Picnic

hammock between two trees. Jim settled into it and idly watched the robot begin to assemble the tent. He imagined a pleasant little dinner scene here tonight for him and Nancy: Old Bob cooking filet equivalents over an open fire, red wine, the moons. Nancy would swoon over his thoughtfulness. Maybe they would play "harem" in the tent...

The ship's hatch swung open and Nancy stepped out. She spotted Jim lying in the shade.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

At first he wondered what she could be so upset about, but then he remembered that she had been running numbers on Old Bob. He had forgotten that she might be peeved about it; he had already accepted their situation as hopeless.

He sat up on the hammock. "I was just taking--"

"I know what you're doing. And not doing."

Her eyes bore through him. He sat uncomfortably. It felt just like a lecture from his father. He might as well be back home.

Then he could see her anger fade, to be replaced by