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“I can answer that,” said Lobot, who had suddenly busied himself with collecting the parts of his contact suit and climbing back into them. “Just before it ceased transmitting, the sensors measured a monopolar ion density of more than twenty thousand Rahm units. It is a near certainty that the limpet is damaged beyond repair.”

“Twenty thousand? Better than I thought. I’d have given you odds that it wouldn’t take more than twelve,” Lando said. “Well, no matter.”

“The primary component of all spectral sensors is Favervil dielectric ribbon,” Lobot said. “Dielectric ribbon begins to debond under ion bombardment at a density of fifteen thousand Rahms.”

“Is that so,” Lando said.

“Master Lando, why didn’t the vagabond’s shields stop the ion barrage?” Threepio asked.

“Now, that’s an interesting question,” said Lando. “The answer might be because there are no shields—no ray shields, anyway.”

“No shields?” Threepio echoed. “Isn’t that unusual—and dangerous?”

“It’s unusual—” Lando began.

Lobot interrupted with another encyclopedic answer. “Since the inception of spacecraft licensing under the Registry Office, noncombatant vessels have been required to carry ray shielding generators of at least grade two strength, to protect the crew and passengers from cosmic radiation and stellar flares. More than ninety-six percent of alien ship types in the Registrar’s Catalog are known to carry both ray and particle shielding in some form.”

Lando looked curiously at his old partner. Before he could give voice to his thoughts, however, Threepio filled the silence with a burst of indignant words.

“Master Lando, this is intolerable. I am certain that Master Luke did not intend for us to be marooned on a vessel with no ray shielding. No wonder my circuits are so sluggish and Artoo has been so peevish. This could have the most serious consequences for us. We simply must leave this vessel now.”

“That’s it,” Lando said, snapping his fingers. “That’s the reason there’s no ray shielding outside. There are no droids, no computers, no electronic devices of any kind on the hull—just organic machines, with organic sensors, and organic repair mechanisms. Different rules. We didn’t know because that’s the first time we’ve actually seen the vagabond under fire. Boldheart only fired across her bow. Pakkpekatt’s task force never fired on her at all. What do you think, Lobot?”

“The issues for biological systems exposed to radiation are rate of damage versus the efficiency of repair, and heat absorption per unit of area versus heat dispersal per unit of area,” Lobot said in a flat voice. “The integumentary system of some organisms can provide effective protection for internal structures against charged-particle radiation, and significant protection against the J and C ranges of photonic radiation.”

Lando was staring with open concern. “Lobot, what is wrong with you?”

“Was there an error in my summation?”

“I’m not talking about your summation—I’m talking about you,” Lando said. “Don’t take this wrong, old pal, but your conversational style’s regressed back to Early Mechanical. You’ve started nattering like an overeager knowbot. But I can’t find you anymore—just a wall of data.”

Lobot plucked a drifting glove out of midair, avoiding Lando’s eyes. “It is possible that I am retreating to the certain and the familiar as a means of reassurance, or in an attempt to enhance my sense of control over my circumstances.”

“What kind of answer is that? You sound like a droid running a self-diagnostic,” Lando said. “I get the feeling that if your links were up, you wouldn’t be talking at all. Come on, partner—what’s cracking your glue?”

After a few moments, Lobot stopped fussing with his suit. “I confess I am having difficulty maintaining a positive outlook,” he said, his eyes still downcast. “Perhaps you could share with me some of the reasons for your apparent optimism.”

“Didn’t you feel her wheel around before we jumped into hyperspace? We escaped from the Prakith, and we’re