Keith ran a hand over his pate, and leaned back in his chair, looking out at the starscape hologram enveloping the bridge. There wasn't much else to do, until Jag reported back. Rissa was still off working with Boxcar, and alpha shift was coming to an end. Keith exhaled — probably too noisily. Rhombus had rolled up to the director's workstation to discuss something or other. Lights flashed across the Ib's mantle.

"Irritated?" said his translated voice.

Keith nodded.

"Jag?" asked the Ib.

Keith nodded again.

"In politeness, I observe that he's not that bad," said Rhombus. "As Waldahudin go, he's positively genteel."

Keith gestured toward the part of the starfield that hid the door Jag had gone through. "He's so… competitive.

Combative."

"They're all like that," said Rhombus. "All the males, anyway. Have you spent much time on Rehbollo?"

"No. Although I was in on the first contact between humans and Waldahudin, I always thought that it was best for me to stay away from Rehbollo. I — I've still got a lot of anger over the death of Saul Ben-Abraham, I guess."

Rhombus was quiet for a few moments, perhaps digesting this. Then his web rippled with light again. "Our shift is over, friend Keith. Will you grant me nine minutes of your time?"

Keith shrugged and got to his feet. He addressed the room. "Good work, everyone. Thank you."

Lianne turned around, her platinum hair bouncing as she did so, and smiled at Keith. Rhombus and Keith headed out into the chilly corridor, the Ib rolling beside the human.

A couple of slim robots were moving down the corridor as well. One was carrying a lunch tray for someone; another was running a vacuum cleaner along the floor. Keith still privately thought of such robots as PHARTs — PHANTOM ambulatory remote toilers — but the Waldahudin had started throwing things when it was suggested that Starplex terminology contained acronyms nested within acronyms.

Through a window in the corridor wall, Keith could see one of the vertical dolphin-access tubes, consisting of meter-thick disks of water separated by ten centimeters of air held in place by force fields. The air gaps prevented the water pressure from increasing over the tube's height. As he watched,-a bottle-nosed dolphin passed by, swimming up.

Keith looked at Rhombus. Lights wexe flashing in unison on his web.

"What's so funny?" Keith asked.

"Nothing," said the Ib.

"No, come on. What is it?" "I was just thinking of a joke Thor told today. How many Waldahudin does it take to change a lightbulb? Answer: five — and each one has to get credit."

Keith frowned. "Lianne told you that same joke weeks ago."

"I know," said Rhombus. "I laughed then, too."

Keith shook his head. "I'll never understand how you Ibs can find the same thing funny over and over again."

"I'd shrug if I could," said Rhombus. "The same painting is pretty each time you look at it. The same dish is tasty each time you eat it.

Why shouldn't the same joke be funny each time you hear it?"

"I don't know," said Keith. "I'm just glad I got you to stop telling me that stupid 'that's not my axle — it's my feeding tube' joke every time we met. That was irritating as hell."

"Sorry."

They continued down the corridor in silence for a while, then: "You know, good Keith, it's a lot easier to understand the Waldahudin if you've spent time on their world."

"Oh?"

"You and Clarissa have always been happy together, if you'll permit me to say so. We Ibs don't have such intimacy with other individuals; we shuffle our own genetic material amongst our component parts, rather than bonding with a mate. Oh, I take comfort from my other components — my wheels, for instance, are not sentient, but they have intelligence comparable to that of a terrestrial dog. I have a relationship with them that gives me great joy. But I perceive that the relationship you enjoy with Clarissa is something much, much more.

I only dimly understand it, but I'm sure Jag appreciates it.

Waldahudin, like humans, have two sexes, after all."

Keith couldn't see where this was going, and, on the whole, thought Rhombus was presuming on their friendship.

"Yes?"

"Waldahudin have two sexes, but they do not have equal numbers of each sex," said the Ib. "There are, in fact, five males for every female.

Yet, despite this, they are a monogamous race, forming lifetime pairbonds."

"So I've heard."

"But have you contemplated the ramifications of thatT' asked the Ib.

"It means that four out of every five males end up without a mate — end up being excluded from the gene pool. Perhaps you had to fend off some other suitors in your pursuit of Clarissa — or maybe she had to fend off others who were pursuing you; forgive me, but I've no idea how these things work. But I imagine in such contests it was a comfort to all the participants to know that for each male there was a female, and vice versa. Oh, the pairings might not end up as one might wish, but the chances were good that each man would find a woman, and vice versa — or a mate of their own gender, if that was their preference."

Keith moved his shoulders. "I suppose."

"But for Jag's people, that is not the case. Females have absolute power in their society. Every single one of them is — courted, I believe is the word — by five males, and the female, when she reaches estrus at thirty years of age, will pick her one mate from the five who have spent the last twenty-five years vying for her attentions. You know Jag's full name?"

Keith thought for a moment. "Jag Kandaro em-Pelsh, isn't it?"

"That's right. Do you know its derivation?"

He shook his. head.

"Kandaro is a regional designation," said Rhombus. "It refers to the province Jag traces lineage to. And Pelsh is the name of the female of whose entourage he is a member.

She's quite a significant power on Rehbollo, actually. Not only is she a famous mathematician, she's also a niece of Queen Trath. I met Pelsh once, while attending a conference.

She's charming, intelligent — and about twice Jag's size, as are all adult Waldahud females."

Keith contemplated a mental picture, but said nothing.

"Do you see?" asked Rhombus. "Jag has to make his mark. He has to distinguish himself from the other four males in her entourage if he is to be chosen. Everything a premating Waldahud male does is geared toward making him stand out. Jag came aboard Starplex looking for glory enough to earn him Pelsh's affection… and he's going to find that glory, no matter how hard he has to push."

That night, lying in bed, Keith rolled onto his back.

All his life, he'd had trouble sleeping — despite the advice people had given him over the years. He never drank caffeinated beverages after ! 1800. He had PHANTOM play white noise through the bedroom speakers, drowning out the sound of Rissa's occasional snoring. And although there was a digital-clock display built into his night table, he'd covered its readout with a little square of plastic card slipped into a join between the pieces of wood composing the table.

Staring at a clock, worrying about how late it was, about how little sleep he was going to get before morning came, was counterproductive.

Oh, he could see the clock face when standing in the bedroom, and he could always reach over and bend down the plastic card to look at it in bed if he was really curious, but it helped.

Sometimes, that is. But not tonight.

Tonight, he tossed and turned.

Tonight, he relived the encounter in the corridor with Jag.

Jag. Perfect name for the bastard.

Keith rolled onto his left side.

Jag was currently running a series of professional-development seminars for those Starplex staff members who wanted to know more physics; Rissa was running a similar series for those who wanted to learn some more biology.