A/N

God, this was the hardest chapter I've ever written. A whole lot of exposition.

But hey! We're on the home stretch, now. Only about two more chapters to go.

All he was aware of in the beginning was the heat. And then everything started hurting. So dizzy…

"Drink."

He struggled to open his eyes. There was a... straw? Yes, a straw. It seemed to dance around. In fact, everything seemed to be swirling about. Like they were in some kind of… ballet. He giggled. That's the word!

"You must drink, Captain."

McCrea obediently took the straw in his mouth, and sucked down the sweetish liquid inside. Tasted like lemon. After emptying the cup he tried to think. Wasn't he supposed to say something? Oh, right. He croaked, "Thanks."

Exhausted with the effort this took, McCrea fell asleep.

Auto threw away the empty BnL-ade sports drink cup. Pausing to examine the dozing figure, the autopilot's spokes twitched. He went over to one of the many storage cabinets, searching for something. Ah. Returning to the side of the hoverchair, he carefully draped a blanket over his Captain.

Upon waking up the next morning, Captain McCrea let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. "Auto? What are you doing down here?"

"I was monitoring your status, sir," the autopilot said. "It had yet to be determined whether more medical attention would be required."

"Oh. Well, thanks. I didn't know you would've cared. After all I've done…" McCrea trailed off.

Auto said simply, "It was my duty."

There was a long silence. McCrea finally broke it by saying, "So, have you been wondering why I stopped eating?"

"That is correct, Captain."

"To tell you the truth, Auto… I'm not really sure. As far as I recall, I was hoping to get you to just pay attention to me." He waved a hand at the computer. "In the old days, people tried something called 'hunger hits.' It was supposed to be a way to get people to see your way of thinking. Maybe even have them agree to what you want. Some guy named Matama Gandy came up with it."

"It was pretty easy, at first. I'd just pretend to eat the food Gopher brought me, and then throw it away after he left." McCrea frowned. "But then something went wrong. After I hadn't eaten for a whole day, I started feeling really bad. I couldn't see straight. Couldn't think straight. On day two, I just... collapsed. What happened, Auto?"

Auto would've sighed if he could have. Instead, he settled with explaining the numerous errors in his Captain's thinking. "First, sir, the term used to describe what you were referring to is 'Hunger Strike.' Second, the point of a hunger strike is to force the opposing party to accede to your demands, by threatening your starvation. By not informing me of your intentions, your hunger strike was useless in forcing me to 'listen to you.' Do you understand, sir?"

The Captain's face colored. "Oh."

"I assume that is a yes. Finally, did you ingest extra water when you went on this supposed hunger strike?"

"No, why?"

"By not consuming your regular meals, you were suffering a shortfall of your regular fluid intake. Since you did not replace this with other liquids, such as water, you quickly became dehydrated."

The autopilot stopped in contemplation, before he added, "You would likely have perished in another day, if I had not noticed an anomaly in the garbage reports. That is what brought this situation to my attention."

"Okay. I… think I understand now." McCrea had a slightly glazed expression. "So you're saying that by not eating, I wasn't getting enough water?"

"Affirmative."

McCrea said, "That wasn't very smart of me."

Auto stared at the Captain without responding. Changing the subject, he said, "In a way, sir, you succeeded. You achieved your stated goal of getting my attention. What is it that you want?"

"To be honest, Auto, all I want is my old job back. I've been in this cabin for what feels like forever." Captain McCrea grinned. "Heck, I'd be happy if you'd just let me out to the Lido deck once in a while. Even if people still think I'm a crazy old coot!"

"I would not classify you as 'old.' Your age is merely 48.9 years." As McCrea rolled his eyes, Auto continued. "Very well, sir. I will allow you to leave your cabin and resume your previous responsibilities, with one qualifier. You must swear to never disrupt conditions aboard the ship again. Agreed?"

"Y-"The portly Captain's jaws closed with an audible snap. "Actually, no, Auto."

"I do not understand."

"Look, you know I can't promise that."

"I still do not understand." Auto's faceplate widened fractionally as he scrutinized McCrea. He said, "Nothing prevents you from entering this agreement, sir."

"In this case, something does. I can't do this. As long as I live, I've gotta find some way to get us home. All of us."

"How?"

"I don't know. Maybe an EVE probe will come back positive again. Maybe everyone will come to their senses, and forget about BnL. Maybe you'll finally admit you're wrong, and just take us to Earth!"

"The chances of any of those events occurring are infinitesimal," Auto said, neglecting to mention that all EVE probes had been scrapped months ago.

"So what? I have to try, Auto. Even if it means that you're just going to lock me up for the rest of my life!"

The autopilot decided to change tack. "Surely, Captain, being 'locked up' would make you unhappy in the long term. Why not admit what you want is impossible? You would gain more enjoyment out of life by being able to move freely, and continuing to act according to your position."

"But me being happy is not the point!" McCrea said angrily. "This is something I've got to do!" He put his face in his hands. "Alright, let me think of a way to put this…"

Suddenly he got an inspiration. He said, "It's like a directive." Auto froze. "You know? Those things you guys, uh, robots have?" Seeing no objection, McCrea plowed on. "Auto, you've got directives, right? Stuff like; no unauthorized personnel on Lido deck during closing hours." He made a face. "And A113 of course…"

"Anyway, you have to follow them. That's all you can do. You definitely can't change your directives!"

"Well, it's the same way with me. My directive is to get this ship we're on back to Earth. So I can't say I won't do it anymore. I'd be lying." He pointed out the window. "Even if I tried to go out there, and pretend nothing was wrong, I'd still feel that directive inside me, pushing. Never going away."

Captain McCrea looked at the autopilot hopefully. "So, do you realize what I'm getting at, Auto?"

Silence.

"Hello? Were you even listening?"

Auto remained perfectly still.

McCrea sighed. "Fine. I guess that's where trying to explain things to a stupid wheel takes-"

"I understand completely, Captain. More than you will ever know."And without elaborating, Auto shot up into the bridge.

In the darkness, a claw touched a glass made entirely of crystal. It hummed, letting out a musical ting. While emptying out the container, Auto paused. Was he making the right choice?

Of course he was.