She looked at him swiftly, her eyes taking in each facet of his
features to see if he were jesting. She even wondered for a moment if
she had heard correctly.
"I'm going to get a divorce on Arcturus," he repeated, not looking at
her. "I've been thinking it over for the past several months. Finally,
I decided it would be the best thing for both of us. I hope you won't
contest it; I don't think I'd like one of those running battles."
Silvia sat stunned by the revelation. This was to have been her
surprise party, not his, for under Arcturan divorce regulations the
member initiating the action had the distinct advantage, especially
when the other was unprepared; the war-conditioned star-system had
developed this marital blitzkrieg to satisfy the sporting instincts
of its people and to attract the curiosity-seeking Earth trade. She
had figured it as a surprise to him, knowing he would be shocked by
its suddenness and take no action against her demands for what would
normally constitute an excessive amount of alimony.
"I thought I'd better tell you," he said, almost apologetically, "even
if it does work to my disadvantage." He got up. "If you'd care to
discuss it further, I'll be in the bar."
In shocked silence, Silvia watched her husband retreat down the aisle.
It was so typical of him to tell her, but the thought of him doing
something like this at all was incredible. More than that, it was
unbearable. She felt anger surge within her to realize that she'd
been beaten to the punch, even if the romantic fool had confessed
his intentions. Slowly, she could sense her plans wavering, becoming
insecure, and panic gripped her. She'd had it all planned, all of it,
working out the details with secret enthusiasm, never suspecting George
was discontented enough to take action himself.
* * * * *
She still had a good chance, of course, but not nearly as good a one as
before. The two years she had been married to him would be an eternity
compared to what compensation she might receive now, if she received
anything at all. Perhaps she could make up to him before they got to
Arcturus, convince him she was repentant, that she wanted him to remain
with her. The thought of kowtowing before him, putting her pride on
the auction block, sickened her, though. Besides, he would easily see
through the subterfuge; though weak, he was not a fool. Inwardly, she
cursed, her mind a frantic jumble of thoughts. There was nothing she
could do, nothing except hope for the best. Unless--
The stranger appeared with the thought concerning him. He dropped into
the seat beside her.
"Have you reconsidered?" he asked her quietly.
It was murder, she knew, and yet George was only an android,
something that was manufactured artificially in a laboratory in great
liquid-filled tanks; that somehow made it different, made it something
like putting a machine out of commission rather than destroying a life.
She wet her lips. "In the eyes of the law," she said, "it's murder, you
know."
"All the laws in the universe," the man returned gravely, "will not
make an android human, Mrs. Bennet. There is a faction which gives our
organization a bonus each time an android is destroyed, so you can see
you're not alone in this."