"It's one of our own." He was pardonably proud; it had been built on Tanith a year before. "Has an ultrasonic dishwasher underneath, and it does some cooking on top, at the back."
The elderly captain was, if anything, even more impressed than his young charge. He knew what went into it, and he had some conception of the society that would develop things like that.
"I take it you don't use many human servants, with robots like that," he said.
"Not many. We're all low-population planets, and nobody wants to be a servant."
"We have too many people on Marduk, and all of them want soft jobs as nobles' servants," the captain said. "Those that want any kind of jobs."
"You need all your people for fighting men, don't you?" the boy count asked.
"Well, we need a good many. The smallest of our ships will carry five hundred men; most of them around eight hundred."
The captain lifted an eyebrow. The complement of the Victrix had been three hundred, and she'd been a big ship. Then he nodded.
"Of course. Most of them are ground-fighters."
That started Count Steven off. Questions, about battles and raids and booty and the planets Trask had seen.