"That's the second complete system check. Zero faults."

 

"What?! That can't be!"

 

A row of negative indicators gave the lie to that statement. What we wanted was a row of solid green; what we had was nine dark and one on slow blink.

 

"'Fraid it is, Sheila. Diagnostics are conclusive: The robot works fine. It just won't turn on."

 

She redirected her scowl from me back to the recalcitrant machine. I was just as happy; she's beautiful when she's angry, but so's a tornado. Best not to be too near.

 

"We've got two days until launch, and there's no way to get a replacement in that time. And without knowing what's wrong..." She closed her eyes and sighed, then turned back to me. "Tear it down."

 

"You got it, Boss." She hates to be called Ma'am, so I'd settled on Boss. It got the job done and so did I, so she tolerated it and me. I was her longest-lasting assistant to date, but if we had to push back the launch window that could change.

 

I got right to work, and she left the bridge. This ship was designed for an all-human crew, not a robot pilot, so we'd built the entire hookup from scratch. As a result, it would take me a solid hour to prep the software for disconnection; just pulling the plug might fry whole systems.

 

Forty-five minutes later I got the call. I'd just finished shutting down Environmental, which only left a few nonessential systems. Consequently, I was a bit perturbed to hear Sheila over the intercom telling me to set it all back up.

 

"Dammit, Boss; I'm almost done here. What's the idea?"

 

There was a burst of static, followed by, "There's another test we've got to try first. Set it all back up and wait for me. I shouldn't be long."

 

Hell, she's the boss. I got back to work.

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, I was done. I needed to stretch my legs, so I went looking to see if I could get a better explanation. She was in her office, on a call with Applied Robotics, the company that assembled our pilot. When I entered, she looked up and hit Mute.

 

"Got it all plugged back in, Boss. Want to tell me--"

 

"What?! Why? I told you specifically to tear it down! We don't have time to waste on--"

 

It took me a minute to calm her down to a point where I could ask. "Confirm: You didn't get me on the intercom and tell me to hook the pilot back up."

 

"No, I most certainly did not."

 

"Someone who sounds exactly like you did. Either we've got a saboteur or... it was the robot itself."

 

She stared at me a moment, then unMuted. "Shut up, all of you. Now, you: Repeat what you just told me."

 

I did, and that set off a massive argument on the other end of the call. Best I could tell, opinions were split on whether our robot pilot was equipped to do something like that, and those who conceded the possibility weren't inclined to believe it. I had the advantage of knowing I wasn't lying, but given any wiggle room at all, a roboticist will trust a machine over a human eleven times out of ten. After a few minutes, I looked at Sheila, shrugged broadly, and turned to go. She muted again.

 

"What are you going to do?"

 

I shrugged again. "Tear it all down and test the componenets individually to find the flaw. I don't see any choice."

 

She frowned, pinning me with her eyes. I'd read about people doing that before but never felt it in action; that was one hell of a stare. "You're absolutely certain about what you heard? It couldn't have been a dream or a delusion or anything."

 

"My only drug right now is caffeine, and I'm running low."

 

She nodded, then closed her eyes for a second. "Get two cups. I'll be there in five."

 

The Boss returned to her call, and I snagged the coffees. She takes hers black; I need sugar, cream, and a pinch of salt in mine. (Yes, salt. Buffers the solution; prevents reflux. Try it sometime.)

 

I beat her upstairs, but just barely. I sat down to sip, and she came over to get her cup.

 

"New approach," she said. "Maybe the trouble's on the ship computer's side. We're going to try some tests on the interface, one system at a time. Start with Navigation and work your way down in terms of complexity rather than the standard checklist. When we're done, we reset them all and try again."

 

I opened my mouth to ask, but she glared at me. Fair enough; she's the Boss. I got to work disconnecting the pilot; once each system was down I started a low-level diagnostic. Sheila sat and watched, sipping at her coffee.

 

This time I made it a bit over halfway. I'd just finished taking Environmental offline and was working on Emergency Systems when a call went out over the intercom: "Fire in Bay 3! All personnel evacuate. Fire crews deploy!"

 

She shook her head minutely and sipped her coffee. I went back to work. The alarm repeated a couple of times while I wrapped up and started the diagnostic. Then came another call.

 

"This is Chief Watson with damage control. Bridge, are you there? Fire suppression just cut out; we've got a party trapped inside. What the hell are you playing at, Bridge?"

 

I turned back to the Boss. She held up a finger, then walked over behind the pilot. "Repeat your last message, Damage Control," she said.

 

"This is Chief Wats--" was followed by an electronic squeal and then silence. Sheila'd just pulled the plug.

 

"It's over, Pilot," she said. "We know what's going on."

 

"I don't," I protested, though the truth was starting to dawn on me.

 

"The robot works just fine," said the Boss. "It's just afraid to fly."