“Verbal instructions require authorization overrides,” the voice said finally. “Identify source of authority.”

“My own, as Senior Fleet Captain Colin MacIntyre, commanding officer, ship-of-the-line Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One.” Colin was amazed by how level his own voice sounded.

“Authorization provisionally accepted,” the voice said. “Searching security data base.”

There was another moment of silence, then the voice spoke again.

“Search completed. Implant identification codes located. Anomalies.”

“Specify anomalies.”

“Specification one: identification codes not current. Specification two: no Senior Fleet Captain Colinmacintyre listed in Fleet Central’s data base. Specification Three: Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, lost fifty one thousand six hundred nine point-eight-four-six standard years ago.”

“My codes were current as of Dahak’s departure for the Noarl System on picket duty. I should be added to your data base as a descendant of Dahak’s core crew, promoted to fill a vacancy left by combat losses.”

“That is not possible. Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, no longer exists.”

“Then what’s my non-existent command doing here?” Colin demanded.

“Null-value query.”

“Null-value?! Dahak’s in orbit with Fleet Central right now!”

“Datum invalid,” Fleet Central observed. “No such unit is present.”

Colin resisted an urge to smash a bioenhanced fist through the console.

“Then what is the object accompanying Fleet Central in orbit?” he snarled.

“Data anomaly,” Fleet Central said emotionlessly.

“What data anomaly, damn it?!”

“Perimeter Security defensive programming prohibits approach within eight light-hours of Planet Birhat without valid identification codes. Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, no longer exists. Therefore, no such unit can be present. Therefore, scanner reports represent data anomaly.”

Colin punched a couch arm in sudden understanding. For some reason, this dummy—or its outer surveillance systems, anyway—had accepted Dahak’s ID and let him in. For some other reason, the central computers had not accepted that ID. Faced with the fact that no improperly identified unit could be here, this moron had labeled Dahak a “data anomaly” and decided to ignore him!

“Computer,” he said finally, “assume—hypothetically—that a unit identified as Dahak was admitted to the Bia System by Perimeter Security. How might that situation arise?”

“Programming error,” Fleet Central said calmly.

“Explain.”

“No Confirmation of Loss report on Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, was filed with Fleet Central. Loss of vessel is noted in Log Reference Rho-Upsilon-Beta-Seven-Six-One-Niner-Four, but failure to confirm loss report resulted in improper data storage.” Fleet Central fell silent, satisfied with its own pronouncement, and Colin managed not to swear.

“Which means?”

“ID codes for Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, were not purged from memory.”

Colin closed his eyes. Dear God. This brainless wonder had let Dahak into the system because he’d identified himself and his codes were still in memory, but now that he was here, it didn’t believe in him!

“How might that programming error be resolved?” he asked at last.

“Conflicting data must be removed from data base.”

Colin drew another deep breath, aware of just how fragile this entire discussion was. If this computer could decide something Dahak’s size didn’t exist, it could certainly do the same with the “data anomaly’s” captain.

“Evaluate possibility that Log Reference Rho-Upsilon-Beta-Seven-Six-One-Niner-Four is an incorrect datum,” he said flatly.

“Possibility exists. Probability impossible to assess,” Fleet Central replied, and Colin allowed himself a slight feeling of relief. Very slight.

“In that case, I instruct you to purge it from memory,” he said, and held his breath.

“Incorrect procedure,” Fleet Central responded.

“Incorrect in what fashion?” Colin asked tautly.

“Full memory purge requires authorization from human command crew.”

Colin cocked a mental ear. Full memory purge?

“Can data concerning my command be placed in inactive storage on my authority pending proper authorization?”

“Affirmative.”

“Then I instruct you to do so with previously specified log entry.”

“Proceeding. Data transferred to inactive storage.”

Colin shuddered in explosive relaxation, then gave himself a mental shake. He might well be relaxing too soon.

“Computer, who am I?” he asked softly.

“You are Senior Fleet Captain Colinmacintyre, commanding officer HIMP Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One,” the voice said emotionlessly.

“And what is the current location of my command?”

“HIMP Dahak, Hull Number One-Seven-Two-Two-Niner-One, is currently in Birhat orbit, ten thousand seventeen point-five kilometers distant from Fleet Central,” the musical voice told him calmly, and Colin MacIntyre breathed a short, soft, fervent prayer of thanks before jubilation overwhelmed him.

“All right!” Colin’s palms slammed down on the couch arms in triumph.

“What passeth, my Colin?” an urgent voice demanded through his fold-space link, and he realized he’d left it open.

“We’re in, ’Tanni! Tell all hands—we’re in!”

“Bravely done! Oh, bravely, my heart!”

“Thank you,” he said softly, then straightened and returned to business. “Computer.”

“Yes, Senior Fleet Captain?”

“What’s your name, Computer?”

“This unit is officially designated Fleet Central Computer Central,” the musical voice replied.

“Is that what your human personnel called you?”

“Negative, Senior Fleet Captain.”

“Well, then, what did they call you?” Colin asked patiently.

“Fleet Central personnel refer to Comp Cent as ‘Mother.’ ”

“Mother,” Colin muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. Oh, well, if that was what Fleet Central was used to…

“All right, Mother, prepare to accept memory core download from Dahak.”

“Ready,” Mother said instantly.

“Dahak, initiate core download but do not purge.”

“Initiating,” Dahak replied calmly, and Colin felt an incredible surge of data. He caught only the fringes of it through his feed, but it was like standing on the brink of a river in flood. It was almost frightening, making him suddenly and humbly aware of the storage limitations of a human brain, yet for all its titanic proportions, it took barely ten minutes to complete.

“Download completed,” Mother announced. “Data stored.”

“Excellent! Now, give me a report on Fleet status.”

“Fleet Central authorization code required,” Mother told him, and Colin frowned as his enthusiasm was checked abruptly. He didn’t know the authorization codes.

He pulled on the end of his nose, thinking hard. Only Mother “herself” could give him the codes, and the one absolute certainty was that she wouldn’t. She accepted him as a senior fleet captain, which entitled him to a certain authority in areas pertaining to his own command but did not entitle him to access the material he desperately needed. Which was all the more maddening because he’d become used to instant information flow from Dahak.

Well, now, why did he have that information from Dahak? Because he was Dahak’s commander. And how had he become the CO? Because authority devolved on the senior crew member present and Dahak had chosen to regard a primitive from Earth as a member of his crew. Which suggested one possible approach.