Mimasan smileys, as I've said before, are weird little brutes. Unmated,
their euphoric mating calls attract them to each other and at the same
time protects them from native predators. The catch is that when they
mate they coalesce, each complementing the insubstantiality of the
other to become a single material entity.
And then, of course, there's no further need of their wistful, coaxing
aura.
After that they hate everybody, being newlyweds and not wanting to be
disturbed, so of course they radiate an exactly opposite aura that
guarantees them the privacy their joint little heart craves. Nothing
can come near enough to interrupt them without becoming so rabidly
angry that it has to rush off somewhere else looking for something to
fight. But you see how it goes.
"And from the row going on in the Argonaut," I finished, "I'd say that
Joey and Cora are definitely on their honeymoon."
"You mean they'll be like that always?" Cheryl asked, wide-eyed. "That
no one can go near them without flying into a rage?"
"Not always," I said glumly. "Just for five years. After that they
divide by fission into a dozen or so baby smileys, and after that the
rat-race starts over again. The progeny will be worth plenty, but who's
going to stand guard over that amalgamated little demon while it
broadcasts hate and damnation in every direction? I won't, and there's
not a homo in the System that would take the job for love or--"
The answer hit me like a thumb in the eye, bang in the middle of a
sentence.
"Captain Giles," I said. "I've a suggestion that...."
The Captain got it on first bounce. For the first time in history he
laughed without benefit of smiley.
It worked out neatly enough, at that. An Areopolitan court decreed
that Shanig, being bound by the requirements of Martian law to expiate
his crimes with as little expense to the polity as possible, should
spend the five years of his sentence guarding Joey-Cora in a force-wall
detention area to be set up in Syrtis Major. By the time his term ended
my combination smiley would have fissioned, Shanig would have paid his
debt to society and my investment would have paid dividends.
It could have been worse. For the time being I was out some forty
thousand credits, but I managed to salvage enough for a moderate
celebration by contracting with the government to furnish _khiff_
roots from Mimas to keep Shanig from going berserk under Joey-Cora's
influence.
The arrangement wasn't too hard on Shanig, even. The worst of it would
be the isolation--that, and the packs of Syrtis Major jackals that
would crowd around the force-wall at night and howl for his blood.
* * * * *
"Good enough," I told Cheryl after the trial. "That leaves just one
small detail to be arranged. I'll have to wangle another loan from
Martian Bankings."