"More?" Princess Bula hovered, ladle at the ready.

"No, thank you," Wayne said politely.

"No more for me, either," Davic added hurriedly as the princess turned toward him. "I think I've just eaten more in half a microsecond than I usually eat in a decacycle."

"Time for bed, then," Bula said approvingly. "Good food, good bunk, good sprite!" She put one hand on Davic's head and ruffled his hair in what was probably meant to be gentle affection. "I show you good beds. Sleep tight!" She led the way to a pair of sprite-sized bunks tucked into an odd corner formed by the structural beams that carried the ship's engines. She picked Davic up and put him in the top bunk, then tucked them both in and sidled off down the narrow passageways.

They lay there in silence for a nano, then Davic said softly, "Is she gone?"

"I think so."

"Good," Davic said. "If she'd come back to read us a bedtime story I think I'd have had to Portal into a Game or something."

"Can Caen do that?"

"What, 'port into a Game? No." Fabric rustled as Davic shifted.

There was a muffled beeping.

"Oh, sorry, buddy." There was more rustling, then a dim glow.

The beeping grew louder and more strident.

"OK, suit yourself. I'm going to take some downtime while I can get it," Davic said.

Caen clicked, then zipped off toward the hatch.

"Is something wrong?" Wayne asked.

"Hm? No. Caen was just feeling a little hemmed in. It really doesn't like tight spaces."

"Your keytool has claustrophobia?"

"Yeah," Davic replied. He was silent for a moment, then said, "You were the one who convinced Caen to stay with the Collective, you know."

"I was?"

"Mm," Davic confirmed. "I was a couple minutes out of the Academy. Still too dumb to know when I was in over my head. A Web virus got onto my circuit and started taking things apart." Davic took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "To make a long story short, the virus filelocked Caen. I ended up in the Ward, and you spent about three decacycles taking that filelock apart bit by bit."

"I don't remember any of that," Wayne murmured. "No wonder Caen shocked me when I grabbed it."

"That was probably the most random thing I've ever seen you do," Davic commented. "If Caen had been any stronger, it'd have knocked you cold."

"I thought it was Ral," Wayne said.

"Your keytool?"

"Yes." Wayne paused. "Do you know what happened? Why I left the Collective?"

"No idea," Davic replied. "It was before my time, and no one could get you to talk about it. Turbo probably knows."

"That was him out there on the deck, wasn't it? I didn't get too good a look at him."

"Yeah, that's our Prime."

"What? He's the Prime?"

"For the past nine minutes," Davic confirmed.

"Huh," Wayne said. When he spoke again his tone was sad. "I remember Turbo as the guy who mouthed off in class and crashed every time he had to fly Old Gertie."

"You're kidding. The best close-formation pilot in the Collective crashed the simulator?"

"He did it on purpose. He always said it was the only thing he needed to learn how to do."

"I'll bet he spent a lot of time polishing Gertie's bumpers, then."

"He did. I guess he finally learned something from it, though." Wayne sighed. "I remember that, but I can't remember what happened between then and now."

"You will," Davic reassured him. "Once we get your memory tree back together, you'll be the Doc again."

"I suppose I will," Wayne answered. He lay awake, staring at the bottom of Davic's bunk, long after the Net Guardian had fallen asleep.

The Saucy Mare II's Web shields dropped with mechanical grace, stowing themselves without a wasted motion. Snatches of Websong clicked and sighed through the soft-shaded sky.

Bob and Dot stood on the poop deck, watching the Web creatures undulate slowly toward the router on the horizon.

"What are they saying?" Dot's face and voice were pensive.

"It's mostly positional data," Bob answered. He lifted his head and listened for a moment as a snippet of conversation rose and fell. "Someone just said he hasn't seen a real sky since he got lost."

"Is that how it is for them?" Dot asked. "They just get lost?"

