“Well now,” Leoh changed the subject, “what do you know about psychonics?”
“About what, sir?”
“Er … electroencephalography?”
Hector looked blank.
“Psychology, perhaps?” Leoh suggested hopefully. “Physiology? Computer molectronics?”
“I’m pretty good at mathematics!”
“Yes, I know. Did you, by any chance, receive any training in diplomatic affairs?”
“At the Star Watch Academy? No, sir.”
Leoh ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Then why did the Star Watch select you for this job? I must confess, Lieutenant, that I can’t understand the workings of a military organization.”
Hector shook his head ruefully. “Neither do I, sir.”
The next week was an enervatingly slow one for Leoh, evenly divided between a tedious checking of each omponent of the dueling machine, and shameless ruses to keep Hector as far away from the machine as possible.
The Star Watchman certainly wanted to help, and he actually was little short of brilliant in handling intricate mathematics completely in his head. But he was also, Leoh found, a clumsy, chattering, whistling, scatterbrained, inexperienced bundle of noise and nerves. It was impossible to do constructive work with him nearby.
Perhaps you’re judging him too harshly, Leoh warned himself. You might be letting your frustrations with the machine get the better of your sense of balance.
The professor was sitting in the office that the Acquatainians had given him in one end of the former lecture hall that now held the dueling machine. Leoh could see its impassive metal hulk through the open office door. The room he was sitting in had been one of a suite of offices used by the permanent staff of the machineBut they had moved out of the building completely, in deference (or was it jealousy) to Leoh, and me Acquatainian government had turned the cubbyhole offices into living quarters for Leoh and the Star Watchman.