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it really is nice of you to talk to me and everything. I just didn't know where to turn, y'know, and when that pretty young lady who answers your phone said you were in—" She fluttered her jeweled hands, rings flashing. "Some things you just gotta talk to another woman about."

    "Indeed," the other woman said. "And just what did you wish to speak with me about, Ms. Gleason?"

    "Well, Ms. Mylander. I—could I call you Susan? I mean, you're so friendly and everything—" Miri leaned forward, jumpsuit gaping.

    The woman in the screen took a deep breath. "If it makes you feel better, Ms. Gleason, by all means call me Susan."

    "Thanks. So, Susan, there's this guy, y'know," Miri waved her hands again, rolling her eyes. "There's always a guy, ain't there? Anyway, we date for awhile and he likes me and I like him Okay—I mean, he's got some money, an' a steady job on the shuttle as a grease-ape. Don't mind buying a girl a few presents, taking her out to nice places . . . ." Miri shrugged, taking her time about it. "Asks me to marry him—standard hetero contract; progeny clause says he'll take care of any kids we have while we're married, even if we don't re-up." She paused.

    "I am familiar with the standard co-habitation/progeny contract, Ms. Gleason. Did you sign it?"

    "Well, yeah, we did. I moved into his place. 'Bout three months later, shows I'm pregnant. I figure everything's okay, 'cause of the progeny clause—" She broke off, bowing her head sharply and raising a hand to wipe at her eyes. "Bastard walked out on me."

    There was a short silence. Miri raised her head again, bravely displaying her smile.

    "I don't quite understand, Ms. Gleason, what this has to do with Mylander and Zanthal," Susan Mylander said with professional puzzlement.

    "I'm gettin' to that," Miri said, visibly getting a grip on herself. "It's that he left. Contract had three years to run. I have the baby and he says forget it, contract's no good, 'cause it ain't his kid!"

    "Is it?" Ms. Mylander asked, staring in what seemed to be fascination.

    Miri wriggled her shoulders. "I think so. 'Course, there's a problem with it being so close to the time we signed and all. I didn't know he was gonna propose contract and—well, I ain't dead, y'know, Susan. An' grease-apes work the shuttle two weeks on, two weeks off."

    "I'm still not sure I understand why you need a collection agency, Ms. Gleason."

    "He owes me money," Miri cried, voice rising. He signed a contract said he'd pay for any of his brats I had while we were married. Could've been his as much as anybody else's. An' we were married." She took a deep breath and let her voice even out a little. "He owes me a bundle of cash. An' he says he won't pay. That's why I need a collection agency, Ms. Mylander. To get my money for me."

    "I—see." Ms. Mylander paused. "Ms. Gleason, I'm afraid that you do not need a collection agency at this point. What I advise you to do is engage legal counsel. If you speak to a lawyer, and he deems it proper for you to bring suit against your husband for breach of contract, wins the case for you and has your husband ordered to pay you a specified sum, and if your husband then refuses to pay that sum, Mylander and Zanthal will be happy to assist you." She steepled her fingers under her chin. "You must really engage counsel first, though, Ms. Gleason, and abide by the judgment of the courts as to whether your husband is responsible for your child or is liable for voiding the contract. We are not able to help you with those matters."

    "Oh," Miri said, bright mouth turning down at the corners. She forced another horrible smile, though her face was beginning to ache. "Well, that's fine, then, Susan. I know a couple lawyers. Real go-getters." She bent to the screen once more and reached out as if to touch the other woman's hand.

    Ms. Mylander was made of stern stuff. She did not flinch from the impossible caress, though her mouth tightened.

    "Thanks an awful lot for