"Usually," Bob confirmed. "No one knows why, but every now and then a Web connection resets. If there's a packet in transit when that happens, the packet loses its destination directory."

"Leaving everyone aboard the packet stranded," Dot murmured. She shivered.

"Yes," Bob said soberly. "The Web Riders rescue as many sprites as they can, but most of the time they can't get there before the packet degrades."

"I'm glad they found you in time," Dot said faintly. She shivered again. "Is it just me, or is it cold out here?"

"It's cold," Bob answered. "This LAN processes at a lower speed than Mainframe."

"So it's warmer in the Supercomputer?"

"Why do you think I always wear long sleeves?"

"Wayne."

Wayne's eyes popped open, and he blinked in the dimness of the hold.

"Wayne, wake up. We're here, and we need to talk." Turbo let himself lean against the opposite wall. "We're having a debriefing session in the watch tower."

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Wayne mumbled. He stretched, then sat up. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About two microseconds."

Wayne grunted. "Really? A whole two microseconds? It feels like it was only two nanos." He rubbed his back. "User, I'm stiff."

"It happens when you get old," Turbo said ruefully.

Wayne looked up. "How old are you, Turbo?"

Turbo shrugged in the shadows. "Riding herd on the Collective takes it out of a sprite. Sometimes I feel like I've been around since the First Boot."

"Davic said you're the Prime."

"Yes, I am." Turbo folded his arms. "Davic said you couldn't remember why you left the Collective."

"He said you might know."

"Yeah, I do. You sure you want to hear it? You'll remember for yourself, soon as we get your memory tree reorganized."

"I'm not sure I want that, Turbo." Wayne bent, and put his elbows on his knees, wincing a little as his back tightened. He ran his hand from the back of his neck over his head. "This 'Doc' that Davic talks about—I don't recognize him at all. He abandoned his protocol long ago—what sort of Guardian does that?"

"A Guardian who almost deleted himself trying to reconfigure an oscillating BIOS one byte at a time." Turbo answered.

Wayne stared at Turbo, his eyes wide in the darkness. "Paganini?"

"Gone. We almost lost you with it."

Wayne buried his face in his hands.

Turbo dropped to his haunches and put one hand on Wayne's shoulder. "Listen, Wayne—"

"What happened to Ral?" Wayne bit out.

Turbo lowered his hand, and his head. "When you purged your protocol, Ral 'ported outsystem. No one knows where it went."

Copland buzzed softly.

"The keytools haven't heard from Ral in minutes," Turbo translated.

"I lost my system," Wayne murmured. "I lost my system." He took a deep, shuddering breath, then looked up at Turbo. "If I went through training again, would you graduate me?"

"You mean would I risk putting lives into your hands again? I do that every cycle, Wayne."

"But a doctor only handles one patient at a time," Wayne countered. "It's not the same thing."

"Wanna bet?" Turbo asked softly. "You don't know what you're capable of, Wayne. There's an epidemic out there, and no Guardian is going stop it. I let you come out here because I knew if anyone could find the cure for this thing, Doc Wayne could."

"User, Turbo, I have the infection!"

"So does most of the Net."

Wayne's eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me, Turbo?"

"Paganini's fifteen minutes gone, Wayne," Turbo said bluntly. "You don't feel that because the infection's messing with your head, but for the rest of us, it's long-archived history. I feel for you, and if I was just your friend I'd sit here and mope with you the same way I did the first time around, but I haven't got time for that now. We're marooned in this system until the Web's passable again—that could be anything from microseconds to decacycles, according to the Web Riders. Meanwhile, there's an epidemic running out of control over the entire Net, and the only lead we have on how to stop it is locked up in a cadet that we have to keep unconscious because he's been slaved to a Trojan Horse virus." Turbo rose. "Things aren't as simple as they were fifteen minutes ago, Wayne. We aren't kids playing against sims anymore. This is real, and this is the only chance we get. I don't need another Guardian. I need the sprite who can save us."