But the old captain hadn't given The Guesser a nerve-burning in all the years since he had accepted The Guesser as The Guesser. And Captain Reed—
The captain's cold voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Well? What was it? If it was a mechano-electronic misfunction of the computer, say so; we'll speak to the engineer."
The Guesser knew that the captain was giving him what looked like an out—but The Guesser also knew it was a test, a trap.
The Guesser bowed his head very low and saluted. "No, great sir; the fault was mine."
Grand Captain Reed nodded his head in satisfaction. "Very well. Intensity Five, two minutes. Dismissed."
The Guesser bowed his head and saluted, then he turned and walked out the door. The sergeant-at-arms didn't need to follow him; he had been let off very lightly.
He marched off toward the Disciplinary Room with his head at the proper angle—ready to lift it if he met a lesser crewman, ready to lower it if he met an executive officer.
He could already feel the terrible pain of the nerve-burner coursing through his body—a jolt every ten seconds for two minutes, like a whip lashing all over his body at once. His only satisfaction was the knowledge that he had sentenced Kraybo to ten minutes of the same thing.