Newlyweds

Margery knew that marrying a robot was bound to create a few problems in a small community like Angeles Colony, and she grudgingly put up with the repercussions for six months. Then one aggravating hot afternoon she was changing out a baffle on an excavator when a wrench jockey by the name of Apulia Holmes opened his big mouth once too often. Something about her robot love toy getting greasy down there in the work pit with her. Margery snapped and things got crazy real fast.

Unsurprisingly, she lost the fight. Holmes had twenty kilos on her and the half-minute she lasted was a miracle. Her faster-than-a-cheetah strategy worked right up until the part where his rock fist connected with her face. The doctor who fixed her up explained that she would be fine but there might be a permanent bump on her nose. She had gone from being a slightly overweight woman with wiry red tentacles for hair to officially ugly. Great.

XYZ was oblivious to her condition when she got home. Margery had this huge blob of gauze and tape plastered to the middle of her face and he sat there in his chair and casually asked about her day. She planted herself in front of the vid screen and demanded, "How do you think my day went?"

"What is that you're wearing?"

"What?" She could not believe he didn't know it was a bandage.

"Is it some type of beauty treatment?"

"No."

"Because I want you to know you look wholly adequate to me."

"That's your idea of a compliment, isn't it?"

He did that smile thing which consisted of tightening his chin into a knot. XYZ was made of metalized polymer which was flexible, but he had almost no facial muscles. The robot's version of a smile made him look like a young Churchill wearing silver face paint. "It is only an accurate depiction of my empirical impression. I am merely extolling-"

"Yeah, yeah." She tromped to the kitchen. Talking to XYZ was like talking to a computer with no off-button.

"If you would allow me to finish, I would like to offer you an encomium regarding your very appealing nose cozy. May I ask where one would acquire such a strikingly attractive accessory?"

She grabbed a beer from the cooler and sat in the kitchen. Away from the noise.

He prattled on while she tried to figure out some way to tell him that she'd lost her job with Reeves Mechanical Maintenance. The fight had drawn a crowd, a report was filed, and old Mr. Reeves, who never said three words in a row, sputtered about twenty, the last two being, "You're fired!" The discharge would blackball her on a small planet like Mélange. She wouldn't be able to get work anywhere else.

Getting fired put her in a peculiar situation with XYZ since their marriage was a convenience to obtain an apartment. Housing was scarce on Mélange and private domiciles were reserved for families. The marriage had been an inspired bit of chicanery. But now that she was leaving the planet what should they do? Divorce? It seemed like the right move.

She sipped her beer and watched him doing his nightly isometrics. It would be a relief to get away from his big brain and that remarkable tendency for non sequiturs of his. But she might miss things about him too. You take away all the periphrasis and he was like a child in some ways. A very talkative child.

Had she grown too attached? That didn't seem possible. Margery was hell on relationships and she never got attached to anyone. It was just crazy even thinking like that.

There was no help for things no matter how she felt. She would have to get a job on a starship heading out to the Blue Twins or some other frontier outpost. A divorce only made sense. She told XYZ they needed to talk.

XYZ yawned and stretched. "What's that? I'm sorry. I believe I may have dozed off."

She giggled silently. Robots did not get tired and they never slept. And she was pretty sure they never really yawned. It was part of his absurd effort to make her feel more comfortable. Cute.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," she said. "I lost my job. I'll have to leave Mélange."

"I have my job at administration. We'll be fine until you find something else."

"You don't understand. There was a big blow out at work. It'll be a scandal. I won't be able to get another job here. Sorry."

"This is distressing information. I hope you're not upset."

She lofted her lager. "Getting better."

"Where will we go?"

"Not we. Me. You don't have to go anywhere."

"I think I do." He came into the kitchen. "After all, you are my wife."

"I was thinking divorce. We came into this thing knowing it would end up like this."

He got two beers and sat down. Another of his human artifices. They drank silently awhile. He asked where she would go.

"I don't know. Get a berth on a trader vessel as a mech."

He was dubious. "Most of that work is done by robots. Maintaining human personnel over a long starship voyage is expensive."

"I'm a pretty good wrench jockey. I'll get something."

"I think you should reconsider. My wages are sufficient to support a family comfortably. We can obtain male genetic material and initiate gestation in you. You will have a child and we will raise it. Comfortably living on my sufficient wages."

She gave him a look. "Why would we possibly want to do that?"

"I'm only doing my best to keep this family together. I am aware that as a female your urge to procreate is strong. This is a tremendous opportunity for you. You can fulfill your physical desire to give birth without having to submit to the sordid experience of coitus."

"Ah, there's a rumor going around that human females enjoy sex."

"This is only unsubstantiated gossip, I assure you."

"Right." She really would miss this goofy robot.

"So, you will stay here and we will raise a family together. I remind you that this is an implied stipulation of our marriage contract."

"No, XZY. I have no desire, physical or otherwise, to raise children. We are getting a divorce and I'm leaving. Get used to it."

"I am aghast at your apathy. Why are you so ready to give up on this marriage?"

"It's always been a marriage of convenience. You know that."

He gave her his version of a frown. Pretty much like the smile. "I find it very convenient. And I have become accustomed to this arrangement. I am going to refuse your offer of dissolution."

Her voice got whiney. "Come on. What is this?"

"This is your husband fulfilling his commitment. I will not abandon you in your time of need."

"I need a divorce!"

"I believe you are depressed over losing your job and this has affected your mental processes. It does not appear that you are capable of making a rational decision. It's fortunate that I'm here to help you. A divorce is the last thing you need right now."

"Whatever you say, I'm still going."

"As your husband I will be accompanying you."

"When we started this, what did I say? We get married and share an apartment. No kinky stuff and we split expenses. That's what we agreed on. There was nothing about anybody accompanying anyone."

"Did I pay my share of expenses?"

"Yes."

"Was I kinky in any way?"

"You don't even know what that means, do you?"

"Was I kinky?!"

"No, X. You weren't kinky."

"Then I believe I have satisfied every precept of our agreement. Therefore there is no valid reason to breach contract."

"Look, I'm hopping a starship off-planet. What are you going to do?"

"I will obtain employment on the same vessel. As well as office experience I can operate several beverage dispensers. My skills are innumerable. With my background I should have no trouble arranging a suitable position."

"You're really going to follow me?" She decided that maybe she liked the idea. Someday in the future he'd come to his senses and they'd get that divorce. But there was no real hurry. If he wanted to come with her, that was fine.

"We will travel together and offer our services conjointly. Thus you will be assured of gaining employment."

"You're free to come along, but I don't know if there are very many jobs in space for soda dispensers."

"I can functionally perform with soda, milk, and juice dispensers. As well as other, less glamorous, equipment. My skills are innumerable. After evaluating my resume, they may very well place me in a supervisory position. Perhaps you will be my subordinate. That would work out quite nicely, don't you think?"

"Sure, boss. I don't know if you'll like it in space though. A starship is cramped."

"I have traveled in space on several occasions."

She knew his history. The first week of cohabitation XYZ regaled her with a biography from the moment he woke up in the factory. His first fifty years had been spent as a clerk with a terraforming outfit called Creation Corporation, eventually buying his emancipation from the pittance they paid him. But lolly-gagging around in a trillion dollar megalith that could leap across the galaxy was not the type of space traveling they would be doing. "It won't be like that. We'll be on some leaky century-old starship. These captains jam cargo everywhere on the ship and there's no place to move around. It's not much fun. That's why I took the job here on Mélange."

"We will brave our travails together."

"You're not going to like it, XYZ. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I am forewarned."

It took them a day to pack and get up to the space station orbiting Mélange. The planet was adjacent to a major transport corridor in space and the facility overflowed with travelers. A hundred starships were docked or tethered to the satellite.

Margery tried a slot in the wall called One Pink Universe first. XYZ hissed his irritation as they entered the grungy lounge, "What is this place? Margery, I do not recommend we patronize this indecorous establishment."

"This is where you go to get a job on a ship."

"Here?"

"Come on." She led them to a table filled with spacers.

A man wearing a red fez leered and said, "You come right over here, darling. Big Jack ain't had no company for too long."

A skinny one jeered from the corner, "You lose your nose in a knife fight, sister?"

"She had plastic surgery," said another with spiky black hair. He leaned back to look her over. "Should have had the doc trim a little off that caboose maybe." Everyone at the table laughed.

XYZ was confused by their banter. "What are they speaking about?"

She pointed to her bandage. "This is not a nose doily. It's to protect it while it heals."

"You injured your nose?"

"Yes."

"However did you do that?"

"I'll tell you later." She slapped a wandering hand away from her too-large caboose and gave the yahoo a glare. Pointing to the only one there who wasn't dressed in greasy overalls or work clothes, she asked him, "You have a ship?"

