"Had to," Bill answers. "I was hauling out of Dryod-7 with a cargo
of deluplasm. Damn valuable stuff, consigned to Hesdin-2. Well, I'd
figured the time a little wrong, and it left me with twelve hours
to kill before our convoy jumped off. And you know how it is. I was
facing three weeks of interstellar rations, and I had a sudden yen
for nonsynthetic food. So I looked in the guidebook, and there was
Corbie...."
* * * * *
Brack was disappointed from the start. When he sat at a table of the
hotel restaurant and studied the menu, he saw it was all synthetics.
"Blast it!" he barked into the table phone, "haven't you anything else?"
"I understand how you feel, mister." It was a live human female voice
that answered, not the usual robot. "Hold on. I'll come out and see if
I can help you."
Through the kitchen door emerged a young girl, short and white-skinned,
but very well proportioned.
"Outbound?" she queried. Her pretty face was clouded by an unhappy
expression.
"Yes, and I wanted something with a little taste to it, a little
substance."
"Such as what?" said the girl, tossing her long blond hair.