"After the last Martian civil war, the government changed from a republic to a federation. They still call themselves the Martian Federation, but most call them the Mars Feds," Doctor Rhys commented. "Mars seems progressively more conservative after each civil war."

A spider-like service robot gently sets what suspiciously looks like white wine in a glass in front of Dr. Rhys. The bot places a slender, frosty pilsner glass filled with a pale, hoppy-smelling beer in front of me.

"Doc, you're from Mars?"

"Not originally Nathan. Like you I was born on Earth. As a young orphan, I was adopted by an elderly couple and immigrated to Mars with my new parents."

"Oh. Yeah, I think you mentioned that."

"I grew up and went to school on Mars, completing my first two doctorates."

"The Mars Navy Medical Corps attempted several times to entice Madam into their ranks," Tex said.

Dr. Rhys waves her hand dismissively. "The Navy pays shit, and wouldn't accept the budget I needed for my research. I do not wish to get involved in the next Martian civil war."

"The Martian Navy remained neutral in the civil wars. Despite the wars there was no planet-wide bombardment–yet. The first Martian civil war, called the Martian City State War saw pee-wee nukes and enhanced thermobaric weapons destroyed several surface city domes," Tex pointed out.

"That's commonly known history, Tex," I said.

"Most of the human occupied areas on Earth had barely even considered recovering from World War Three when the initial nuclear salvo of the first Machine War struck." Tex said. "Since their discovery, humans have enthusiastically used nuclear weapons."

"And the machines as well, Tex, when they could. The Martians, especially their Marines, are famous for their five-kiloton nuke hand grenades," I said.

"I find human history fascinating. Madam and you, Nathan, are members of an intriguing, conflict prone species."

"There are rumors that another Martian civil war may be brewing," Dr. Rhys said. "Nathan and I are both from Earth, Tex, but that was quite a while ago for both of us."

"On Earth, the Eastern Alliance responding to the nuclear destruction of holy places, including the Vatican, Mecca, and the Temple Mount, launched a retaliatory nuclear strike that further escalated the conflict," Tex explained. "That is what truly made it the Third World War."

"Nukes similar to the backpack pee-wee nukes used to wipe the ancient holy sites from the face of the earth are still used today." I said. I sip my beer, thinking about the war's historical damage.

"Nathan, the brutal loss of the ancient holy sites underscores the profound disruption to religious and cultural heritage during the conflicts," Doctor Rhys said.

"Most of what the ancients called the Middle East is still covered in highly radioactive nuclear glass," Tex said.

"Long before even my time Tex. I'm a meat popsicle but I am not that damned old."

"Many fighters put religion aside, battling a common foe during the first Machine War." Tex cuts in. "The Resource War, sometimes incorrectly called the fourth World War, was not about religion or politics but about dwindling natural resources such as fresh water and fossil fuels."

"Long before any of us were around Tex," I point out again.

"True, but still an interesting study of human history. Shortly after the armistice signing, the machines, many of them veterans of the last world war, and the following Resource War, attacked humanity."

Contemplating the past, we all fall silent as a spider-like, multi-armed serving robot puts short, wide-mouth cut-crystal glasses in front of us. It efficiently pours chilled water into each glass. After the glasses are full, the bot sets the condensation-laden cut-crystal pitcher with ice floating in it on the table. It places eye-watering bright white linen napkins beside the glasses.

The robot server silently glides away. I look at the ice floating in my glass. I'm trying to remember the last time I had ice.

"Madam, it's been far too long since you graced us with your presence."

Hearing a new deep voice, I eye the huge Black man standing beside our table. Dreadlocks, long and silver, spill out of a tight white chef's cap. His pristine white chef's coat, stark against the restaurant's gleam, stretched taut, threatening to split across his powerful shoulders. The sleeves, tight and bulging, hinted at the raw strength beneath.

The chef, devoid of trousers, presented a smooth, hairless expanse, catching the restaurant's light. I cannot help but notice the rather large red bow with tiny flashing multicolored lights tied around his impressive cock and balls.

"Francois, it is good to see you again," Doctor Rhys greets him by getting up and kissing him on each cheek. "How are the wives and husbands?"

"Good, my dear. Thank you for asking. We are expecting our 17th grandchild shortly."

"I believe your dinner companion is the famous Captain Rourke." He looks at me with one bushy eyebrow raised.

"You've got me pegged, Francois. I'm not so famous, though."

"I don't believe you have ever graced my humble restaurant, Captain."

"Nope, first time here."

"I am glad you are here, Captain. It is always a pleasure when a guest experiences my restaurant for the first time."

