"He's thirsty," Val Con said, dreamily, then shook himself out of the half-doze he'd fallen into. "I wonder if we ought to unwrap the main unit."

"We ought not to unwrap the main unit," Shan said firmly. "You do recall that we don't have the faintest notion what it actually is?"

"It's an environmental operations module," Val Con said.

"With connectors. Thank you. Do you see any sign of those connectors, by the way?"

Val Con looked around the cramped space. "I don't—no, wait. The slat directly opposite me is deeper than the one next."

"Oh, is it?"

There was the sound of purposeful footsteps and a flutter of light and shadow as Shan moved to the other side of the crate.

"I see it," he said, followed by the sharp snap of the slat being removed.

"Come out, Val Con, do," he added, and Val Con backed out of the crate on his elbows to join his brother at the workbench.

The low-power light had weighed in their decision to store the environmental module in one of the workrooms off of the cargo section. Also, now that it was his, Val Con was more than a little eager to see whatever it was he owned.

"They look like standard data-jacks," Shan said, laying them out on the bench.

Val Con picked up a black box about the size of his palm with whisker-wires bristling along one side.

"What do you suppose this is?"

Shan glanced at it. "Voice box."

"Of course," Val Con murmured.

"If you're satisfied for the moment," Shan said, "I suggest we lash the crate to the floor. Then, I will tend to my own cargo and you, if you'll allow me to express some brotherly concern, will get something to eat and perhaps a nap before Father returns."

It was a good plan—in fact, Val Con thought, as his stomach suddenly rumbled, it was an excellent plan. He said so, and the two of them made quick work of securing the crate. They left the workroom, walking together as far as the main cargo hall, where Val Con turned right, toward the ship's core and the crew cafeteria, and Shan went left, toward his small private cargo space.