"What?" Brushing a hand over his bald spot, the man wearing the gray uniform jacket stared with confusion. "No. Navigator." He was drunk.

"You don't want him. You want Big Jack! Come over here, darling."

"I will thank you to refrain from addressing my wife in that deplorable fashion."

The table went silent. They looked at her and they looked at XYZ. Finally spiky hair demanded, "You're married to this tin can?"

The table erupted with catcalls and insults. She got mad and called them all idiots. They were run out of the place. Outside, Margery told XYZ, "Don't do that again."

"What? Insist that you be treated with respect?"

"Don't let on that we're married. People are bigoted about mixed relationships. Let's just not tell anyone. You'll only get us into more trouble."

"You want to conceal our relationship entirely?"

"Yes."

"Then how are we to present ourselves? Are you my owner? Can you possibly be suggesting that we partake in a clandestine ruse which would identify me as your property?"

"Sounds good." She began walking.

"I am an emancipated robot. To subject myself to such denigration is unacceptable. I reject your proposal."

She stopped in front of the Starstruck. "Look, you're emancipated, right. Just don't tell anybody we are robot and wife. You saw what happened in that other place."

"I apologize for any difficulty I may have caused. Perhaps I should allow you to perform the task of procuring employment for us alone."

"You're coming along. The way things are going I might get into a fight in one of these places. I may need backup." She started into the dark bar.

"What does doing backup mean? Should trouble arise I will be the one to contact the authorities forthwith?"

"Right."

The Starstruck had no customers. An old timer in back and a couple of party gals hugging the bar. The fellow in the puffy turquoise shirt who ran the place took one look at XYZ and ordered, "Leave your bot outside." There was nobody in there anyway so they just left.

Their next stop was a no-name hole that smelled like moldy fruit. They asked around if anyone was hiring spacers. An old timer whose prosthetic hand whirred greeted them with enthusiasm. "I am looking for crew. You look like just the two dynamos I could use. Captain Jonathon Hanks. I ship metal goods out to the Twins and all points this side, and handcrafts back to Yempras Mu." His white caterpillar eyebrows shifted upward. "Yempras Mu? Why, just the prettiest little world you ever saw."

"When do you leave?" Margery asked.

Hanks offered a crooked smile. "Just as soon as we get the ship fueled up."

"It's quite fortuitous that we've met, Captain Hanks," XYZ said.

There was something wrong about Hanks' expression but Margery wasn't sure what it meant. Was he kidding about hiring them? Something weird was going on. "You pay scale?"

"I can do much better than that. You see, I like to give the crew a percentage of profits. You'll make much more that way." Hanks winked.

"This sounds like a tremendous opportunity for us, Margery."

"It sure is!"

Her voice chilled. "What happened to your crew?" If this was such a good deal why had they quit Hanks?

"My crew? Why, they're around. Right here on the station." Hanks gestured to a man at another table. "Say hello to Gary." The bearded man lofted a wave.

"All right. We're in. What time do you think you'll be fueled and ready?" Margery would give Hanks a try. If the money didn't work out they'd find something else.

"Well. You see-" Hanks exchanged a nervous look with Gary. "There is a slight problem."

"What?"

"My financial situation is not good right now."

"You're broke?"

"A run of bad luck is all. A temporary setback. Now, if you were able to invest just a small amount-"

"Come on, XYZ."

"But, Margery."

"X, this guy doesn't even have money for fuel."

She had to drag the robot away. XYZ was convinced that if they helped Hanks out it would be well worth their while in the long run. She refused to discuss it. They went to the bar where she simply shook her head every time he brought it up again.

"Margery, I don't see why we can't simply enquire how much-"

"Will you stop? We are not getting mixed up with that loser." She gave him a serious frowning.

"Your reticence is completely unwarranted, in my opinion."

A woman standing nearby dressed in a wild purple and red outfit cut in, "Saw you talking to Captain Hanks over there. I'd steer clear if I was you."

"You know him?" Margery asked.

"He lost his wad in a poker game. Now he's busted and in hock to the station for docking fees."

XYZ said, "It is only a temporary setback. That's what the good captain told us."

"He's been here two months!"

The women shared a laugh and Margery said, "Leave it alone, XYZ." She asked the woman, "You know of anybody hiring?"

"You might try The Black Hole. Other side of the station."

"Thanks."

They spent another hour futilely combing the watering holes on Mélange Space Station. There weren't too many ship captains hiring and nobody wanted to take on the both of them. Margery steered them into a casino. "I'm tired and my feet hurt. Let's go in here and have some fun."

"Gambling?" XYZ hung back.

"Come on."

"I'm not sure if I should. After all, with my superior mental acuity I'll have a distinct advantage."

"Everybody thinks they can beat the house. Come on."

"Every human has an inflated sense of prowess perhaps, which I believe is called ego. But I, with my fully integrated cerebral net operating at more than six tetracycles per second, have every reason to believe I will win."

"Good luck."

They found a Super 21 table and XYZ proceeded to display his superiority. At losing. While Margery could do no wrong. She tripled and won so many times it was ridiculous. But for XYZ the cards could not have been worse. He became convinced they were being cheated.

"That makes no sense," she said, displaying a hand full of blue chips. "I'm up two hundred."

"But I have lost forty-five dollars."

"See?"

"Margery, it is mathematically impossible for me to lose. They are cheating me and allowing you to win to conceal their deception. They are attempting to convince us they are not cheating at all."

"It's working."

An older woman sitting next to Margery said, "I'm satisfied." She too had been winning. She offered a hand and they shook. "Helena. Your robot is charming."

"Margery. And the unhappy robot to my right is X34Y8Z. Or XYZ for short."

XYZ nodded to Helena. "Unhappiness is a human trait which robots do not experience. I am justifiably outraged by the duplicitous conduct of this establishment." He hissed in Margery's ear, "You know they are cheating."

The women smiled. Helena said, "I'm on the Cosmo Tour from Trent. What brings you here?"

"We're looking to ship out on a freighter."

"We're spacers," XYZ said. "And we know when we're being cheated."

"Sir, please." The dealer had reached the limit of her patience. "You are not being cheated. Please stop saying that."

"It's rude," Margery said.

XYZ glared at the dealer. "Where is the manager's office?"

"X, quit now." Margery started to laugh. "I'm sorry. It's his first time playing." She pulled him up from the table. "I think you need a break."

He apologized quietly, explaining, "It's all these lights. There is a sensory disruption that is really quite annoying. I cannot concentrate properly. I'll stroll about and get my bearings."

"Why don't you try the slots?"

"I will." He leaned over the table and said to the dealer, "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I suspect you weren't cheating at all."

"Thank you," the dealer said dryly.

"Nice meeting you, XYZ," Helena said.

"I enjoyed making your acquaintance. I'll be over there."

"Stay out of trouble," Margery said.

"Of course."

The two women played cards some more, their luck still good. Helena asked, "You're spacers?"

Margery had eights and the dealer had a seven. She split the triple and won all three hands. "I used to be. He's a wannabe."

"What's your area of expertise?"

"Mechanic. I was in the sky for about five years before I came to Mélange."

"Can you do repair work?"

"I can rebuild a gravity motor. Realign engine shafts. Pretty much whatever needs doing on a starship."

"What about something like a gyroscopic stabilizer unit?"

"Sure. I'm pretty good with gyros."

"I hope you don't mind me asking."

"Not at all."

"You see, I have a particular reason for enquiring."

"I get that."

"You see, I may know of a job. For you."

"On a ship?"

"Yes, but not in flight. May I suggest we retire to the lounge and discuss it. My luck's beginning to change anyway."

On a ship but not in flight. Now what could that mean? Intrigued, Margery scooped up her chips. "Lead on."

Over drinks, Helena explained the situation. "My brother Bernard is working hard to get his jetship ready for the Centari 100. He's on Hephaestus II. Most of his people left for the uranium rush on Hephaestus IV."

"Heard about that." Rock miners were becoming billionaires overnight. It was a poisonous planet that killed many who went there.

"He's in need for someone with your expertise."

"This Centari 100, that's the race through the Barren Zone?"

"It's starting in two weeks."

"They go into the Great Asteroid Field?"

"That's one part, yes."

"No offense, but your brother is nuts. Flying through those asteroids is just crazy."

"Yes, it is dangerous. Bernie's an experienced fighter pilot. Retired Spaceforce."

"I don't care how many missions he's flown. We're talking the GAF here. A cubic parsec of flying rocks and magnetic flux. Uncharted gravity wells, trans-dimensional wormholes that can swallow a starship, that place is hell in space."

Helena toyed with her drink. "I know what it's like. And yes, I worry about Bernard. But he is very headstrong."

"Look, I'm headstrong. He is way off the scale."

"You don't know my brother. He enjoys challenges. Are you familiar with Sol System?"

