“She’s serving as my valet part-time. She can’t do all the duties yet, but so far, so good, and she seems keen enough,” I say.

“Have you seen the news, though. They are saying you stole her,” my friend says, sending me the front page of the most popular newspaper from the Home Planet.

“Well, I didn’t. I told the farmers it was their punishment for almost letting me die. The doctor who officially owns her wasn’t even involved, so as far as I’m concerned, she was discarded property.”

“What if it goes to court?”

“Even if it does, I can pay her original owner off. I’m not worried.”

“Volunteers can only volunteer for another if the first master agrees,” my friend reminds me.

“I know the law,” I reply.

“Just reminding you.”

“As I said, she was discarded property. You should have seen the state of her. Bruises all over her body, barely fed, and yet she still saved my life. I would not leave her there.”

“But to make her your valet? People will talk.”

“People always talk about me,” I reply. “Let them talk. I took in a Water woman. I gave her a job that needed filling. I didn’t ask her, but she seems to want the job.”

“What do you mean you didn’t ask her?”

“She doesn’t speak our language well yet,” I reply.

“Hmmph,” was all my friend replies. “I was wondering,” my friend asks, and I now know this is the real reason for his call. “What’s she look like?”

“Colorful like all Water people, brown and cream colored.”

“And that had nothing to do with why you kept her?”

“No,” I say. “Unlike you, I have some morals. I would never take advantage of a volunteer. There’s nothing erotic about having sex with someone who isn’t allowed to say, ‘no.’”

“I’ll remember you said that,” my friend says.

“Galactically speaking, she is attractive, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find her attractive. However, I’m not a beast. I can control myself,” I say, but images of her naked and her rubbing soapy foam over her skin flood my thoughts, and blood flows to my penises.

“Hmm, an unmarried man takes on a beautiful Water woman volunteer,” my friend says. “Sounds like the beginning of a modern fairytale to me.”

“Is there anything else?” I ask, cutting off his musings.

“Not really,” he replies. “You were correct, by the way. It was the government who sabotaged your transport. The treacherous one responsible died in the crash. What happened to those bodies, by the way? Did the farmers eat them?”

“No, the doctor who owns the farm commandeered them for experiments.”

“Gross.”

“I know,” I reply. “But now that the government has changed, people can do what they want with so few laws.”

“The honeymoon period of this new government will wear off,” my friend replies.

“For the good of our planet, I hope so. Goodnight, friend.”

After the call has ended, I spend some time reading what journalists on the Home Planet have written about Volunteer 4711 and me. I don’t think it’s anything I need to worry about. So, I turn off my light and go to sleep.