The Warlock's Companion

Muldoon nodded slowly. "Smart again. Your old man has a good head on his shoulders."

Rod felt a flush of purely illogical pleasure, and pride in his father. For the first time, he was glad Dad had put him through all that boring training.

Then something clicked, and he began to wonder if maybe Dad hadn't figured the boredom might give Rod an extra reason to want to leave Maxima.

An unworthy thought, surely. Pater had only been trying to train Rod to be a responsible citizen, and a worthy member of the House d'Armand.

Surely.

As he finished tightening the housing bolts, Rod asked, "What's this turbine do?"

Muldoon gri

"Sorry. Let me try again, sir—what's the main turbine for?"

"It runs the generator."

"Oh." Rod frowned. "Wouldn't it be more efficient to run a converter directly off the fusion plant?"

"Very good," she noted. "But you don't know anything about engines, huh?"

"I don't. That's electronics!"

"There is still a subtle difference," Muldoon admitted. "Well, it would be more efficient, yes—and we do use it when we go to FTL. But it's an extra drain on the plant, and we go sublight most of the time—we're a local freighter, ru

"Oh." Rod nodded. "So the best way isn't always the best way, huh?"

"Well, not optimum, anyway." Muldoon smiled. "Come on—I'll give you the four-bit tour."

She turned away, beckoning, moving like a mermaid as she glided through the air. Rod decided he'd follow that wriggle anywhere.

Muldoon pointed to a massive door in a dull metal wall. "Lead, a meter thick. Behind it is the fusion plant."

Rod asked, "Why the lead? The plasma bottle is a better radiation shield than any metal could be."

She looked up at him, surprised, and nodded. "But if the bottle fails, there could be a brief burst of very hard radiation."

Rod gave a snort of derision.

"I know, I know—but tell that to the rest of the crew. And my hindbrain, for that matter—my prefrontal lobes may believe in science, but my cerebellum is superstitious." She put a hand over her tummy. "I still have hopes of having children."

Rod was suddenly acutely aware of his own vulnerability; before radiation, we're all naked. In fact, we're downright transparent.

"I think you can figure out where the main turbine is, and the generator." Muldoon pointed to a large red toolbox on the floor. "That's the emergency kit. Small fire extinguisher, Geiger counter…" (her mouth twitched) "… basic hand tools, first-aid box, quick-patches in case we're holed, spot-welder, and steel patches. There's a box of quick-patches inset next to every hatch, and one in the middle of the longest wall in each room." She looked up at him. "You savvy?"

Rod nodded. "Maxima's only an asteroid, sir. We're very used to patches."

"Good. This ship has a good deflector field, mind you, and the signal officer—that's Weiser, the Second—"

"I met him," Rod grunted.

Muldoon flashed him a quick look, but went on. "We both spend a lot of time making sure the field generator and its co

Rod gri

Muldoon shook her head. "I don't usually get to a viewscreen while we're matching orbits with you."

"They have a lot of patches on them. All colors, too—and some pretty outrageous patterns."

Muldoon wondered, "Why colors?"

Rod shrugged. "Why not? If you're going to have to have patches anyway, they might as well be decorative."

Muldoon cracked a smile. "When you look at it that way, I suppose it makes sense. On with the tour."

She moved back toward Rod's bunk, and slapped the wall of rectangles. "Here's the accumulators, and… What the hell is that?" She stood rigid, staring at the corner.

"Oh, that's just Fess." Rod felt very sheepish. "He's my robot."

"You have your own robot?"

"Well, uh, I'd be lost without him, you know." Rod swallowed. "He's an heirloom, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't." Muldoon was still staring.

Rod gulped. "Sorry about the surprise. I should have told you, sir."

"Yeah, you sure should have." Muldoon shook her head. "But I'll try to get used to it."

Rod almost went limp with relief. "Thanks. I mean, a lot, sir. Fess, come over here and say hello to my new boss."

The sculpture moved, turned its head, and drifted over to them with fluid grace. "Hello, madam. I am the old family robot." He held out his hand.

Muldoon accepted it gingerly, studying the joints and the structure. "Delighted. Solenoids, huh?"

"In the hands, yes, for better feedback in applying pressure. Most of my other joints are servomotors, though."

Muldoon nodded. "Good design. You'll have to take orders from me, too, you know."

Fess hesitated, and Rod said quickly, "Anything she says, Fess. Subject to your programmed restraints, of course."

"Oh, don't worry! I won't tell him to kill anyone."

"Certainly, Rod." Fess bowed to Muldoon. "It will be a pleasure to serve you, mem-sahib."

Muldoon actually blushed, but all she said was, "Does he always talk like that? The titles, I mean?"

"I'm afraid so," Rod sighed. "That's an heirloom, too. I cured him of it when he talks to me, but I forgot to tell him to hold off with other people."

"Don't bother." Muldoon gri

She turned away, heading back toward the workbench. Rod ventured. "You seem to know a bit about robots, sir."

Muldoon shrugged. "A machine's a machine. If it moves and has bolts, I can talk to it."

"Yeah, that's what I was wondering about. A robot's part mechanics, but it's mostly computer."

"And can I write a program?" Muldoon gave him a condescending smile. "An engineer these days has to know all the parts of a system, swabbie—including each type of subsystem. To be a specialist, you have to be a generalist."

Rod stood still, looking off into space. "You know, that's a very good way of putting it.''

Muldoon said, "My first professor in college told us that. It stuck with me all the way through."

Rod focused on her again. "That's where you learned your engineering, then?"

Muldoon snorted. "The ideas and facts, or what to do with the wrench and the keyboard?"

"Both."

"I learned the book-knowledge in college, swabbie—but I learned how to do the job right here."

"You've got a bachelor's?"

"Only the degree."

"But if you've got those kind of qualifications, what're you doing aboard a little freighter like this?"

"Don't knock the Murray Rain," Muldoon snapped, "she's a good ship! And we all have to start someplace. I had your job, five years ago. Now I'm chief."

Which hadn't meant anything, Rod noted, until he had signed on. "But you could have moved on to a bigger ship."

A strange expression crossed Muldoon's face. "It's good enough here."

Rod glanced at her eyes, glanced away, and kept silent. For the first time, he began to understand what it meant to be adult, but insecure.

A chime rang; Muldoon looked up. "Chow time. Excuse me a second." She ducked into a closet and closed the door.

Rod suppressed a sudden urge to call out to Fess. If he'd been near the robot, he would have had a quick discussion of the day's events—but he couldn't bring himself to do it by yelling. Also, he'd been awake twenty hours now, and was begi