"Actually, I was born on Earth."

"He climbed Olympus Mons."

The extinct Martian volcano was the tallest mountain in Sol System. Killer tornados scraped climbers off the slopes like bugs. "Really?"

"He also visited the Caliente Ruins last year. I was a nervous wreck."

Margery let out a low whistle. The ruins were all that was left of an extinct aquatic species on a far flung planet called Caliente Prima. They were right in the middle of an underwater lava field.

"It seems as though I've spent my whole life worrying about my brother. While he was in the service Bernard risked his life on far too many occasions. His squadron-" Staring into her drink, Helena sighed. "I'm sorry, but I met some of those men. The 37th from New Meridian. They did their duty." She gulped the whiskey down.

Margery's eyes widened at the mention of New Meridian. She didn't know much about the military but the Flying Aces were from there. "You last name is Coulter?" Colonel Bernie Coulter and his Flying Aces were a legendary fighter group. The vanguard of Spaceforce through two wars.

"You know who he is."

She raised her glass. "Your brother's a hero."

"To the 37th."

"And now he's flying the Centari. You know, I wouldn't be interested, not normally, just for two weeks; I was hoping to ship out on some freighter. What I'm trying to say is: if your brother could use us we'd be happy to help. By the way, XYZ is a free robot."

"Really."

"You're surprised."

"On Earth and more settled planets of course there are emancipated robots. But out here? Yes, I am a bit surprised."

"He's one of a kind."

"You're together; how did that come about?"

"We're sort of a team."

"That sounds enigmatic."

"Oh yes."

"He's a mechanic also?"

"Don't worry, he has innumerable skills. I'll make him my assistant." This was going to be hilarious.

"I'm sure that Bernard will be delighted to have the both of you."

"I can't believe I'm going to meet Colonel Bernie Coulter."

Helena was amused by her statement. "He's no different than anyone else. A bit grumpier than most when he is unhappy. Right now he is very displeased with the reprobates who abandoned him in search of uranium. You will change that, I trust. That stabilizer-it's necessary and he doesn't believe he can fix it in time himself."

"Have to have a gyro." Margery loved working on gyroscopes. Suddenly she was in a great mood. Go fix Coulter's gyro and watch the start of the Centari 100. Maybe the colonel could hook them up with a job on another ship. The man was a war hero, he had to have all kinds of buddies in space.

She was also pleased that XYZ would be going along. More than she cared to admit. It was the stupidest thing. She thought about revealing the details of their relationship to Helena and asking her opinion, but Margery had impressed upon XYZ the importance of keeping the marriage a secret. It would be best to remain discreet.

An announcement came over the casino loudspeaker system. "Mrs. Z, please report to the information desk. Please, Mrs. Z report to the information desk at the front of the casino."

Margery offered a weak grin.

Helena's eyes twinkled with amusement. "You didn't tell me XYZ is married."

"Yes. He is."

Helena rose up and looked about the casino. "Why, I should like to meet her. Could you point her out for me?"

"It's a long story."

"I see."

"We're supposed to be keeping it secret. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should go see. What my dear husband wants."

A uniformed security guard approached. "Excuse me. Are you-?"

She raised a hand. "I'm Mrs. Z!" Helena laughed.

The man spoke into a palm radio. "Yes, she's here."

A few minutes later XYZ was there. He said hello to Helena and asked if he could speak to his wife in private.

Margery complained, "I thought we were keeping that secret."

"When one's spouse disappears in an unfamiliar location the time for subterfuge is past. I thought it necessary to apprise the authorities of the truth in order to impress upon them the importance of the emergency."

"What emergency?"

"Where were you?"

"Here."

He sat in the booth beside her, saying quietly, "I was not aware of that."

"It's okay. Helena thinks we make a cute couple."

"Really!"

"Relax, I didn't tell her about the divorce."

"I believe we decided against that. Margery, I am certain that we did."

"For now."

XYZ refused to respond.

Margery quickly told Helena the whole story about their marriage and how they'd ended up on the station. "So we're together," she finished. "For now, anyway."

"I do think you make a cute couple."

"Thank you." XYZ beamed. "You see, Margery?"

"Don't encourage him." Margery ordered a round of drinks with a beer for XYZ.

"You drink alcohol?" Helena said.

XYZ became very serious. "Yes, but two is my limit. After that I am not responsible for my behavior."

Helena looked to Margery who rolled her eyes. No, robots did not feel the effects of alcohol. It was part of XYZ's effort to adopt a human personality.

Helena said, "I was just telling Margery that my brother Bernard needs help getting his starship the Charm ready for the Centari 100."

"We're going to Hephaestus. You ready to go to work?"

Delighted, XYZ gave Margery's arm a gentle squeeze. "This is wonderful information. As I'm sure Margery has told you, we are spacers of the highest caliber. She has a wealth of experience and I, with my fully integrated cerebral net, will undoubtedly have no difficulty."

"Originally, Bernard was going to bring the Charm here and take me for a test flight. But that became impossible when he fell behind schedule. With my tour I can't take the time out to visit him, unfortunately. You two may easily catch a quick-flight and get there in less than a standard day. I will arrange it."

"Sounds fine," Margery said. "But shouldn't we call him or something first?"

"The messaging equipment here is out of date and there is a time lag of over four hours. I'll send a message. But rest assured, you will be more than welcome."

"We're ready to go anytime."

"As spacers we have to be ready for a rapid departure," XYZ said.

"Part of our credo," added Margery, concealing a smile.

"Always be prepared. There is a concierge desk in the vestibule of this casino. I am going without delay to ascertain precisely when the next turbo flight to Hephaestus departs." The robot popped up to his feet. "I trust you will be here when I return."

Margery urged, "Relax. Finish your drink."

XYZ chugged his beer in seconds. "I will return expediently." He started away then stopped. "I trust you will be here when I return?"

"Sure, X. Right here."

He hurried off.

"How long have you two been married?"

Margery made a face. "Don't say it like that. Seven months."

"I don't know. He certainly seems devoted."

"Will you stop? The only reason we didn't divorce was that this happened so abruptly. Our leaving Mélange."

"Yes, I'm sure that's the only reason."

Margery grumbled a bit, fidgeted, and asked, "What am I supposed to do? You know he quit his job to come with me? This whole thing is just crazy."

"Sounds as though you're stuck."

"Stuck. That's a good word for it."

"I have to ask you. This fight at your job. You started to explain how that happened. I got the distinct impression you don't want XYZ to know." Helena covered her own face. "And how bad is it under there?"

"Pretty bad. And there wasn't really much to it. Some idiot gave me the red ass for the millionth time about me and XYZ, and I just lost it. And honestly? It's a relief to get off that rock. I mean, I knew I'd get grief for marrying a robot, but these people just never let up." It irritated her to talk about it. Who knew there were so many xenophobes?

"Well, you are gone from there. And I do believe you and XYZ may have quite an adventure in store for you."

"You mean this job with your brother?"

"That's just the start. I have a feeling about you two."

"We are going to get divorced."

"You may. But there is something very special about the two of you together."

"He doesn't know anybody else. He worked for years around other robots." It was hard for Margery to explain. "I may be his first human friend. He's a bit obsessed right now."

"No, I don't think that's it. There's a spark. Maybe you can't see it. I think destiny has something important in store for the both of you. And I am a bit psychic, my dear. "

"I think you have your psychic antennae on all wrong. About me anyway." Margery was a shiftless no-account wrench jockey. Not the type who was destined for much of anything. "Look, I am a good mechanic. Better than good actually. But there's not much more to me. Here's a laugh: that robot is twice the human being I am."

"And that's why you need XYZ."

She slammed the rest of her drink. "I don't know if I like talking to you anymore, Helena."

"You know-" Helena straightened the ruffled cuff of her sleeve, a look of mischief in her eyes. "You might consider joining Bernard in the race. My, wouldn't that be an adventure."

"All right, I have decided. We are done talking."

"There is a ten million dollar prize."

"Not talking." Margery was watching the casino past the knee wall encompassing the lounge. She noticed a suspiciously familiar silver and gray figure seated in one of the rows of slot machines. XYZ played three machines at once.

Helena followed her gaze. "He seems to be winning."

XZY was only ten meters away, so Margery called to him. Inexplicably, she knew he heard though he gave no indication of it. She grinned. "Oh, Mr. Zee-eeeeee."

"Margery, I am searching for the concierge who is absent from his post." He continued to feed tokens into all three machines without missing a beat. "He is a medium man with no facial hair and he is quite possibly wearing black shoes." The slots' wheels spun constantly; whenever a bell rang XYZ scooped up the winnings. "Have you seen him?"

"No. Looks like you're doing okay over there."

"I apologize but I cannot discuss it at the present time."

She sort of giggled. Helena said, "Do you play slots?" and Margery gave her a why-not shrug and they went over.

