ted of you? I'm
very glad you're willing, because I just don't know what I'd do if you
refused."

Kraybo's face burned crimson, but he said nothing.

The Guesser's voice was sarcastically soft. "But I guess about the only
thing I could do in that case would be to"--The Guesser's voice suddenly
became a bellow--"_kick your thick head in_!"

Kraybo's face drained of color suddenly.

The Guesser became suddenly brusque. "Never mind. We'll let it go for
now. Report to the Discipline Master in Intensity Five for ten minutes
total application time. Dismissed."

Kraybo, whose face had become even whiter, paused for a moment, as
though he were going to plead with The Guesser. But he saw the look in
his superior's eyes and thought better of it.

"Yes, sir," he said in a weak voice. He saluted and left.

* * * * *

And The Guesser just sat there, waiting for what he knew would come.

It did. High Lieutenant Blyke showed up within two minutes after Kraybo
had left. He stood at the door of The Guesser's cubicle, accompanied by
a sergeant-at-arms.

"Master Guesser, you will come with us." His manner was bored and
somewhat flat.

The Guesser bowed his head as he saluted. "As you command, great sir."
And he followed the lieutenant into the corridor, the sergeant tagging
along behind.

The Guesser wasn't thinking of his own forthcoming session with the
captain; he was thinking of Kraybo.

Kraybo was twenty-one, and had been in training as a Guesser ever since
he was old enough to speak and understand. He showed occasional flashes
of tremendous ability, but most of the time he seemed--well, _lazy_. And
then, there was always the question of his actual ability.

A battle in the weirdly distorted space of ultralight velocities
requires more than machines and more than merely ordinary human
abilities. No computer, however built, can possibly estimate the flight
of a dodging spaceship with a canny human being at the controls. Even
the superfast beams from a megadyne force gun require a finite time to
reach their target, and it is necessary to fire at the place where the
attacking ship will be, not at the position it is occupying at the time
of firing. That was a bit of knowledge as old as human warfare: you must
lead a moving target.

For a target moving at a constant velocity, or a constant acceleration,
or in any other kind of orbit which is mathematically predictable, a
computer was not