“Yeah you know how it is, you meet someone, you see your own reflection and sparks fly,” Jocasta put in, fluttering her eyelashes in melodramatic suggestion.

“Okay, lets go,” Dirk said taking her by the arm and steering her towards a rear access way. She didn’t quite resist but she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Wait, how can you tell. You know, you said he looked good, do you just mean his armor looks good? Because it seems like you can’t really t…” Conversation was made impossible as the thin environmental door snapped open and then snapped shut behind them. Jocasta wasn’t quite certain but she thought she heard the air cycler on the helmet pick up in what might have been a sigh.

 

The room itself was more than adequate. A large suite with soft carpets and two loosely demarcated sections. There was an impressive hot tub and bathing area done up in a white gold marble veneer that probably covered more conventional fittings. This hotel had clearly been constructed to serve the increased trade rather than one of the original palaces or chalets. Warm planet light streamed in from a pair of French doors which opened onto a patio with a view down to the beach and the waving pink purple foliage of the palmlike trees. Whatever air reprocessor they were using it was clearly of a very high order. Possibly they had some kind of harmless protists or algae in the water that facilitated an actual exchange. More likely they had large environmental tanks buried into the crate wall.

 

“Shotgun!” she called and leaped onto the bed, her spacers coveralls flapping awkwardly as a trio of thumb sized drones flittered out of the sleeves and hemlines to avoid being crushed as she flopped onto the bed. They buzzed around for a moment before scattering to settle in unobtrusive spots where they could provide data feeds. The bed was harder than she imagined but not uncomfortable. She rolled onto her back and spread her arms, staring up at the diamond pattern molded in shallow bas-relief on the ceiling.

 

“Sure beats singing and wiggling my rump in that radiation soup from the last job,” she admitted, rolling onto her stomach and wriggling to a refresher unit by the side of the bed. She popped it open and looked inside.

“Hey, your little love nest has no minibar?”