“We Cerberans,” Bogen said softly, “swap minds, you see.”

The man reclined on a soft bedlike couch before an instrument-laden cluster in a small inner chamber of the space vehicle; he was wired, through some sort of helmet device, to the instruments around him. He looked tired, disturbed, and anxious.

“Hold it!” he called out.

The massive computer all around him seemed to pause for a brief moment “Something wrong?” the computer asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

He sat up on the recliner. “Let me take a break before starting this next one. I don’t think I can take two right on top of one another right now. Let me walk around, talk to a few people, generally relax, maybe even get some sleep. Then I’ll be ready. The Confederacy is not going to fall if I wait ten or twelve hours.”

“As you wish,” the computer responded. “However, I do think that time is of the essence. This might be the one that tells us what we need to know.”

“Maybe,” the man sighed, taking off the helmet. “But we’ve been rotting here the better part of a year with nothing much to do. Another few hours won’t mean anything. We’ll probably need all four anyway, and nobody knows when the next two will come in.”

“All that you say is logical and true,” the computer admitted. “Still, I cannot help but wonder if your hesitancy is less governed by such practical matters.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The Lilith account has disturbed you a great deal. I can tell it by your body-function monitors.”

He sighed. “You’re right. Hell, that was me, remember. Me when I went down, and somebody I hardly knew at all when he reported. It’s kind of a shock to discover that you don’t know yourself at all.”