Free The Black Hole by Alan Dean Foster

familiar metal flank an affectionate pat. He did not bother to ask if the rest of the connector was safe. Vincent would have informed Kate if there had been any danger.
    "Out of the frying pan," the robot quipped, blithely ignoring the fact that he was a nearer relative of said pan than anything liable to be cooking in it. "Hopefully not into the proverbial fire."
    McCrae moved alongside, eyed the machine critically. "You sure you're all right?"
    "I was banged around a bit when I lost my grip on the hull. Nothing a hammer and a little metal polish can't fix, thank you. It is fortunate that my heart depends on the steady flow of electrons and not on corpuscles and cells, or I might have had an attack when I was floating away from the ship. I am glad my body is not subject to such fragile organic fluxations as thromboses."
    "Stick it in your lubricatory orifice," Pizer advised with a smile. "One of these days you'll suffer a severe oil blockage, and then we'll see who has the laugh. I'll take flesh and blood over cold molybdenoy any day."
    "And you may have it," Vincent shot back, giving a passable version of a metallic shudder.
    "Easy, now," said Holland, interrupting the banter. He pointed down the umbilical. "Company's coming."
    A bright oval of light had appeared at the far end of the connector link. They waited tensely. When the silence and inaction became unbearable, Holland finally yelled out.
    "Hey! This is Daniel Holland commanding the S.S. Palomino! We've had some trouble with our regulator system and we could use some help."
    His plea for assistance produced no more response from the opened end of the umbilical than had his self-identification. No one appeared to call back to them.
    "Looks like we'll have to go to them." McCrae's grip on her pistol loosened. "Funny sort of greeting. First they ignore us. Then they turn on every light on the ship and extend an umbilical for us. And now they're ignoring us again."
    Holland nodded. "This changes things some. Charlie, you stay with the Palomino . We'll use channel C for communication. Linked that way, we ought to be able to stay in touch."
    Pizer started to argue with him, visibly disappointed. "You're going to need—"
    "That's an order, Charlie. You or I have to stay with the ship."
    "And since you have rank . . ." Pizer began tactlessly.
    "And since it's my place to go, and since that's what the regulations say, I'm going and you're staying."
    Pizer slumped, looked resigned. "Yes, sir. You're right, of course. Sorry for the backtalk."
    "Talk back, Charlie. After eighteen months together, you ought to know you can't offend me."
    The first officer's mood lightened somewhat.
    "We have each other to depend on," Holland added, indicating the others surrounding him, "but we all have to depend on you. Keep the ship's eyes and ears open and see what you can find out. It's liable to be more than we will."
    "That's true." Pizer managed a smart salute.
    "Don't worry, Mr. Pizer." Vincent had pivoted to face him. "They also serve who only stand and wait."
    "Vincent, sometimes I think they switched your programming with that of a literary robot. Or were you programmed especially to bug me?"
    "No, sir. To educate you."
    McCrae laughed, a little nervously. Beneath Vincent's easy humor and his very human sense of camaraderie was the unavoidable fact that he contained far more in the way of factual knowledge than any human brain. But this was the first time she had ever heard him even hint at his mental superiority. Her reaction, she knew, was more a reflection of her own hidden, foolish fears than of anything the robot had said. The fact was, she had more reason to fear any human than she did Vincent.
    The comment had no effect on Pizer. "When I volunteered for this mission," he said ruefully, "I never thought I'd end up playing straight man to a tin can."
    "What is a tin can , sir?" Vincent asked, revealing (deliberately? McCrae wondered) a gap in his vast store of