XYZ was indeed winning. The bins below the machines he played overflowed with red tokens. Margery scooped up a handful and passed some to Helena. The robot stiffened, snapping almost soundlessly, "Pilfering the winnings of other patrons is strictly proscribed by the Galaxy Casino." His hands moved in a blur as he continued to play all three slot machines.

"Community property, XYZ. This may be the reason I married you." Helena's face went wide with humor at Margery's statement.

XYZ said sourly, "If you are in need of money I will accommodate you."

Margery and Helena picked two machines across the aisle and started in. "No, I'm fine."

"Then I need to verify the extent of your larceny in order to retain an accurate record of my activities. Helena, I believe you have eleven, and Margery thirteen one-dollar tokens. Is this not correct?"

Margery said, "No, ten." She put another token in the machine and spun the rollers. "Oh. No, nine, sorry."

Helena hit quadruple sapphires and bells rang. Five heavy blue tokens fell, their clunks echoing in the empty bin. "I now have fifty-eight dollars!"

"I am referring to the total original amount taken. Twenty-four dollars by my count. I need to ascertain if this is correct." XYZ kept playing without pause during his diatribe. The tokens clinked, his fingers snapped at the buttons, but the bells stopped coming. XYZ was starting to lose and his mountain of tokens began to shrink quickly. "And furthermore, Margery, though perhaps there is no solid foundation for an allegation of theft under these circumstances, I am quite certain that a charge of embezzlement under false pretenses would apply."

"What false pretenses?"

"When you approached, my expectations were that you would exhibit deportment commensurate with civilized behavior."

He was cracking her up with all this. "Oh X, cut it out before I bust a gut over here."

Helena hit quads again, this time it was rubies for a hundred dollar payout. "I can't believe it."

"Is that 232?" XYZ turned around to look. "It is. I intend to play numbers 232, 231, and 233 next. At the risk of seeming territorial I respectfully request that you refrain from further use of these particular machines."

"XYZ, let her alone," Margery said. She was out of tokens so she took some from Helena's bin. Helena flashed a look of rebuke and they laughed.

XYZ was out of tokens a short while later. Helena urged him to come share in the fun, a concept which seemed to confuse the robot. He reluctantly came over, complaining mildly, "I suspect that egalitarian allocation of gains violates the edicts of this casino governing patronage." His voice dropped. "We must be cautious to avoid detection."

Margery said, "No, XYZ. They don't care who spends it. As long as they get all our money before we leave."

"You have that right," Helena agreed. "I can't tell you how much I've put into these things since the tour began. This is the luckiest I've been in who knows how long."

XYZ appropriated tokens from Helena's bin and began to win again. The three of them hit a wild streak simultaneously and the bells and buzzers went crazy. XYZ became apprehensive. "Margery," he said in her ear. "We must desist. We are winning too much. They have limits. You are probably not aware that gambling establishments in this sector are generally maintained by unscrupulous elements. These individuals do not function within the accepted constraints of social custom."

Margery hit a thirty dollar payout and she shared a hug with Helena. XYZ's voice rose in alarm. "Margery!" he hissed. "Are you listening? These people do not appreciate winners. When I was with Creation Corporation I heard many horrible renditions exemplifying the heinous treatment of winners in establishments like this. They will steal your feet, Margery. They will take your feet and laugh while you crawl around looking for them."

"They're not going to take our feet!"

"Maybe not yours, but mine pop right off. I was designed for quick foot replacement; however, there is a definite trade-off. You probably don't know this, but losing a foot in public can be very embarrassing."

"Aw, shoot!" Margery won fifty dollars but she was disappointed, having just missed the thousand dollar payoff. "Four white dwarfs and a black hole."

"That's still good," remarked Helena.

"It is not good," XYZ corrected. "We are winning far too much." His own machine buzzed for several seconds. Disgusted, XYZ stared at the hundred dollar payer, five rockets. Tokens made a chugging sound as they fell into his bin. "You see? That undoubtedly puts us over the foot limit. They will take my feet and I want you to know that I weigh one hundred and three kilograms. I hope you are capable of transporting that amount because you will now be carrying me out of here."

"Shut up about the feet already. Uck, X."

Helena asked, "What's he talking about?" She exchanged her glass with the waiter for a fresh drink. "Because if anyone gets carried out it's going to be me."

"He thinks they're going to take his feet. I wish they'd take his mouth." XYZ began to frown and she patted his arm. "It's a joke."

"Ha."

"XYZ, don't start pouting. You'll lock your jaw again."

"I just don't know how you could say a thing like that, Margery. Frankly, I am aghast, simply aghast."

"Sorry."

"I don't know, Margery. If I was capable of feelings I'd say I was hurt by your hateful idea of what constitutes humor. But I'm not. So just don't worry about that."

Margery hit another jackpot and bells rang.

"And there you go winning again. Are you purposely attempting to provoke me?"

She stopped playing. "XYZ, nobody's going to get mad at us for winning. This whole station is owned by Solarus, not some local syndicate. Would you please: just relax and have a good time."

"Solarus Corporation on Earth? This is more serious than I thought. Solarus is not just a local organization, but a vast enclave capable of nefariousness on a galactic scale. I believe your thoughtless propensity for winning may have put all of us in jeopardy. These people don't like winners and they will stop at nothing to recoup their losses."

"Will you stop? Nobody even knows we're winning."

"They know, Margery. There are cameras everywhere. And why do you think these machines make such a cacophony? That is a signal to the people who monitor the winners. They know we are winners and they know what to do with winners like us."

"Our feet?"

"And quite possibly our thumbs. We have no alternative but to return as much of this as we can. I am sorry ladies, but I am going to have to ask you to begin losing."

"I don't know if I can today," Helena said. "Margery, will you please reason with your friend?"

"XYZ, we can't lose on purpose," Margery said. "It doesn't work that way."

"Frankly, I don't think you want to lose. Well, I refuse to be defeated by good fortune. While it may be true that there is no humanly way possible to predict the vagaries of these machines, I believe there is a robotly way to do so. I will apply my fully integrated cerebral net to the task of constructing an algorithm which will analyze and predict, within a variable of one six thousandth of one percent, the functions and subsequent payouts of the slot machines in these two rows." He blinked. "I now have an infallible method which will enable me to dispose of these winnings."

"You're saying you have a system. A system for losing?"

"If you wish to refer to an elegantly crafted algorithm with more than nine trillion separate permutations as a system, then yes."

"He has a system," Margery said. "For losing!"

"Why don't you think up a system for winning the big jackpot," Helena said.

"That is the last thing we need," XYZ said. "We are already on their radar. They know we are winners. Our only chance is to show them that we can be losers too."

Helena offered him a handful of tokens. "Lose as much as you want. We're just having fun."

XYZ accepted the tokens, thanked Helena, and said to Margery, "She has the attitude of a true loser." He went across the aisle and sat before number 203. Within minutes he was back for more tokens. He said in Margery's ear, "It is working perfectly." Helena's machine rang and he said, "Twenty dollars? I can lose that in four spins. Margery, there is no way she can keep pace with my losing. I think we may make it out of this precarious situation yet." He rushed away.

Margery was starting to lose also. She slowed down and began watching Helena, who was steadily hitting on her machine. "You are pretty darn lucky."

Helena laughed. "Today I am."

"He might lose all your money if you don't-"

"It's all in fun. This all started with what we, ah, borrowed from XYZ."

"You know, it has been a real pleasure, Helena. And thank you for hooking us up with your brother."

"And I certainly enjoyed meeting the both of you."

"I hope we see you again sometime."

"Oh, didn't I tell you? My tour ends in Columbus System. Just in time for the end of the Centari 100. I'll see you at the finish line."

"Just stop," Margery said. "Will you? We are not going along. We will help your brother in getting his ship ready. That is it."

"Certainly, dear. My mistake. I told you I was psychic. I can't help it if that's what I see."

"You are so funny, Helena."

XYZ was starting to get agitated over at his slot machines. "Obviously this machine is malfunctioning also." There were bells and chimes. He saw Margery looking over and complained, "I cannot believe this."

"What happened to your losing system?"

"Are you are referring to my analytical prognostic protocol?"

"Yeah, that." Margery prodded Helena, who started to giggle.

"An accurate extrapolation is impossible under these circumstances. Several of these devices are in disrepair." He hit another jackpot and moaned, "Another one? Margery, we need a repair person immediately. A slot mechanic, I believe they are called."

"Maybe your protocol doesn't work right."

"I consider your specious allegation a personal affront, Margery. I suspect this is yet another attempt at jocularity which has fallen far short of normally accepted parameters. Ha."

"I'm just saying maybe you should check your math."

"Are your audio receptors functioning properly? The machines are broken. We need a slot mechanic."