Francois nods at us and walks away, graceful for such a large man. I watch the equally graceful Dr. Rhys take her seat assisted by Tex.

From the way her eyes and hands move, Doc is looking at the holographic menu again. "Nathan, let us start with a few appetizers."

She makes some selections, and in a few moments, a robotic spider server silently glides to our table. It silently places dishes between us and then moves away.

"Damn, I forgot to grab my chopsticks," I muttered, wondering if I'd left them in my coffin like flat. Or were they in my coveralls?

Cutlery was no longer given out by restaurants because of designed nanotoxins that endured autoclaving. With public safety in mind, everybody brings their own eating utensils.

"Here, Nathan, I removed these from your disgusting coveralls before dropping them in the disintegration chute."

"Thanks, Tex, I appreciate it." I will not mourn the loss of my last pair of ship coveralls, but I would have mourned the loss of my favorite false jade-tipped onyx chopsticks.

Fingers dancing over the cool stone of the table, I squint at the holographic menu. Its ethereal glow illuminates the stone surface as I scan the options, hoping to decipher Doc's cryptic order.

One dish contains breaded calamari rings served with a spicy chili dipping sauce. The menu brags that the restaurant weekly imports fresh squid from Europa to make the calamari. No wonder it's likely so damned expensive. Fuck, you could probably feed a family of four for a standard week in Slagville for what I am guessing is the price of that one dish.

"I forgot, Nathan, that without a comm unit, you cannot view the menu internally. You also lack access to the Galactic Net. Your lack of a comm unit is why I had to come to Slagville in person," Doctor Rhys said.

"I adjusted the table setting Nathan. The table will now manually project menu items," Tex said.

"I am still not sure why you wanted to see me. This lavish dinner concerns me. What do you want, Doc? What are you attempting to do?"

"I will explain in good time, Nathan. Here, try this dish."

Using her chopsticks, Doctor Rhys taps a dish. The menu says it contains thin strips of grilled teriyaki-flavored Spam glued on top of a block of vat-grown white rice. The whole thing is wrapped in locally vat-grown dark green seaweed, which makes it look like a present. Holding the suspect seaweed-wrapped mystery meat in my chopsticks, I give it a tentative sniff.

"Doc, what the fuck is Spam?"

"Spam, my dear Nathan, is a delicacy of the Revered Ancients. This version is probably not as the ancients ate it. This is a soy-based vat grown synthetic from the food replicators."

The food replicators, called "foodies," mostly use soy-based source material. Centuries ago, people theorized about foodies, but they only became viable once mass fabricators were common because they share much of the same technology.

I find the Spam salty and a bit rubbery, but otherwise tasty. I like the seaweed and rice better and wish they came without the ancient treat.

Our table receives another robotic visitor, this time from a hovering robocart laden with an extensive array of bourbons stretching across the spectrum of flavors and origins. As it halts beside Dr. Rhys, a series of informative holographic tags materializes above each shot glass, meticulously detailing the provenance of the liquors.

The offerings span a diverse selection, featuring several Erosian bourbons alongside some of those crafted in Titan, Mars, Europa, and various other colonies scattered throughout the galaxy.

The hovering cart presents me with a generous beer taster flight, mirroring the meticulous organization seen with Doctor Rhys's bourbon assortment. Helpful holographic tags accompanied each beer, enlightening me about its characteristics and origins.

It's a considerate and thoughtful choice on Dr. Rhys's part, recognizing my preference for beer over hard liquor. The array of beers spans a spectrum of flavors, showcasing the diverse and innovative brewing practices from various colonies. It's been years since I had anything but gutter rotgut that could barely call itself beer.

"Nathan, I understand you truly do not care for hard liquor. I thought you might appreciate a selection of beer instead."

"Thank you, Doc."

The robocart removes our empty dishes and places plates of large, multi-legged, armored aquatic critters between us. I consider drawing my knife, wondering if I will have to fend off these dangerous-looking animals.

I poke the nearest 15 cm dark red creature with my chopsticks, certifying it is dead. I must consult the Holo menu again to identify what is on the plates.

The menu identifies the animals as Europian jumbo shrimp, delivered fresh by express shuttle this morning. The large, heavily GMO'd shrimp are a recent development.

I noticed that there are no prices listed on the menu. This restaurant is one of those where you don't belong if you must ask how much something costs.

Doctor Rhys attacks the shrimp with vigor, ripping their heads off and peeling them out of their shells with gusto. I follow the doctor's example.

The food is tasty, and I am enjoying the company. Raw jumbo shrimp comes with lemon wedges and a spicy citrus and chili dipping sauce. While we eat, Tex stands silent and vigilant beside our table.

