Piotr sat on a curved, crystalline-organic couch produced by Kawthy. The Datamancer had spent about ten minutes reshaping the interior of the Corpse Seeker with taps of her V-ring, creating an "optimal data processing environment”.

  Now she sat across from him, staring at his face with unnerving bird-like intensity.

  Holographic spreadsheets floated everywhere. Hundreds of them, layered in three-dimensional space, each filled with random data params. One showed Warsaw's traffic patterns. Another displayed the nutritional content of pierogi. A third seemed to be calculating the probability that the Arachnids Man superhero was real (currently sitting at 0.00251% and falling). A bunch of windows showed the Division 881 prads and their gun partners scraping Crystalloid remnants from the scorched wall of the vampire compound bunker.

  "Question four hundred and seventy-three," Kawthy announced. "Why do humans create fictional narratives about their own extinction?"

  Piotr rubbed his temples. They'd been at this for over an hour now. "I... maybe it's a way to process existential fears?"

  "Processing method noted." Kawthy mentally added his response to a spreadsheet labeled 'Human Death Obsession - Subcategory: Entertainment.' "Question four hundred and seventy-four: What percentage of human males would accept non-human female romantic partners?"

  "That's... I don't think there's actual data on—"

  "Just give me an estimate based on your cultural knowledge," she bobbed. "I've had Epsy analyze your planet's pornographic search statistics from one of your computers. According to the stats found, thirty-two percent of queries involve non-human characteristics."

  Piotr felt his face burn under his lynx mask. "You've been analyzing Earth's porn? Who’s Epsy?"

  "Obviously. It's the most honest dataset regarding human desires!" Kawthy tilted her head, black and white feathers shifting. "Unit Epsy is a symbiote weapon currently inhabiting a government office in Seattle. Your flushed response to the provided information is noted. Question four hundred and seventy-five: Would you personally accept a non-human female partner?"

  "I... well, Linari—"

  "Not Linari." Kawthy leaned forward, her hexasuit suddenly peeling itself open to reveal a dark chest that gradually turned to shimmering, silver rainbows of down feathers below her neck. "Me. Would you accept me?"

  Piotr's brain stuttered to a halt at the unexpected inquiry. "What?"

  "I require a consort," she stated matter-of-factly, as if still discussing mundane chart data. "You possess valuable skills. Your understanding of Earth's information systems would accelerate my analysis by approximately 347%."

  "But... but Linari—"

  "Is irrelevant to this equation." Kawthy waved a hand dismissively. "Pradavarian legionnaires aren’t permitted to form exclusive bonds. Linari had a multitude of registered romantic partners across various deployments. You would be number forty nine."

  Piotr felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Forty nine?"

  "See her social media pics." Another spreadsheet appeared with photos of a drunk-looking Linari fiercely hugging various males and what was possibly also females of different species. "She hasn't updated her relationship status to include you yet. Statistical probability suggests she considers you a temporary deployment entertainment with low confidence interval."

  "That's..." Piotr struggled to process the photos. "How do you know what she thinks?"

  "Probability calculations." Kawthy rapidly moved closer on the round couch, scooching to his side, close enough that he could see the intricate patterns in her feathers, each one edged with an iridescent sheen. "I offer you something more valuable than temporary affection. Long term, lifetime consort cooperation with… many benefits."

  "You're asking me to be your consort based on... spreadsheets?"

  "Based on comprehensive data analysis, yes." She pulled up another hologram. "You're underutilized on Earth. Your past employment was mundane maintenance coding. With me, you'd be analyzing multidimensional datasets, creating algorithmic solutions for fleet-spanning logistics. Your charts would run on living Crystalloid servers!"

  Piotr tried to listen to his inner voice for helpful advice and still there was nothing. Maybe the battery really died. "Kawathra, relationships aren't just about optimization—" He finally outputted.

  "Aren't they?" She tilted her head. "Humans claim to value 'love' but your divorce rate is 41%. You pair-bond based on proximity, physical attraction, and resource availability. I'm offering all three plus interdimensional travel and functional immortality."

  "Immortality?"

  "Consorts of Arch-Datamancers receive life-extension treatments. Standard benefit package." She tapped her ring against the wall, and a contract materialized in the air, dense with tiny script. "Terms are negotiable. I'm willing to offer a 55-45 planetary Dominion bonus split in your favor, unusual for a first consort but… justified by your unique Earth knowledge."