She fingered the dwindling chips in her bin. "Well, I'm losing now. Try this one."

"233? It is obviously malfunctioning as well. According to my calculations you should be winning. Is there a slot mechanic available? We have several broken machines over here." XYZ hit a jackpot and bells rang. "Slot mechanic, please."

The robot became more and more upset as he continued to win. Then Margery and Helena hit hundred dollar payers simultaneously and he rushed over, crying, "Just another malfunction. Mechanic! We need a slot mechanic over here. That is an obvious breakdown. It's not us! We're losers, not winners."

He played a machine and lost. "You see? That's what we do. We're losers and-" On the second spin his machine landed on three flaming dragons for a ten dollar payout. "Another broken one over here. Where is that mechanic?" He moved on. Another payer, bells clanging. "Not my kind of machine. I'm a loser, not a winner." He went to the next one and won again. Banging on the metal casing, he complained, "What is wrong with these things. I won't play a winner. I came here to lose and that is exactly what I intend to do."

Margery followed him down the line of slot machines. "XYZ, relax. They really don't care how much we win."

"Do you see that man?" He pointed to a waiter. "He has been watching us."

"He's serving drinks."

"That's what he wants you to think. I am convinced that man is monitoring winners." He spun the wheels and lost. "That's what we like to see!"

"XYZ."

"Margery, they have been watching us since we came in this establishment. We have won far too much." Helena won a large payer. XYZ moaned, "I just can't keep up with her."

Margery didn't know how to convince him he was wrong. She was stumped. As she watched him, she dropped a token into a slot machine. And won.

"And there you go again!" XYZ was frantic. Helena's machine rang with another winner. "That's it. They are going to hook us up to electromagnets and twist us into knots. Margery, I believe it is time to consider an alternative solution."

"XYZ, relax."

"Our only chance is to furtively depart before they are aware of what we're doing. I'll go first."

"Would you stop. They're not going to twist us into knots."

Helena won again, with a loud clang from the machine. XYZ snapped, "Margery, they will twist us into knots and use our feet as doorstops."

Suddenly Helena's slot machine let out a whooping noise and a red light began flashing. Bells and buzzers erupted. She had won the thousand dollar jackpot. Margery applauded. Helena started laughing. XYZ shrieked and ran out of the casino.

It took nearly an hour to track the robot down. XYZ was hiding behind a pillar in an atrium in the middle of the station. He now wore a narrow purple cap. When he saw them he hissed, "Where have you been? Are you all right?" He stared at their feet.

Helena handed him a sheaf of blue script. "We decided to split three ways."

"How did you escape?"

Margery said, "We just walked out, XYZ. I told you."

"I am astounded." XYZ deposited the money in his waist pouch. "Thank you."

"Where did you get that hat?" Margery asked.

"It's my disguise. I'm surprised you recognized me."

"Helena messaged her brother and we are signed on the turbo to Hephaestus, which boards in ten minutes."

"This is wonderful information."

"Let's get our gear from the locker and get over there. Dock seventeen?"

"Seventeen," confirmed Helena. "I'll leave you here then. XYZ, it has been a pleasure." She hugged them both. "Tell Bernard I said good luck, Margery."

"Thanks again for everything."

XYZ seemed befuddled by the hug. His experience with physical contact was very minimal. He was subdued. "We certainly enjoyed your company, Helena. We certainly did."

"Goodbye for now."

Margery rushed him through the space station. He kept dragging behind. They had their things and she spotted docking station seventeen. "Come on," she said. "Hurry up, XYZ. What is going on with you."

"I apologize." He quickened his pace. "I experienced an anomalous reaction recently which I am attempting to interpret."

"When Helena hugged you?"

"I have had similar responses before with you. But her action was so abrupt that I was taken completely unawares. My surprise seemed to magnify the unusual response. I don't want to alarm you but I think I may be malfunctioning, Margery."

"You're not malfunctioning. You just made a new friend."

"What could my relationship with Helena possibly have anything to do with my reaction?"

"A hug is an act of friendship. It's symbolic. She hugged you and you liked it because you're friends. You know, for all that super-cybernetic cerebral net of yours, there's a lot you don't understand about some things."

They were now in the boarding line. Margery dumped her suitcase on the conveyer and XYZ placed his only piece of luggage, a small box, beside it. "If you are suggesting that I experienced an emotional response-that is just not possible."

"I don't know." She suppressed a laugh.

They went through the scanners and entered the accordioned walkway which led to the starship. "No, I am positive you must be mistaken," XYZ murmured.

When they were settled in their seats she asked him, "X, why did you want you come with me?"

"I am fulfilling my obligation as your husband."

"Why didn't we just get a divorce?"

"Margery, I am certain we discussed this. The decision was made and I insist you abide by our agreement. There will be no divorce."

"Relax. I'm asking why we came to that decision."

He paused. "Why, the unnecessary expense, the trouble, and complications of this nature. And let us not forget the social stigma. I, for one, do not wish to sully my record with divorce."

"I thought there might be another reason too."

"Of course. It is financially beneficial for two individuals to travel together. We will receive special rates and superior accommodations." His voice rose a notch. "Does this interrogatory relate to your erroneous supposition that I, with my wholly logical cerebral net, might exhibit an emotional reaction? I assure you that this is not the case."

"Whatever you say."

"And don't think I fail to recognize the supercilious intonation in your voice. I may not have emotions, but I have no difficulty identifying the variables of human behavior."

She gripped his arm playfully. He really was endearing sometimes. Why couldn't she meet a flesh and blood guy she liked this much? Half this much.

"And what is that?" He jiggled his arm. "Apparently you find it necessary to display such physical affection because you are the one who has feelings, for me. Quite obviously, your entire theory regarding robots and their alleged emotions is a projection of your own desires. This is a very common response among humans."

"Just can't help myself, being human. So, you going to keep that hat?"

"I suppose there is no longer any reason-"

"Keep it. I like it." The purple hat was cute.

"Well, then. It would be best to retain it. I would not wish you to evince a negative emotional reaction should I discard it, as humans are prone to do."

"Thanks." The lights dimmed and the seat-strap sign blinked in front. "Here we go."

The starship Prometheus was a small vessel built for speed. They left the space station and departed the star system in minutes. The transition to hyperlight went smoothly with only a slight bump. The lights came back on and passengers began to relax.

Each traveler had a view screen which served as an entertainment system. While Margery evaluated her choices-a multitude of videos or the news feeds-XYZ studied their fellow passengers. "That fellow with the double lapels is very likely from Paradise," he said. "There is a Scollarian; what a treat. I've never actually seen an avian before. And I do believe that is a Vicarn in front."

"A Vicarn?" Margery spotted the characteristic gray cloak from which rose a dark spindly head. The Vicarn were not taxonomically classifiable by human standards. A cross between a reptile and a crustacean, was what she'd heard. They had deadly pincers that could cut through steel. In the last war Vicarn forces fought humankind to a standstill, both in space and on the ground. An uneasy peace existed between the two species. She was surprised to see a Vicarn on the ship.

"Yes, up there. And a Kruk, that orange fellow." XYZ lowered his voice. "I suggest we avoid all association with Kruks, Margery. I have been told that they are prone to violent behavior."

She had seen one Kruk demolish a squad of enforcers on Gemstone years ago. They were as tough as rock and stronger than a robot. "I know."

"I count thirty-four humans, five aliens, and one robot. Of course the servitor is a robot but she is not a passenger."

Margery flicked a glance at the servitor. Like many service robots, she was clothed. Short blue skirt and a rather lewd turquoise top. Her figure was lewd too, which made absolutely no sense. What business did a robot have going around looking like that?

"I estimate seventeen humans are from either Polaris or the Neo System. Nine others most likely are Earthian. Those four are rock miners, by the look of their clothing, as well as their demeanor. A transient lot, it is not apparent from whence they come. The two women in front are Catholic nuns, which I'm sure you know. They likely took vespers on Earth or Proxima Centauri b. And that couple from Paradise."

She asked quietly, "What about that Vicarn? Where's he coming from?"

"Perhaps he is a tourist."

"Their space is a year away from here by fast ship, XYZ. What's he doing out here? Tourist? No."

"Are you suspicious about something? You appear apprehensive, Margery."

"We just ended a war with those guys. A lot of people say it's not over yet. We're all just taking a breather."

"And you believe he is here to reinitiate the war?"

"No. A spy or something. It just seems weird, that's all."

"I suggest we inform the authorities forthwith. Oh, Miss. Miss?" He signaled for the robot servitor.

"What? No, XYZ."

"We need to alert-"

"X, relax. Let's just keep an eye on that guy and see if he's up to anything. We can't just accuse him like that. Who knows, he could be in this race Coulter's flying in."

The servitor was there. "And what can I get for you?" she asked XYZ sweetly.