With its subtle initial flavor, the dipping sauce gradually unfolds its latent spiciness, creating a delightful crescendo lingering on the palate. The contrasting temperatures and tastes paired with the cold beer generate a symphony of sensations in my mouth. The refreshing chill of the beer serves as a counterpoint to the rising warmth from the sauce.

The robocart once more paused at our table, setting down tiny ceramic dishes for Doctor Rhys and me. Consulting the Holo menu yet again, I identify one dish containing a creamy greenish chard-tahini dip.

Another dish holds small, toasted bruschetta pieces, about half covered in olive oil and sea fennel pesto. According to the menu, the vegetables in the dips and the grain used in the bread are all locally vat-grown.

Looking at the menu, I learned that the extra virgin olive oil is from Arcadia's own olive groves. I was unaware that two Erosian arcologies have large olive groves, some several kilometers wide with thousands of trees.

A surprising hunger surge grips me as I dig into the delectable array of dishes. Dr. Rhys and I trade dishes back and forth. The savory aroma and visually enticing presentation of the food intensify my appetite. With each succulent bite, I savor not just the flavors but the realization that my body, now hosting several bustling colonies of nanites, demands nourishment.

"Eat up, Nathan; the medical nanites need source matter. They cannot create it ex nihilo," Doctor Rhys wryly remarks.

"Uh ... Doc, what was that word you used?"

"Nathan, doctors are still trained in Latin. Ex nihilo means making something out of nothing."

A robocart serves us again, depositing three dishes, each holding a medium-sized fish.

"Nathan, I forgot to ask if you like fish."

"My family didn't eat a lot of fish growing up. It's an expensive delicacy that my family could rarely afford. The earth's seas are still toxic acidic soups, so any fish comes from expensive farms."

"China Grove is famous for its aquaponics reared bream, tilapia, and jade perch dishes." Using her chopsticks, Dr. Rhys points to each fish as she names them.

"The jade perch is drizzled with Shaoxing wine and has Szechwan peppers and ginger." She points to the next dish. "The tilapia has celery, onion, garlic, bell peppers, green scotch bonnet peppers, scallions, and ginger. The ripe, fresh avocado goes quite nicely with it. Berbere paste generously coats the grilled bream, and the dish comes with tomato and lemon slices."

She eagerly digs in. "If you dislike the fish, Nathan, I will order something else for you."

"That's okay, Doc. I don't mind eating fish occasionally, but it's not my favorite meal. It's not time for either Lent, is it?"

"My dear Nathan, I am not that observant, but no, First Lent is not for another month or so, as it is only early February. Lupercalia is coming up in about a week. On the 15th would you be interested in coming with me? Thankfully, it is not my turn to host this year, but I have a new dress that came with the cutest little flogger."

I fall silent while formulating an appropriate response without either sounding like a horny cad or admitting that, to my regret, I was not aware Lupercalia was coming up. Without a comm, I didn't have access to a personal calendar, nor have I really paid any attention to the calendar.

"I always wonder if the ancient humans celebrated Lupercalia as an orgy or a sex festival as has become the custom on Eros," Tex inquired.

Now that both Doc and Tex mention it, though, Lupe, as most Erosians refer to the day-long holiday, can be a lot of fun. Rumors of the alcohol and drug-fueled orgies that frequently occur during Lupe have spread to the closer colonies. Eros is seeing an increase in sex tourism.

While reminiscing about past Lupe celebrations, I spot a woman walking towards us from behind Dr. Rhys. She is gloriously naked except for sparkly green high heels and a fist-sized princess-cut green sapphire on a herringbone gold chain hanging between her small firm tits. Swinging as she walks, large green sapphires hang from each ear. She looks slightly familiar.

As she approached, I noticed her flushed face and body, with a light sheen of sweat. She is a tall woman standing about a meter six. In heels, she is closer to two meters tall. Her trim, athletic body, except for her eyebrows and head, is entirely hairless.

With a shock, I realize I recognize her and remember her body fondly. "Stravola, it's nice to see you again," I said. I wonder if this is the same Stravola that Doc mentioned earlier.

"Eve, it is nice to see you out again," Stravola said, greeting Doc first. She places her hand on my shoulder. "And Nathan, it's so nice to see you again. Would you like to fuck, for old time's sake?"

Poor Doc chokes, nearly spitting bourbon on the table. She coughs into her napkin, carefully wiping her mouth.

"I just spent a lovely time with three gentlemen." Stravola licks her red, plump lips suggestively. "But I wouldn't mind another round."