  Piotr stared at the contract, then at the magpie Pradavarian who was discussing his potential marriage like a corporate merger. "Do you even like me?"

  "Like? Hrmmm." She considered this. "I find your thought patterns aesthetically pleasing. Your approach to data understanding shows elegant minimalism. When you explained recursive functions, your methodology was..." she paused, feathers fluffing slightly, "arousing."

  "My explanation of… coding turns you on?"

  "Efficient algorithms are extremely stimulating." She said with an utterly serious expression. "Your suggestion for optimizing databases was particularly exciting. I've mentally reviewed it seventy-three times!"

  Piotr found himself fighting back a chortle. "You're serious."

  "I'm always serious about data." She pulled up yet another spreadsheet. "I've calculated our compatibility across two hundred metrics. We score in the 94th percentile."

  "What about the other six percent?"

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  "Margin of error. No pairing is perfect." She moved close enough that her dark feathery mane brushed against his shoulder. "But we could approach relationship optimization together. Imagine it…” She shuddered. “Centuries of data analysis, pattern recognition, solving algorithmic problems that span galaxies."

  "I… need to think about this," Piotr offered.

  "Think quickly. My offer expires in..." she checked something on her interface. “When the others get back into the Corpse Seeker Alpha.”

  “Is it because Linari is going to smack you for attempting to steal the human she’s interested in?” Piotr wondered.

  “Maybe.” Kawathra clicked her beak.

  “Yeah, I'm not sure if I want to piss her off,” he pointed out diplomatically.

  “You’d be safer with me,” she said. “Up on the Sorrow.”

  “I’m plenty safe down here,” he said.

  “No, you are not. You could encounter a tragic accident! Very likely scenario! Slip on a bar of soap. Fall down some stairs. Get run over by a car. Do you know how unsafe your vehicles are, according to your own metrics? How unsafe your own doctors are? I am offering you eternity with me as my personal consort and datamancy assistant secretary, Stormy. Think about that. A finite moment, a flash of a life down here, or… eternity of safe, lovely data processing in my feathery embrace.”

  Piotr opened his mouth.

  "Question four hundred and seventy-six: Why do humans have such strong opinions about pineapple as a pizza topping?"

  "Hey!” He complained. “What gives? You can't just propose marriage and then ask about pizza toppings!"

  "Why not? Both are relevant data points." A spreadsheet titled 'Pizza Discourse Analysis.' became magnified. "Your emotional response to tropical fruit on flatbread appears disproportionate to its nutritional impact."

  "Wait, stop," Piotr stated sharply. "Before we go any further with pizza discourse, I want to understand something. What exactly is a consort in your culture?"

  Kawathra blinked her large black-blue eyes, feathers ruffling slightly. "You don't know?"

  "Not really," Piotr felt increasingly foolish under her analytical gaze. “Here on Earth we have… dating.”

  "Dating." Kawathra repeated the word like it was another data point. "Temporary recreational pair-bonding. How inefficient." She pulled up a new holographic display, this one showing anatomical diagrams and photos of naked pradavarians that made Piotr's face burn even hotter. "Here! I totally spaced out on the fact that you know nothing about us. Lesson one. Pradavarian sexual dimorphism is inverse to your human configuration. Our females are larger, curvier, stronger, more dominant, more open and more aggressive. We fight. We die. We get resurrected. We defend Citadel walls, brave dungeons and conquer worlds under the Frontenachii Aegis!"

  "And the prad males?"

  "Are precious." Her voice softened. "Smaller, gentler, designed for beauty and domestic excellence. They maintain homes, raise young, create art." She gestured at another diagram showing population statistics. "On Dominated planets, the female to male prad ratio varies from a minimum of one male per twenty females. Sometimes more, especially on the fleet where all the quality males are being hoarded by the higher ups. Males are too valuable to risk in combat. You are much, much more valuable than you imagine."

  Piotr studied the charts and images showing pradavarian colonies that the Datamancer manifested. Fortified cities where males lived in protected compounds, tending gardens, nurseries and libraries while armor-covered females patrolled the walls. "So males never fight?"

  "They do… on some barbarous worlds. But not where I’m from! Fighting males? That’s… so wasteful. Obscene even!" Kawathra's feathers bristled at the thought. "See, I would protect you from any and all future probabilistic dangers. The Sorrow is incredibly safe.”

