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scheming relatives. It had surprised and pleased him when she chose being with him over working as a “tame” Molecular Geneticist for the Greek humans and the native Derindl hominids whose world was occupied by Mother Trees that existed in symbiosis with the Derindl. He had so little experience of true loving, of companionship by choice. He gave her a happy smile.
    “ Nope. Feeling very good, really. Guess I needed the rest and recuperation,” he said, mentally querying his nanocube databytes to confirm their analysis matched his. Being used to internal “systems analysis” was a part of being a cyborg. As was seeing in infrared, ultraviolet, gamma rays and even radio waves when he activated the nanoware in his contact lenses. “You? Did Mata Hari help you get me here?”
    “Yes, she was really—”
    “Matthew.” A human-size holosphere took form to the side of Eliana, near the foot of their bed platform. Mata Hari herself took form in it, but not dressed in her Victorian lace spy dress. Instead, she appeared as a black-skinned, nearly nude Barbarian Queen. She lifted a hand to languidly finger a necklace of giant white pearls, with a central black pearl as large as a knuckle. “What about me?” she said softly. “I arranged for the floater sled to waft you down the Spine hallway to your oh-so-private stateroom. Which of course is criss-crossed by my lightbeam sensors array.”
    Eliana flinched at the sudden appearance of low power red laser beams crossing all parts of his stateroom, including a few dozen that touch ed Matt’s bare chest, arms and head. He just sighed.
    “Jealous, my lady? Yes, I love Eliana. And I also . . . cherish you, dearest one.” Mata Hari raised one eyebrow. “But you already know my organic condition thanks to your continuous monitoring of me, whether here onboard ship or in Suit outside ship. Thanks to your tachyonic comlink and senses, we are never apart. Right?”
    Mata Hari the Barbarian Queen crossed arms under her full breasts and went “Hmmph! You take me for granted.”
    Eliana bit her lip to avoid laughing. Matt gave thanks that his AI partner was a rapid learner of emotionality. And of how a naked woman could distract almost any man from asking pointed questions.
    “There’s a problem. Or several problems. What are they, dear partner?” he queried Mata Hari.
    With a snap of her long fingers Mata Hari changed her holo image to the Victorian spy look, now fully clothed and appearing a trifle impatient.
    “Zeta Serpentis lies just 75 light years from Earth’s Sol and at a diagonal vector from where we were at the F3V star,” Mata Hari said. “That means another ten hours of Alcubierre Translation time before we materialize. I need further guidance on simple matters and on complex ones.”
    Matt reached up to squeeze Eliana’s warm hand, pulled himself into sitting, then nodded to his other partner. “What simple matters?”
    Mata Hari’s black eyes focused on his. “Do we materialize at the F2V white star’s heliopause boundary, which will alert every starship and Port facility outfitted with a gravity wave detector? Or do we materialize closer in, close enough to rattle some coffee cups in that casino dome on Omega?” She smiled at him, knowing he would appreciate her command of human vernacular speech.  “Or do we try another approach?”
    Matt recalled his arrival at Omega as the personal Guard to a gaggle of methane-breathing tentacles. There had been seventeen freighters and private staryachts in orbit, with frequent shuttle traffic down to the Port arrival facility that sat like a small tent next to the three kilometer wide geodesic dome that housed all the lifeforms working, playing and hoping for more riches at the galaxy’s premier gambling establishment. While there was an Anarchate commercial office sitting beside the Tachyon Pylon that gave everyone easy access to interstellar fund transfers and mercantile demands, there had not been any Anarchate