XYZ was flustered. "Well, I-"

"Perhaps a hot oil aperitif?" She winked.

XYZ's voice shot up. "Why, yes. Thank you so much."

"Call me ZZ. I just love your hat."

"Ah, well. I'm XYZ. Thank you."

"Let me get that drink for you."

Irritated by all this nonsense, Margery muttered, "I'll have a-"

"Please, Miss!" The servitor was ice cold. "Wait your turn." She patted XYZ's arm and whispered, "I'll be right back." She hurried away.

Frowning, Margery said, "That's Mrs. I can't believe that flirt."

"Now Margery, she's just trying to be friendly. That's her job."

"She wouldn't even get me a drink! That's not friendly, XYZ."

"Obviously they have a system. After she takes care of me you'll-"

"I'm warning you, you'd better cut it out with that hussy."

"I'm not responsible for her behavior."

"Just stop enjoying it so much. Or you'll be walking out of here without your feet."

"I hardly think-" One look at Margery convinced him to drop the subject.

When the servitor returned, he made it a point to request a drink for his wife. After a moment of silence, she said, "You're married?"

"Why yes. This is my-" XYZ stopped because his drink was now dripping down his face and the servitor rushed away up the aisle. He called after her, "I may need a towel."

Margery dabbed his face with a napkin. "She wasn't so friendly after all."

"No. She was not."

Margery watched the Vicarn for a while and decided that she was being paranoid. Maybe he was a uranium miner; she had no way of knowing. That actually made more sense than a spy being out there on the edge of known space.

Her bandage was starting to loosen up so she decided to go get rid of it. The doctor told her it would come off by itself and she figured it was close enough. It was starting to itch under there. But when she removed it she wished she hadn't.

Her nose was still swollen and puffy. There was a definite bluishness beneath her eyes. She looked less human than the Vicarn. When she returned to her seat, XYZ pretended not to notice. "There you are," he said. "I see you're all healed up." He took hold of her chin and looked her over. "Eyes still green, good. Skin tan and pink, and only tan and pink. Nose perfectly normal. Why, you look just fine."

"Thanks." She knew he was lying through his titanium teeth, but it cheered her up a little.

Midway through the trip they were discussing the upcoming job and a man craned back from the forward seat and asked, "Did I hear you say Colonel Coulter? Excuse me. Andy Sloan. I'll also be racing in the 100."

"We're spacers," XYZ announced. "We'll be working on the colonel's ship, the Charm, getting it ready for the big race."

"Do you know Colonel Coulter? I'm Margery and this is XYZ."

"No, no." Andy's wide face exploded with a smile. "It's been all over the news that he's racing. He is a celebrity."

"That race is just crazy, if you ask me."

"It's quad-annual, and this is my third attempt. I've never finished better than thirty-first place. But, as you say it is a challenge. A dozen ships every race are never heard from again. I feel lucky to have made it through two races."

"Good luck."

"Thank you, Margery."

"We may be also participating in the race," XYZ said. "We haven't decided yet."

She groaned, "Yes, we decided."

"We never even discussed it. Helena said we would be welcome, you know."

"Don't pay any attention," she told Andy. Then to XYZ, "There is no way we are flying into the GAF."

"That decision seems rather autonomous, Margery."

"It's final too." There was no possible way he was talking her into this.

He said very quietly, "Perhaps we should discuss this at another time."

"Cut it out, XYZ," she snapped. "We are not flying in that race."

"I certainly am looking forward to meeting him," Andy said. "Colonel Coulter."

"So are we," she said. "His sister set this up for us."

"Oh."

XYZ said, "Her name is Helena and she told us we could be in the race."

"X."

"Well, she did, Margery."

She told Andy, "I wouldn't normally go for a temp job like this, but when she told me who he was I had to say yes. We'll be looking for something else after we get the Charm ready."

"Assuming we won't be going along," XYZ put in. She gave him a look.

Andy's eyes went huge as he realized what she meant. "Oh, you're hoping I might know of something. A position for you."

"Just thought I'd ask," she said.

"I'm afraid I can't be of much help there. I'm an industrialist. All my holdings are back on Earth. I'm not involved with shipping off-planet. Sorry."

"I understand."

"I wish I could do something. I've really enjoyed meeting you. I would like to help."

"Do you think we make a cute couple?" XYZ asked.

"Well, yes. Of course."

"You see, Margery? Everyone thinks that."

"The stewardess didn't."

"Merely a misunderstanding."

"You know-" Andy waved a finger. "There may be something for you. I have a friend with United Space Lines. When we get to Hephaestus System I'd be happy to make a call."

"Much appreciated," Margery said.

"I'll be staying at the Grand Hostelry in Iona, on Hephaestus II. Call me in a couple of days and we'll see if we can't fix you up."

"Thanks." She hoped he could help them out. She knew that trying to land a job on a ship in the middle of the frontier could be tough.

"Why yes, thank you, Mr. Sloan." XYZ latched onto Margery's hand and gave it a little squeeze. "This certainly is fortunate for us."

"Happy to help."

She asked, "So, the Centari 100 starts where exactly?"

"The Grand Marshall has a base on a planetoid at the edge of the system. It's in a slightly different location each race."

"The race takes a month?"

"Jengi Ri traversed the hundred trillion kilometers in twenty-nine standard days last time out. The second fastest time ever."

"Scollarian?" Jengi Ri definitely sounded like a Scollarian name.

"No, Jengi Ri is human, quite enjoyable company by the way, he was raised on Scollar. His father was with the diplomatic staff from Earth. Johnson is his actual surname I believe, but he goes by Jengi Ri."

"Is he racing?"

"Yes."

Margery hitched up one side of her mouth. "I seriously cannot believe you people actually fly into the GAF."

Jerry chuckled. "Neither can my wife. I had to promise that this is the last time or I wouldn't be here."

XYZ tightened his chin into a stiff knot. "I know exactly what you mean. My wife won't even let me race one time."

Rubbing her eyes, Margery said, "We're married, by the way."

"I suspected as much. What do you know about the race, beyond the perilous jaunt through the Great Asteroid Field?"

"Not much. Most of it is in the Zone, right?"

"Yes, but that's something of a misnomer. The Barren Zone is desolate, yes, for the most part. However, out past a gravity well they call the Rift, there are inhabited worlds. Not much but in the last leg of the race any point of refuge is of inestimable value. I broke down last time. Popped a shaft; my own fault really. I was lucky enough to be near a planet called Muon. They sent out a ship and a repair team fixed me right up."

"What was your overall time?"

"I hoped you wouldn't ask." Andy had a sheepish look. "Forty-nine days, seven hours. Fiftieth place. I let up at the last. That shaft was still a question, you know."

"Hey, you made it." Margery thought that surviving the Centari 100 was an impressive feat.

"I have a new ship. The Chronos. Seven thousand IRI engine with a turbine recharger."

"Seven thousand?" Margery was surprised. "Didn't know they made them that big." An ion engine with that kind of boost could probably go twenty times light speed.

"A new company, Brent Technologies in the Titan industrial complex, built it. You're a mechanic?"

"Third generation. Got grease in my blood." Margery's extended family was full of wrench jockeys.

"Then you can appreciate this. What Tom Brent did was much more than just building a larger engine. He found a way to strengthen the containment chamber where ionization takes place with cryo-technology. The Chronos is just the beginning. They are working on an eight thousand IRI right now."

"Superlative," she said with a smile. There was no real limit to the size of an ion engine if you could control the plasma feedback. Who knew how fast you might be able to fly through space someday?

"I have high hopes this year."

"Best of luck to you, Andy."

"Thank you. The problem for me this year may actually be going too fast. At the speed we'll be traveling my plates will take a beating."

XYZ said, "I'm more of a clerical mechanic. May I inquire: what are these plates you refer to?"

Margery provided, "Going at hyperlight creates what they call quantum friction, XYZ. Particles in space that are in the ship's path deteriorate the safety plating, or plates."

"But pure space is comprised of vacuum."

"Pure being the significant word, XYZ. No such thing as pure space. There are neutrinos and tachyons everywhere. And the buildup of scarcer hadrons is even worse because they're more massive. This isn't really my field. I can rig a shield or change plating but I need a tech to tell me what materials and the thicknesses and so forth."

"Well, I am quite impressed, Margery. Your elucidation is highly illuminating. You are truly a spacer of the highest caliber."

"I concur," Andy said. "If the colonel doesn't have a spot for you, you come find me." He smiled at XYZ. "And of course you two are welcome to come along on the race."

"Did you hear that, Margery?"

She groaned at the both of them and inflated the pillow and went to sleep. It was too bad about that last crack. She was starting to like that Andy for a minute there.

When she awoke, XYZ was snoring. Slouched over with his head on her shoulder, he actually did look like he was sleeping. She knew better. "What time is it?" He had an internal clock and he could never resist answering this particular question.

