watching him—sort of. One minute the kid's sitting at the
keyboard and the next he flies into a rage and storms out. Right when
I got life-support reprogrammed, too. I— What in the—"
    A brilliant flare of
light, blazing like a comet, streaked across the night sky.
    Only there were no
comets due in this solar system for the next hundred years.
    "Name of the
Creator!" Tusk breathed, staring up at the fiery arcs of
blue-white flame. "The Warlord!" The mercenary broke into a
run, dashing around to the front of the spaceplane.
    "Where are you
going?" XJ demanded, floating after him.
    "The kid."
    The remote's lights
blinked wildly. "Now your brain's fried as well as your
circuits! We're deserters! We got a hot spaceplane! We'll be doing
good to get off this rock ourselves!"
    "Not without the
kid." Tusk clambered up the ladder and dropped down through the
hatch of the spaceplane, XJ whirring angrily behind.
    "Forget the kid!
We got the money. And not much at that, mind you. Barely enough for
the parts and the fuel. I had to—"
    "It isn't the
money." Flinging clothes around the cabin, Tusk found the pants
he'd been wearing that afternoon and, after a rapid search of his
pockets, came up with the battered leather pouch. He opened it
feverishly.
    "There's no money
left in there," the remote said, its tiny arms wiggling. "I
already checked."
    "I know there's no
money left!" Tusk shook his fist at the computer. "And I've
told you to keep your metal hands out of my pants!" He found a
scrap of paper, pulled it out, and read it. Stuffing the paper into
his shirt pocket, he grabbed his lasgun and started back up the
ladder.
    "I've caught you
trying to hold out on me before! This is an equal partnership,
remember that!" The remote bobbed along after Tusk as he pulled
himself up through the hatch and dropped over the side of the
spaceplane onto the ground. "You never should have accepted this
job without consulting me. It's a breach of our contract. I'll see
you in court!
    "And what do you
mean it isn't the money?" XJ yelled. "Since when has it
ever been anything else?"
    But Tusk had
disappeared into the night.
    XJ-27 went out as far
as the remote's limited range allowed it to go.
    "Maybe his
brain'll kick in." XJ peered into the darkness, waited several
minutes for Tusk to return. But, probing as far as its sensors
ranged, the computer picked up no trace of the mercenary.
    Gleeping to itself
irritably, XJ returned to the spaceplane, where it relieved its
frustration by tying all of Tusk's clean underwear into knots.

Chapter Four
    Benedictus qui venit
in nomine Domini.
    Requiem Mass
    Blessed is he who comes
in the name of the Lord.

    Though Dion had been to
town rarely, he reached the outskirts of the small port city without
getting himself lost. Platus taught that all of life is a great
chain, the nature of which can be known from only a single link. Thus
he had trained Dion to be observant of everything