“They’ll give us medals. That’s what they’ll do. For safe delivery of one million tons of tractor fuel, you two fine specimens of manhood are hereby presented with the Order of the Oil. And for your courageous service in delivering two million tons of potato fertilizer, you are also awarded the shield of—” “Never mind,” Banner said. “It could be worse. They could’ve saddled us with a Bean Brain. Come on. Let’s go to some bar and get sober. We’re leaving for freight duty at 1700.” The Bean Brain met them at the air lock. “Name is Arnold. Here’s my orders.” Banner stared at Harcraft, Harcraft stared at Arnold. “Get inside,” said Banner. The Bean Brain smiled, “Er ... could you sort of lead the way? I’ve never been inside a ship before. If you got some kind of can, it would save a mess. I’ll probably vomit a while.” They stopped calling him Bean Brain three days later. He was still sick, miserably spacesick, and neither Banner nor Harcraft had the heart to keep needling him. On the fourth day he managed to get up and around. They ate their first meal together that day. “Let’s get something straight right off the bat,” Banner said. “Neither Harcraft nor I got anything against you ’cept prejudice. That right, Harcraft?” “Right,” Harcraft said. “In short,” continued Banner, between puffs on a cigarette, “all we know is what we’ve heard.” “And that’s not good,” said Harcraft. “Item one,” said Banner, blowing smoke at the ceiling ventilator. “Patrol Command came up with the Bean Brain idea about six months ago. Patrol Command, in its infinite wisdom, has never seen fit to explain _why_ Bean Brains are sometimes assigned, evidently at random, to small patrol vessels such as this. The orders always state that the ‘passenger’ will accompany pilot and co-pilot throughout the entire trip, will obey orders, yet is equal in rank to the ship’s commanding officer. The Bean Brain has no duties aboard. This seems to make sense, at least, since Bean Brains aren’t trained for anything and can’t do anything.” “Item two,” said Banner, taking his eyes off the ceiling and pointing a finger at Arnold. “I have, or had, two good friends—both patrol captains—who had the honor of taxiing Bean Brains around the universe. One never came back. The other, Captain Slatkin, came back and got a big medal for reasons he’ll never talk about.” “And Slatkin liked to brag,” said Harcraft, knowingly. Arnold stood up slowly. He was a small man, but as he looked up at the ship’s pilot and co-pilot, he gave both the impression of height and strength. “I’ll tell you something, too,” he said, speaking slowly as if in pain. “I don’t know why Bean Brains are assigned to ships like this either. I’ve never been told. I took the job because I didn’t like what I was doing before. I’ve never had any real training, and this seemed like a chance to do something that sounded like fun.