"Stravie, I was not aware that you knew Captain Rourke." Doc holds a small snifter of bourbon in one hand and her napkin in the other.

"Eve, back during Nathan's golden boy period, the Captain and I fucked quite frequently for a while. That was back before my family moved to Arcadia, managing the olive groves here. I remember that the captain has a nice cock, and even better, he knows how to use it. We could always share him. It would be like old times."

Doc's face flushes from embarrassment or arousal; I don't know. Stravola's hand strokes my arm. My mind went straight into the gutter as I imagined myself in bed with these two stunning women. The idea that these two women have shared lovers before is intriguing.

I love Stravie but want to claw her eyes out right now, Dr. Rhys thought. My best friend in Arcadia makes me very jealous. I do not appreciate her mentioning our few drunken and stoned sexual encounters with a man together. We have not shared a lover for over 15 standard years.

"Stravola, how are your husbands," Doctor Rhys inquired.

Stravola waves a dismissive hand. "Eric and Michael are home with the twins. I think Margareeta, the blonde from across the way was coming over. So they should have somebody else to fuck if they get bored with each other."

"Is that the same young woman you are considering adding to your marriage?" Dr. Rhys asked.

Stravola sighs. "Yes, Eve, that is the same young woman. But she is still really mad at me."

"Why?" Dr. Rhys asked.

"The four of us were in bed and the boys were warming up for a second round. My husbands were cuddling and stroking each other. I thought to inspire them with a show of her and I in a 69. She is mad at me for sitting on her face with my pussy loaded from both husbands."

"I would be mad as well," Dr. Rhys said. She glares at the smirking Captain Rourke.

I am trying so hard not to laugh at the vivid imagery Stravola's tale creates. I am glad that I am sitting down, as I have a tent in my pants and don't want to display it to the other diners.

Stravola keeps touching Captain Rourke, fanning my jealousy. The coarse strands of sandy brown hair brush against her palms as she runs her hands through Nathan's shaggy mane.

"I like the gray at his temples, Eve," Stravola said. Dr. Rhys fractures the snifter in her hand.

"Stravola, without a comm unit, Nathan cannot adjust his body's apparent age. Once Tex and I install a new comm in his cyberware, he can dial back the gray." I hope he keeps the gray in his hair, Dr. Rhys thought. I like that the gray at his temples makes him look distinguished.

I can smell the earthy musk of an aroused woman drifting from Stravola's body. "It's been a little over 20 years, hasn't it, Stravie?" I look at Doctor Rhys. "Sounds like Stravie still likes pulling trains; not something I was ever or am into now."

Stravie laughs lightly. "Oh, Nathan, you remember. Yes, I still appreciate at least two men at a time, but three at a time is still my favorite. Nathan, if only I could break you of that horribly antiquated and boring practice of serial monogamy. There is a nice size orgy in the zero-gravity room on this level. I am afraid you will find it too much of a sausage party. Sure, I can't interest you in a quick fuck, Nathan?"

"No thanks, Stravola, but seeing you again was nice."

To my surprise, I am very delighted that Nathan refused Stravola's offer of sex, Dr. Rhys thought. I am also pleased to hear that Nathan prefers monogamy.

"You naughty boy, you are not wearing what you should be, Nathan. It's not nice to tease a woman. I am heading for the bathroom." With that, Stravola lightly kisses my forehead and walks away.

I look at my clothes and then at Doctor Rhys. "What should I be wearing?"

"I did not want to presume for you, Nathan," Dr. Rhys said. "Here, in the arcologies, an informal color code is used. Tex, if you would please."

Tex pulls a large Martian red rose out of a storage compartment that they stuck in the right breast pocket of my coat.

"Nathan, it is a simple color code based on an ancient ground traffic control mechanism," Tex explains. "Red means not open for lovers. Yellow is possibly open. Green, or lack of a green item, is open for all lovers. If you would rather, I have other items in different colors."

"Well, then red is good for me. Thanks, Tex." I am pleased that Doc wears red and believe I may understand why she wears it so substantially.

As Stravola walks away, I am firm with myself and do not watch her ass, but my treacherous mind reminds me of how it felt in my hands.

Doc puts the fractured shot glass down. "I am going to talk to Stravola in the bathroom. I will be right back, Nathan. Order more food or beer if you wish."

She quickly chases after Stravola, softly calling her name. I see them walking together toward where I assume must be the restrooms.

After Doc leaves, Tex looks at me. "Nathan, can you explain why human women must go to the bathroom in groups?"

"That, Tex, is one of the universe's greatest mysteries."