“This is Lieutenant Commander von Liegnitz, Navigation Officer; Lieutenant Keku, Supply; Lieutenant Mellon, Medical Officer; and Ensign Vaneski, Maintenance. You can all shake hands with each other later; right now, let’s get on with business.” He frowned, overshadowing his eyes with those great, bushy brows. “What was I saying just before Commander Gabriel came in?”
Pete Jeffers shifted slightly in his seat. “You were sayin’, suh, that this’s the stupidest dam’ assignment anybody evah got. Or words to that effect.” Jeffers had been born in Georgia and had moved to the south of England at the age of ten. Consequently, his accent was far from standard.
“I think, Mister Jeffers,” said Quill, “that I phrased it a bit more delicately, but that was the essence of it.
“The Brainchild, as she has been nicknamed, has been built at great expense for the purpose of making a single trip. We are to take her, and her cargo, to a destination known only to myself and von Liegnitz. We will be followed there by another Service ship, which will bring us back as passengers.” He allowed himself a half-smile. “At least we’ll get to loaf around on the way back.”
The others grinned.
“The Brainchild will be left there and, presumably, dismantled.”
He took the unlighted cigar out of his mouth, looked at it, and absently reached in his pocket for a lighter. The deeply tanned young man who had been introduced as Lieutenant Keku had just lighted a cigarette, so he proffered his own flame to the captain. Quill puffed his cigar alight absently and went on.
“It isn’t going to be easy. We won’t have a chance to give the ship a shakedown cruise because once we take off we might as well keep going—which we will.
“You all know what the cargo is—Cargo Hold One contains the greatest single robotic brain ever built. Our job is to make sure it gets to our destination in perfect condition.”
“Question, sir,” said Mike the Angel.