Ratthi handed me my jacket with a smile. “Yes, but I’m used to that.”

(Yes, I got that that was about me.)

The jacket had been recycler-cleaned and the material rewoven to fix the burned parts and holes. Ratthi sighed, leaned against the wall and said, “So, you have a relationship with this transport.”

I was horrified. Humans are disgusting. “No!”

Ratthi made a little exasperated noise. “I didn’t mean a sexual relationship.”

Amena’s brow furrowed in confusion and curiosity. “Is that possible?”

“No!” I told her.

Ratthi persisted, “You have a friendship.”

I settled back in the corner and hugged my jacket. “No. Not—No.”

“Not anymore?” Ratthi asked pointedly.

“No,” I said very firmly. ART had stopped pinging me but I knew it was listening. It’s like having a malign impersonal intelligence that is incapable of minding its own business reading over your shoulder.

Ratthi’s expression was doing a neutral yet skeptical thing that was really annoying. He said, “Have you made many friends who are bots?”

I thought about poor dead Miki, who had wanted to be my friend. There was a 93 percent chance Miki had wanted to be everybody’s friend, but Miki had said to me “I have human friends, but I never had a friend like me before.” I said, “No. It’s not like that. Not like it is between humans.”

Ratthi was still skeptical. “Is it? The Transport seems to think differently.”

I said, “The Transport doesn’t know what the hell it’s talking about, plus it lies a lot, and it’s mean.”

A minute, undetectable in the range of human eyesight, fluctuation in the lights told me ART had heard that.

“Why do you call it ART?” Amena asked. “It said its name was Perihelion.”

I told her, “It’s an anagram. It stands for Asshole Research Transport.”

Amena blinked. “That’s not an anagram.”

“Whatever.” Human words, there’s too many of them, and I don’t care.

“Regardless,” Ratthi said, “I think that while you and Perihelion know how to have relationships with humans, neither of you is quite sure how to have a relationship with each other.”

It still sounded disgusting. “Do you have to call it a relationship?”

Ratthi shrugged one shoulder. “You don’t like the word ‘friendship.’ What else is there?”

I had no idea. I did a quick search on my archives and pulled out the first result. “Mutual administrative assistance?”

The lights fluctuated again, in what I could tell was a really sarcastic way. I yelled, “I know what you’re doing, ART, stop trying to communicate with me!”

Amena looked around the room, trying to see what I was reacting to. Ratthi sighed again. He said, “I don’t know if you’ve been listening to what we’ve been doing outside this restroom, but Arada and Thiago have been negotiating with Perihelion and have come to an arrangement. We will help locate and hopefully free its crew, and it will give us any assistance needed to return to Preservation space.”

“That’s not an arrangement,” I said, “that’s just doing what it wants.”