  "But I'm not pradavarian," Piotr pointed out. "I'm human. Our dimorphism is—"

  "Reversed, yes. Your males are typically larger and historically did most of the fighting if your most commonly found records are to be believed. Completely backwards." She tilted her head. "But that makes you even more valuable. A male who understands combat enough to appreciate what we do? It's..." she paused, searching for words, "exotic."

  "Exotic," Piotr repeated flatly.

  "In the best way!" Kawathra pulled up her service record. List of commendations and her wearing medals filled screen after screen. "I'm one of the highest-ranked Datamancers in the third fleet! Do you understand what that means?"

  "You're good at spreadsheets?"

  "I've optimized supply chains across fourteen conquered worlds. My algorithms reduced fleet fuel consumption by 7.65%. My predictive models have saved approximately forty-three thousand pradavarians from Incarnation expenses and protected many from permanent soul corruption." Her chest puffed with pride. "I've earned the right to claim a consort. Someone to maintain my personal chambers on the Sorrow, manage my affairs, warm up dinners and… my bed."

  "A house husband," Piotr translated.

  "If you prefer that term. Though it would be more than that." She pulled up more images of elaborate pradavarian estates. "Consorts manage significant resources. You'd oversee my home data archives, coordinate with other consort households, even raise our offspring when my fleet service ends…”

  “When does your service end?”

  “Unknown. Potentially whenever I am transferred to work on a safe, fully dominated planet in the distant future. It is inevitable. I merely need to convince a Baroness or Governess of how effective I am at planetary affairs data management! Why, it could even be this Earth! Until such time, I go wherever Commander Sillicia goes, live on her warship. See, unlike the Alpha-Scrut, I can offer you absolute safety…”

  Piotr sighed. "So what you’re saying is… Linari doesn't get any of this?"

  "Linari is a ground-pounder. An Alpha Scrutimancer, yes, but still many victorious battles away from earning consort rights." Kawathra's voice carried a hint of smugness. "I got excellent terms out of the Frontenachii Rep when I signed my contract. Linari didn’t, she was desperate, scared of the Denver Dungeon devouring her world whole.”

  Piotr frowned.

  “Thus, Linari can have temporary liaisons," Kawathra continued. “Deployment entertainment. But she cannot offer you a home, security within warship walls, or permanence. Once your world is properly administrated and sorted out, she will depart from here and that will be that. She will only be allowed to retire on a Safe world when her mind and soul become damaged beyond incarnation. Meaning that… she won’t be herself anymore, will barely remember you on the best day.”

  "Right…. But, you're asking me to give up Earth," Piotr rebutted. "My life here."

  "What life?" Kawathra asked. “Dressing up as a barbaric warrior prince… prad? Living in that tiny red brick and gray concrete apartment on the third floor filled with hidden deadly dangers?”

  "How do you know about my apartment?”

  “Saw it through Etty’s feed.”

  “That's... invasive."

  “As Arch-Datamancer I get access to the data feeds of all the weapons in Division 881,” she clarified.

  “Very invasive.”

  The Arch-Datamancer stared at the charts and feeds, spacing out momentarily. Then she looked back at Piotr. "I'm offering you… purpose. Partnership with someone who values efficiency and optimization as much as you do. Someone who gets excited about elegant code and clean datasets."

  "And all I have to do is become an alien housewife?"

  “It’s more than that, Stormy. You’d be my anchor to rationality." She explained softly. "Do you know what happens to pradavarians who die too many times?"

  Piotr shook his head.

  "We lose ourselves. Piece by piece. Memory by memory. Eventually, some of us become barely coherent living weapons wearing familiar faces." Her talons clicked against the crystalline couch. "A good consort keeps us grounded. Reminds us who we were, when we are reborn from Genesis fluid. Maintains archives of our lives so when we come back from the Incarnator, we can remember why we fought."

  "Ah. That's why you really want me. Not just for Earth data."

  "I want someone who understands the value of information preservation." She met his eyes directly. "Someone who won't let me forget myself. I… I confess! I’m scared… I don’t want to forget myself in some distant tomorrow. If I die again, I’ll lose myself for a month, be a useless vegetable for weeks while I recover!”

  “How and why would you die again? You go into battle that often?” He wondered. “I thought that you spend most of your life on a ship sorting data, no?”