"But where-"

"Oh, a little barter with the gentlepeople in s.h.i.+pping and Handling. I thought it would go well with a picnic, and you seemed so down in the dumps lately"

She took a bite of the delicious fatty pate and just let it linger meltingly in her mouth. She closed her eyes and savored it.

"Can you blame me?" she said finally.

"I had thought that you were happy when you were dating that mining foreman."

"Who? Edward? That was a laugh. Just a diversion. It's all pretty bland now, Til. It's all anticlimax."

"Hardly a very positive att.i.tude. Surely those Predator sorts didn't have foie gras sandwiches?"

"No. They ate their liver raw"

"Surely they didn't have clever and valuable android a.s.sistants?"

"No, and they didn't have robot slaves, either. They were quite resourceful, those fellows."

"Hmm. Sounds like they ate honor and valor for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Oh, no. There's a biological reason for their interest in Hunting. They're quite carnivorous. You can pretty much tell by their breath." "What a lovely bunch. And you say you actually miss them?"

"Miss them? I wouldn't go so far as that, Til. They're not exactly the lovable sort. No, they hardly inspire much sentiment." She sighed and thought of a different way of putting her feelings. It pretty much came out exactly the way it came out before. "I felt alive then."

"You're alive now. You want me to engage my diagnostic functions?" He grabbed her wrist. "Ah, a pulse. A very good sign."

"Sorry. I felt fully alive. Fully in the now of existence."

Attila shrugged. "Dangerous sportsters report the same kind of rush. It's all the human body's internal drug system. I'm told that they have some nice rushes on the black market as well."

"No, no, you just don't understand."

He nodded. "No. Perhaps I do. Perhaps, with all this proving of your mettle, your own honor and valor in this society of hypermacho creatures, you were able to somehow momentarily blot out the shame and guilt that rest so heavily upon your family's name because of what your father did, and what that means in the culture that you cling so stubbornly to."

"I hate it when you get like this."

"Get like what?"

"What-did I buy a psych-bot for G.o.d's sake? What kind of bulls.h.i.+t are you handing me?"

She got up, red-faced, and threw the half-eaten sandwich at him.

Attila flinched.

"Simply pointing out things we've already discussed."

She was immediately sorry.

She realized the reason why they didn't call these things robots anymore.

Robots didn't have feelings. Androids did. And though perhaps those feelings weren't as screwy and cantankerous as human feelings tended to be, they deserved respect and consideration.

"I apologize, Attila." She went over and picked up the sandwich, biting into it as though she were eating the words she'd previously spoken. "A delicate area." She brushed some dirt and gra.s.s from the sandwich and took a large bite, masticating with emphasis. "Hmmmm. Lovely."

Attila the Hun folded his arms. "Perhaps I refuse to be tricked in such an obvious way."

"Oh. You won't forgive me?"

"I was never upset. What's to forgive?"

"Oh, now who's dissembling?"

"I find our course of conversation extremely unproductive and will now resume my role as your trustworthy, faithful, and silent robot servant."

"In other words, you're going to sulk." "Precisely."

"Well, before you do that, maybe I can have your input on what I'm presently looking at over there."

She directed her finger skyward.

Attila swiveled his head, responding immediately to the seriousness of her tone.

The s.p.a.ceport lay to the west of the makes.h.i.+ft town. They had driven immediately south. Coming down on incandescent impellers was a stars.h.i.+p, flas.h.i.+ng in its own exhaust and in the exultant sun at its zenith.

"A moment."

There was a click and hum as Attila's oculars focused on the object and made the appropriate telescopic adjustment Attila had shown her some of the mechanical aspects of his composition. All truly impressive. Hidden compartments. Perhaps even hidden weapons? He even claimed that portions of his body could operate independently of one another-by remote control. At. his more exasperating moments, Machiko sometimes felt like testing this out with her sword.

"Well?"

"Impatience is not a virtue of a warrior."

"My humanity is leaking. So . . . spill."

"Your metaphors are mixed."

"Come on."

"It's a most curious s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, Machiko Noguchi. Some kind of KX model."

"KX models..." She whistled. "Those are exclusive yachts."

"Indeed."

"Why would anyone who owns a KX want to come to this G.o.dforsaken planet?"

wondered Machiko Noguchi.

Chapter 4.

It didn't take - long for her to find out.

"Well," said Livermore Evanston, hoisting his own gla.s.s of fine wine to his guest, "here's to health, happiness, and a mutually beneficial business arrangement."