"Twenty-two point seven hours, standard time. Sixteen point forty-four hours, Centari time." He caught himself and suddenly yawned. "Time? I'm sorry, give me a moment to get my bearings. I must have dozed off there."

"Me too."

"Perfectly normal, I'd say. A wife and husband resting concurrently. I believe it is twenty-two point seven hours, standard time."

"We're due in at twenty-three something."

"Twenty-three point six."

"By the way, you were snoring again."

"Was I? Oh Margery, I apologize."

She loved this game. "I wish you'd go see a tech and get that procedure done."

"Margery, please don't make me go to one of those quarks. I don't even like getting jolts. You know I hate the sight of electrodes."

"I guess I'll have to put up with it then."

"I'll consider it." He patted her hand. "The procedure."

"Thanks, XYZ." She just loved this game. "I hope the colonel is picking us up. I've never been here before."

"There is no facility."

"What?"

XYZ explained, "Hephaestus II has only a docking station. Mr. Sloan was kind enough to inform me of the circumstance."

At the mention of his name, Andy turned around. "I told you, XYZ, call me Andy. No, Margery. There's nothing but a space platform. There will be transport to the planet surface, of course."

"I hope Colonel Coulter is here or left us a message. I don't know where to go."

"There is a small lobby where you can call him."

"Good."

"Very likely his starship will be docked if they're still working on it."

Margery leaned closer and asked Andy, "I wonder if I might take a look at the Chronos sometime? I sure would like to see it."

"Why not do this? All of you, including Colonel Coulter, are invited-this is Monday, so let's make it Thursday evening. Supper at the Grand Hostelry. They have a fine dining room. After which I'll give you a tour of my ship."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. Really."

"What do you say, XYZ?"

"We would be delighted. Although I myself rarely eat human foods; too salty, you know. I assume there will be alcohol served?"

"Yes." Andy knew the robot was espousing a pretense and he suppressed a smile.

"That sounds fine then."

"We'll be there," Margery said.

"Shall we say four o'clock standard."

"Great. How big is Iona?"

The question amused Andy. "Biggest city on Hephaestus II. That's a joke; it is the biggest, but it's tiny. The planet isn't really settled."

"I'm just curious. We'll probably be staying on the Charm while we're here."

"There is one point of interest on planet. The Mulari Fauna Refuge."

"Never heard of it."

XYZ burst out, "The Mulari Refuge is the largest animal preserve in this sector, Margery. They protect endangered species from all over the galaxy."

"How do you know so much?"

"Andy told me."

"Then hush up and let him tell me. This place is like an outdoor zoo? I went to Primate Paradise on Exiss."

"Not really the same thing. Some of the residents in Mulari are too dangerous to let visitors close. Sabertooth dragoni, whipperu, even cave lizards from planet Forest. They have open tours, but only for a limited area," Andy said. "And that's pretty docile. Llama for the kids to ride and a huge array of avian species."

"Llama?" XYZ dipped his head. "Do they allow robots to ride the llamas?"

"We'll be around for a couple of weeks," Margery said. "Maybe we'll take a look. I think you might be too heavy for llama riding, XYZ."

"I was here last year making arrangements for the race. I brought the grandkids and they had a great time. But for adults, the indoor arboretums are the attraction."

"Do you know the weight limit for robots riding llamas, Andy?"

"No, X. He doesn't know the weight limits."

"I'm sure you'll both enjoy the lower Refuge. The arboretums are part of a complex which connects with an underground aquatic exposition."

XYZ looked Andy up and down, asking, "Did you ride the llamas?"

"XYZ, enough about the llamas. It's only for children. Like he said, his grandkids."

"Grand-kids means children? Grandchildren! You took your grandchildren to Mulari Refuge."

"That's right," Andy said.

"Then you must also have children."

"Three girls and one boy. All grown and married."

"Did you hear that, Margery? Andy has four children."

"I heard."

"We don't have any yet, Andy. Margery is eager to start a family, we both are, but we've only been married seven months and five days. Technically we're still newlyweds."

"XYZ, I don't want a family."

"Why, just the other day we were discussing the possibility."

"And I said no."

"She vacillates," XYZ explained. "A human female trait you may be familiar with."

"XYZ, I will pop your feet off right here and now."

A few moments passed. XYZ squeaked, "Well Andy, why don't you tell us more about the Mulari Fauna Refuge."

Andy described the facilities further and then it was time to strap in for deceleration. Margery scolded XYZ for bringing up that parenting thing, "I don't want you telling people we want children. I don't want kids. And, in case you haven't noticed, you happen to be a robot, XYZ."

"I have been aware for some time that I am a robot."

"What I mean is-robots don't like kids. Children are messy, illogical, and-"

"I am very familiar with the capricious behavior of children. You clean up their mess and calmly explain the rubrics by which they are expected to abide. And if they steal your thumb you simply wait until they return it."

"When were you around kids?"

"When I was with Creation Corporation on planet Endora my secondary responsibility was guardianship of Manager Baldwin's two children. I performed well enough in this capacity to receive a financial bonus."

"You like kids?"

"I like executing my assigned task adroitly. I have neither the capacity to like nor dislike children. In case you haven't noticed, I am a robot."

"That's right. You're an insensitive being with no emotions whatsoever."

"Exactly."

She shook her head at him. "Oh, XYZ. You do make me laugh sometimes."

"As your husband it is my responsibility to provide you with entertaining companionship, so I am pleased to do so."

"You're doing a great job right now."

"I am pleased."

Andy was right, Hephaestus II Station was a tiny room in the middle of a featureless circle of gray metal. There were no real facilities, but there was a sprinkling of entertainment ships tucked among the rock haulers and freighters ringing the docking platform. Apparently that's where you went if you wanted a meal or a bed. They cleared the queue exiting the ship and Margery led XYZ across the little lobby to another tunnel. The sign said the Galaxy Cafe had alpha burgers that were out of this universe and their moonberry shakes were smoother than a black hole. He asked if she was hungry.

"A little. We can call Bernie Coulter from here."

He gestured to the dark tunnel. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll retrieve our luggage? I'm not really hungry right now."

"Are you sure?" Of course he was sure, robots didn't eat!

"I'll get our things and join you. Maybe I'll change my mind."

She smiled. "See you in a little while., XYZ."

"Right."

The prices at the Galaxy Cafe were predictably gruesome. Twenty dollars for a burger, sixteen for fried gnarls. But the place was packed with rock miners and haulers who were happy to pay. With the uranium rush going on just two planets away, everyone had plenty of money.

When XYZ showed up he was missing his hat as well as their luggage. When she asked him what happened, he buried himself in a menu and told her, "Our things are still being transferred from the ship. We'll have to go back."

"And your hat?"

"Having it cleaned. Say, do you think they have corn off the cob? They serve corn but I like my corn fresh, right off the cob."

"I already asked, XYZ. Sorry, they use freeze dried."

"That is a shame. I had a taste for corn. Maybe I should just have desert. You're nearly finished and this place is so crowded." He looked at the crush of customers filling the restaurant. "It might take some time to get a meal. I think I'll settle for something light. They have quite a selection of confections too. A flaming Bananas Foster Supreme. I like the sound of that. Hm. It's made with liqueur. I had better hold off. I might be drinking later."

She smiled. He really was the most entertaining husband. "Good idea."

"Now, here's something. A triple nut fudge sundae. Margery, I've seen these before and I want to tell you a little known fact. I know you will think this bizarre, but you can order a sundae on any day of the week."

"You had your hat cleaned?" She knew something peculiar was up with that hat.

"Yes. Say, did you contact Colonel Coulter? I should have stopped at the counter and asked if the Charm was docked."

"I didn't notice the hat cleanery in the lobby. That's strange for such a small place. That they would have a hat cleanery. Don't you think, XYZ?"

"Oh, I heard they were trying to expand this station. Get in new businesses and build up trade. They may even put in a sports arena."

"I'm still surprised. You don't see many hat cleaneries this far out on the frontier."

XYZ poked his head up from the menu. "Are we discussing my hat? No, I'm having my hat cleaned by a traveling hat cleaner from Thomes World. Do these nuts look triple-size to you?" He whipped the colorful menu around. "It says triple nut fudge sundae, but those nuts look small to me. What do you think, Margery?"

There was something extremely odd going on with XYZ and Margery wasn't quite sure what it was. The gray of his eyes shone brightly and his pupils were tiny; he refused to look at her too. That left ear was twitching imperceptibly. "XYZ, did you lose your hat?"

"Margery Z! Are you seriously suggesting that I, with my fully integrated cerebral net, could mislay my favorite hat? I know how much you like that hat and I assure you I would never misplace such a cherished family heirloom."

