They reached a door and decontaminated before entering Tammar's lab. It was crowded and a mess. Robot parts were strewn across tables, with cords leading into giant vats of murky liquid. A few machines appeared to be sophisticated enough to produce bots, but this was no high production facility. She side stepped a maintenance bot on the floor and tripped over the severed head of a strange looking face. The data buss plug where the spine attached to the body was smashed from someone stepping on it, and one eye continued to spin in its socket. She felt sorry for it and didn't know why. She knew if Ketty was here, she would have picked it up and placed it on a table. Marangetti bots were nothing like the ones produced by the rest of the Galaxy. Each one was made with aesthetic taste and hyper efficiency in mind.

Even though there was unlimited energy available, the philosophy of the Marangetti was wholesome green conservation and minimal waste. It was a perfect society leaving a clean quantum footprint across the Subdivision. That aesthetic crossed over into their bots, and their appearance was highly visual and unique. But robot personality was the cornerstone of Artificial Intelligence engineering.

"This way," urged Tammar. He hung his coat on a hook and bellowed, "Frag, where the heck are you?"

"Here sir," a twisted plastic human scurried out of the storage banks along the back wall. He limped over and acted like he was in a hurry, but his leg would only allow him to move so fast. She saw his knee was broken and twisted, which was odd because a simple retrofit would alleviate the problem.

"I need to inspect the merchandise, we have a visitor."

"Right away," he turned to Pon-shea, "follow me if you would." Pon-she went through a door but Tammar stayed behind. Here was a long corridor, a little more organized, with data ports lined up along both walls as far as she could see. Each one held a sparkling new bot, and now she could see the method behind the madness. They were immaculate. Frag waved his hands and a hundred units came to life, the light whirring of micro motors and mechanical joints seemed unnerving, but Pon-she pushed down a lump in her throat.

"I have it from here," she gave the bot a stare and he jumped, then scurried away. The fact he sensed her mental powers gave pause for thought. How sophisticated were these models and what did she really know about the elusive technology.

She took one nervous step down the aisle and the room erupted in chaos. The first bot jumped up and down, shaking violently with anticipation. Drool ran out of its mouth and his eyes were as big as saucers.

"Don't pee yourself," she warned moving on. To her left a smartly dressed military bot was decked out in full armor, with weapons ports extending from arms and thighs. His helmet sported a full array of tactical sensors and there were more guns and ammo in racks behind him. She paused while he field stripped a plasma rifle in a matter of minutes.

"Not bad if I do say so myself," he tried to impress her.

She liked that one but there was no connection.

Next was a pleasure bot, used for one purpose. She had to admit the details were realistic and the bot could have passed for human. She noticed the fine hairs on the back of her arms and moisture around her eyes. After that was several standard issue, fully functional bots which she was sure could perform every task required, but they had little personality.

It seemed there was always a tradeoff between personality and function. She moved down the line, pausing and asking questions, touching to inspect the realism and admiring the innovation.

Hours had passed by the time she reached the end of the row and nothing struck her interest, not even a nibble. This should be exciting but she felt morbid, as if taking a bot would change her love for Jet.

Jettison hated bots and this would be a sore point if they ever saw each other again. That was the void she couldn't fill, and she realized a bot wasn't meant to replace love. She returned to the lab feeling empty and alone. When she got there, Tammar waited with an outfit.

"It's from my wife. I told her it wasn't your style, but she is a fan of yours and insisted you would like it."

Pon-shea took the shirt and vest off the hanger. "Turn around," she snapped. She wasn't always this brusque but spending the last year in DW Subdivision had taken its toll.

"I'm afraid you've looked at all your inventory." Some equipment crashed in the corner. Pon-shea was stripped down to her bra and panties.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, nothing," he hurried to a utility closet and slammed the door.

She pulled on the black halter top and laced the three strings at the front, cinching it down so no skin showed. It had a fine see through mesh which hung from her breasts down to her belly button, leaving her midriff exposed. The pants were retro utilitarian, hanging low on her hips with a matching translucent mesh which crawled up over her hips and kept the pants from falling off. The sides of the legs were cut out with sheer material covering her thighs and calves. The pants had laces at the hips and she adjusted them tighter, buckling a thin belt around her waist with fine silver chains.

Somehow the boots fit perfectly and she bent down to latch the small buckles while keeping an eye on Tammar. "Your wife knows my measurement."

He smiled and handed her two more accessories, a choker which she placed around her neck, and two wrist guards with open fingertips. She had to admit, she looked like a movie star.