Machiko looked at him suspiciously. She sniffed the br.i.m.m.i.n.g crystal gla.s.s of startling red he'd just poured. Superb. This, coupled with the foie gras, would just about make her gourmet quotient for the year. Nonetheless, she managed a noncommittal expression.

"I only know your name and that you zoom around in a big private stars.h.i.+p.

As for business arrangements, that remains to be seen."

He smiled, his red cheeks glowing like cheery Christmas bulbs. His merry eyes were wide and open and seemingly wanted to hide absolutely no secrets. "Oh, I think what I've got for you, my dear, will be of emphatic interest."

She sipped the wine. Truth in advertising on this. It was the best burgundy that had ever crossed her lips, a glow of grapey warmth with a dry yet clever finish.

She took another sip, though, just for the alcoholic content.

"May I sit?"

"Certainly."

He gestured to the streamlined though well appointed seat before her.

Everything on this s.h.i.+p was sleek and streamlined, but with touches of quality and cla.s.s that could come only from wealth.

She sat, and the cus.h.i.+oned chair was very comfortable indeed, ergonomically accommodating her body.

"More wine?"

"Why not?"

She put her gla.s.s out and had it topped off.

"Excellent stuff, no?"

"I see nothing on this s.h.i.+p that's not excellent."

"I'm so happy you could take the time to come here and visit me."

She shrugged. "I miss out on a frozen dinner, my vid, and my robot. You owe me a lot."

"An attractive woman like you, not being wined and dined on the evening of a weekend. Somehow the very notion appalls me. I am happy that coincidence brought me here today."

She took another sip and leaned over, all politeness wiped from her face now, replaced by a pure business expression.

"So. Let's cut to the chase."

"Gladly." He sipped at his gla.s.s. "I have an offer for you, a business proposition, that I think you will find most interesting."

She leaned back to listen.

When she and Attila had returned to her apartment, there was a message waiting on her communications module. It was a man's voice, requesting her to return the call to a certain number.

She did not return the call.

She had a bath. Time was a luxury, and always after a strenuous workout she took the chance to have a languid bath, filled with scented oils and topped with delicious bubbles. She'd never taken time for them as a corporate ramrod in those frenetic pre-Ryus.h.i.+ days. Just quick showers. Her baths on Ryus.h.i.+ had been generally cold water. And with the Hunters . . . well, they seldom took baths, and so she'd just learned to live with her own true grit.

Now, though, her baths were opportunities to shut out theuniverse.-Machiko-time she called it. She had all kinds of interesting gadgets in her bath.

Dried off and in her synthsilk robe, she'd been in a reverie that she liked to think of as meditation but was actually a regretful daydreaming that she'd started at this dead-end job here, when the phone had rung.

She ignored it.

Attila, however, had not. Attila had answered and then had insisted she take it. This made her think seriously about selling Attila. However, she did take the portable phone and placed it to her half-listening ear.

That was the first time she had heard the name Livermore Evanston.

It was only after she'd rung off and discussed the phone call with Attila that she realized, with the android's help, that the address she'd been invited to that evening was a docking bay at the s.p.a.ceport. In all likelihood she would be heading that evening to the s.p.a.ce yacht she and Attila had witnessed landing. Attila had been all a twitter about the possibilities, but Machiko remained stoic and suspicious.

There was too much to lose if any kind of hope crept into the mix.

"Let me put my cards on the table from the beginning," said Livermore Evanston. "I know quite a bit about what happened on Ryus.h.i.+ than most people.

And I know more about you than the corporation does."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You want to spell out exactly what you mean by that?"

He knew about the Hunters? That seemed unlikely. They kept a low profile, and their maneuvers through human as well as universal history had been veiled with secrecy. That, after all, had been part of their Game.

Her time with the yautja was officially "unaccounted for" in Company records; the Company didn't know what had happened in the time she was missing, but they knew enough to bury her someplace safe. They'd thought they had done that when they left her on Ryus.h.i.+ after the colony was moved.

"I know about your experience with the alien arichnida."

"The bugs, you mean."

"Yes. They are, frankly, the reason I'm here."

Something sparked in Machiko. She could not help but move forward.

Doubtless, interest flamed in her eyes. It wasn't a good poker face anymore.

f.u.c.k it. Bugs were Bad. Anything that had to do with squis.h.i.+ng them was worth paying attention to, and every little bit of help she could extend to eradicating them from the galaxy she did not begrudge.