He wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to pilot a ship or interface with technology. He could barely plot stars. What good was he? He went from laughing to shaking hands and heaving breaths.

"What do they want me for?" he begged hoarsely, forgetting his syntax again.

His eyes beseeched the one called Kurloz to stop being so damn cryptic. Just let him do whatever work was required of him, and he could rest assured he wouldn't be punished. Being "safe" simply meant being held in the capable hands of owners, and their temperaments were as fickle as Helmsman's moods (when he was allowed to have them).