He lost the hat and he didn't want her to know! A tornado laugh bounced in her belly but she kept it from flying out. "What was I thinking?"

"Do you know what I recently realized? All these deserts contain sugar or sweeteners. Why, this rainbow squirtee is advertised as sweetalicious. There's nothing much sweeter than sweetalicious. Well, that does it. You know I can't stand to eat a sweet desert." He dropped the menu. "You're finished so I suppose we should just leave."

On the way back to the lobby he asked if she had contacted Colonel Coulter. "Not yet," she told him. The restaurant had been too noisy.

"I suggest we attend to that immediately. The competition for employment as a spacer is fierce, Margery. I would not want to lose this opportunity."

"We can use a cube." She led them toward one of the private alcoves across the lobby.

When she was absorbed in making the call, XYZ left the cube, telling her, "I think I see someone I know. I'll return shortly."

"Right." She didn't even look up from the computer phone. She'd located the Charm there at the station, but the operator was having trouble making the connection.

Poor Colonel Coulter looked utterly exhausted when he finally came onscreen. Hair sticky, dark eyes like sunken pits. She saw the torque wrench in his hand and smiled. "Heard you could use a little help, Colonel."

A twinkle flashed in his eyes. "You must be Margery. Helena messaged you were coming. I'm glad you came."

"Glad to be aboard, captain."

"Where are you?"

"We're here on the station. Main concourse. Where's your slip?"

"Only a tether, unfortunately, which hasn't made things any easier. All the docking facilities were taken when I arrived. Ramp 14, all the way down."

"I still have to find our luggage."

"I'll see you in a half hour, then?"

"See you then."

She found XYZ chatting with a small individual who appeared to be wearing a cherished Z family heirloom. The little boy couldn't have been more than five years old and the purple cap hung over his head, nearly concealing the bright flashing eyes. The child noticed her and a smile like sunshine stole over his dark face. XYZ snapped a look her way and whispered something to the boy. "Ah, Margery," he said. "Let me introduce you to Mr. Jones, my hat cleaner. As you can see, he also blocks hats upon request. Mr. Jones, this is my wife, Margery."

The boy pushed a finger into his mouth, giggled, and kicked a foot out.

"I know he looks young," XYZ whispered, "But he's just starting out and the competition for traveling hat cleaners is fierce. I thought I'd give him a try."

"He certainly looks like he's doing a great job." She reached down and adjusted the hat just a smidgen, giving it a jaunty cock. The boy giggled again.

"Well, Mr. Jones, I will meet with you again soon to conclude our business." XYZ shook the little fellow's hand. He told Margery, "A good hat blocking can take several days according to his brochure. I'll just have to remain hatless until he can get it back to me."

"My feet are tired. Why don't you get our luggage and I'll keep Mr. Jones company," she said. She was curious about the little fellow and the group he was with.

"Well. Of course. He is a bit taciturn, Margery, so don't be offended if he doesn't say much."

"We'll be fine, XYZ."

He hurried away. She nodded to a young priest who had been watching them. He and another priest and a nun had a dozen children grouped around a bench. Two of them were Vicarn children and there was a bright orange Kruk over too. The priest said, "We are taking them to the orphanage on Thomes World. I'm Father Jacob."

"Margery."

The priest placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "XYZ certainly is taken with Richard."

"Ricky!" squeaked the little boy.

"And Ricky seems to enjoy his new hat."

"I think so," Margery agreed.

"Tell me, are you-?"

"I am the wife."

The priest nodded.

She didn't know much about Catholics or religion in general and she asked, "How does the church feel about mixed marriage?"

"We're the New Jesuits. We preach love above all else," Father Jacob said. "Frankly, we're not in the church's good graces at present." He looked at the group of children. "We are violating church doctrine."

She said quietly, "The aliens?" The church did not want them helping aliens.

"Yes."

"You have a lot of steel."

"What?"

"You stand up for what you believe in, Father."

"We serve only God. They are His children too, you see. He gives us the strength."

She studied the group of children. The Vicarn kids were a bit standoffish, maybe even taciturn, but one of them was watching a girl tell a story, obviously part of the group. And the Kruk, bigger than the others, gave a little boy a bouncy ride on his knee. "They don't seem much different than the rest."

"They are all refuges of the same war. This may bind them stronger than blood."

"How far is Thomes World?" She had heard of the sanctuary planet.

"Only four days by passenger ship. However, we have a slight problem." Father Jacob shook his head. "It is of no consequence."

"What?"

"Go along, Ricky," the priest said, prodding the boy gently. Ricky scampered off to join the other children. Father Jacob told Margery, "Our travel tickets were cancelled. Temporarily, at least."

"Wait a minute. The church found out you were helping the alien kids and they did that?"

"We are trying to straighten it all out. It is hard, with the distance involved for communication."

"And you're stuck here?" Margery could not believe it. This was crazy.

"Only temporarily, I am sure."

Margery did some quick figuring. She had that eight hundred Helena forced on her, plus thirty-four hundred in cash and cards. It would run something less than two thousand dollars to get this group of kids to Thomes. She saw that XYZ was on his way back and whipped out two gold cards. "These haven't been touched," she said quickly. "That's two thousand standard, which should do it for you."

The priest was stunned. He could barely speak. "Bless you."

"Good luck." She hurried toward XYZ. She had no idea why she'd done that. Something about some idiot cancelling those tickets just made her mad. Half of it was Helena's money anyway; maybe this was that destiny thing she was talking about. And XYZ's traveling hat cleaner was with that group too. Competition was rough in that business, Mr. Ricky Jones didn't need to get stranded on top of everything else.

"How did you enjoy Mr. Jones' company?" XYZ said as they met in the middle of the lobby.

"You were right. Taciturn. That guy didn't say two words." She led them to Ramp 14.

"I warned you. He's nice enough once you get to know him."

"I talked to Colonel Coulter. He's waiting." She glanced at XYZ's tiny carrying case. "You know, I could carry that thing in my suitcase."

"No, thank you, Margery. We each have our own respective belongings to transport."

"What do have in there, anyway?" She knew he didn't need toiletries, clothes, or snacks.

"The same things you carry." He held up her suitcase.

"I don't think so."

"I mean personal items, Margery."

"Like what?" He seemed aloof and she was intrigued.

"My emancipation card. A lock, one floral specimen, and a stone. Nothing unusual at all about those items."

"Why would you have a stone?"

"Margery, we don't have time to discuss this at the present time. Colonel Coulter is waiting." He sped up and disappeared down the tunnel.

She had to jog to catch up. "XYZ, slow down. I'm sorry. What you have in there is your business."

He stopped. "They are perfectly normal and innocuous items."

She waited.

He explained, "On the fifteenth day I knew you, a gray and black stone fell from the cuff of your pants when you arrived home from work. I kept it, meaning to admonish you regarding your slovenliness. I had just cleaned and I certainly didn't want igneous stones all over the apartment."

"You kept it?"

"It was also the first object of yours that I ever possessed. I used to look at it while I waited for you to wake up. You must understand, I never lived with a human before. I was not aware at that time that people regularly discard stones and similar things." XYZ lowered his voice. "Now that I've reproved you I can dispose of that useless stone at my first convenient opportunity. We need to move along. The colonel is waiting."

She followed him silently. He'd kept that rock because it was the first thing of hers he'd ever had. Now she knew what that floral specimen was. One evening she'd surprised XYZ with a bright red rose, just for fun. She suspected he might have kept it. He really was one heck of a guy, ah, robot.

But what kind of lock did he have in that box? Maybe that had nothing to do with her. A padlock, a cypher lock? She couldn't figure it out. Then she brushed her hair away and she knew. A lock of hair from that time he'd given her a trim. That stone, the rose, and a lock of her hair. She had never heard of anything so sweet.

She dashed forward. Wrapping her hand over his, she helped him carry her suitcase. "It's pretty heavy, sorry."

"That's certainly not necessary."

"I don't mind."

"Well, thank you then."

"It's perfectly normal. A husband and wife carrying a suitcase concurrently."

"Of course."

His hand was cool, but she felt the warmth inside. His fingers were stiff but the epidermis had a springy flexibility. "You know, XYZ, I do get pretty messy sometimes. Maybe you ought to keep that rock. Just in case you have to admonish me again."

"Do you really expect me to transport a stone across the galaxy simply because you can't tidy up after yourself? I'll consider your request, but I won't make any promises."

"And maybe I want you to hang onto it. It is the first object of mine you ever had."

"There is that. I suppose I'll have to retain it then."

"Thanks."

"I'm merely fulfilling my obligation as your husband, Margery."

He most certainly was.

THE END

Bio: Chris Dean is a retired laborer residing in Iowa. An outdoor lover, Chris enjoys camping and hiking.

E-mail: Chris Dean

Comment on this story in the Aphelion Forum

Return to Aphelion's Index page.