A time traveler sometimes finds himself faced with certain unique moral dilemmas. For example, is it considered bigamy if you are married to someone in the future, but then travel back in time and marry someone else?

Also, is a person guilty of the sin of fornication if they travel back in time to the point before the act of fornication and get married first?

What exactly did Ibira expect from this anyway? Did she have a death wish? Why even bother marrying when `til death do us part' is a week from the wedding night?...I suppose if you were in Victorian England or the old west, when they didn't survive childbirth...

I hadn't brought any dress clothes. Even my nice black dress wasn't available yet.

And so I just changed out of my diaper and went to the cave in business casuals.

Awkward. Very awkward. All the churchgoers were present, Osmifa, the mind readers, and a group of people I only remembered as corpses. Sigma, of course, had to be there, and, well, more people than I was comfortable with.

Victor, Grace, Gary, Brian, and some of the classmates Ibira had made the announcement to.

I'm not sure what was more embarrassing, me not wearing a tux, and not having family present (okay, so maybe that's the non embarrassing part) or Ibira only wearing her harness.

An alien band played our music via hologram system. They sang religious wedding songs, which I found odd but comforting.

The sermonette, the words of institution, and the vows were on point, impressing me the seriousness of the rite. I took it serious before, especially with the baby, but now I had witnesses, and a solemn oath before God.

Naturally, neither I nor Ibira had rings.

Still, we did have an enduring symbol of betrothal to bestow. A...branding iron had been heated in a nearby fire.

We each bit down on a stick as Osmifa pressed the brand against our necks. I screamed through my teeth as the hot iron burned my flesh, but Ibira appeared to enjoy it.

Once branded, we kissed like any good newly married couple.

Well, not quite, as she had me trapped in her tusks, and four arms grabbed me around the waist and buttocks simultaneously.

The churchgoers threw rice, we cut a rather basic sort of cake, white with vanilla frosting, no tiers, dolls or anything, and then we had a dance to pre-recorded music.

I and Ibira held hands, strolling upstairs to Hydroponics.

She checked an electronic gadget attached to her harness, then laughed. "For a moment, I forgot that we had a time exemption for qualified religious observance."

It suddenly occurred to me that we had only dismissed for lunch, and we had been expected to continue training. In theory, at least.

"Wow. I forgot all about that. Training class, I mean."

"Yes," she purred as she wrapped an arm around my waist. "It is a lot to take in, isn't it?"

I took in the sights of the garden. "So you don't worship those gods and goddesses anymore?"

She shook her head. "None of my gods would ever be able to reverse time to make me fall in love with a man twice, maybe three times in a row. I think you have me beat."

I swallowed hard. "I suppose it is." I would have said, "That's a weird way of thinking about it," but I didn't want to offend.

And then I thought about it for a moment. "Three times?"

"Osmifa told me this may not have been the first time you've gone through this particular journey. That would make this the third time we've met, for the first time."

"I...suppose it would."

"So...I'm assuming you know something about the lesson they're going over right now?"

"Currency exchanges, I think. And more computer training."

She chuckled. "Sounds like I didn't miss anything. I did the same exact thing at my last job."

"PODS?"

She shook her head. "Encore."

I frowned. "It seems like everybody used to work for Encore."

Ibira shrugged. "Pretty much."

We wandered down the rows of corn and oats.

"Have you been in here?"

I replied, "A few times."

She pointed to the little creatures tending the plants. "Then I suppose you are familiar with the Ishuca."

"Great guys. I wonder if they would want to visit our church some time?"

One of them laughed at us. "Now here is a pairing I've never seen before! A Thark and a human! Love is a strange thing."

"Yes it is," I said. "It sure is."

Ibira grinned. It definitely helped to know my audience.

Without preamble or polite framing, she casually blurted, "Are you particularly adverse to providing me with a sperm sample?"

I blushed. "Like, literally? Like ejaculating into a cup?"

She nodded.

My blush turned deeper. "I don't think fertilizing yourself like that will it make it any less deadly to you."

Ibira touched her scar. "There was a reason I did this. Because I had hope for a cure. If you really love me, husband, then you will do this for me."

I nodded. "Gladly." Then I frowned. "But...how do you want me to do this?"

She stared at me in puzzlement.

"Do you want me to get a coffee mug, or...?"

I guess I was thinking she had found a special lab or something.

Ibira laughed. "No, no. Go down and see Sal. I've already spoken to her about it."

I swallowed. "You have?"

She gave me a nod.

"All right," I stammered. "But this is really, really embarrassing."

"Jason. Wouldn't you willingly risk embarrassment, if it meant saving someone else's life?"

"Yeah. You're right."

Sighing, I turned to face the exit. "Uh, be back in a few minutes. I guess."

Ibira grinned. "It sounds like, once we find the cure, we may need to work on lengthening your performance time."

Feeling hot around the ears, I muttered something in agreement, but the words didn't escape my lips.

I nodded bashfully to her, making my first uncomfortable steps toward the exit.

My face got more and more hot the closer I came to the medical bay.

Just the idea of doing this...in a medical setting...

Mind you, I've never done anything like a sperm bank before. The whole idea seemed a little wrong and weird to me.

I arrived at the little hospital, facing that perky red haired elf, her cheer so far lacking the taint of her boyfriend's pending death.

She grinned at me. "Hello. How can I help you?"

I blushed. "Ibira said she spoke to you."

She acted like she had done no such thing. "She did?"

The purple salamander thing snorted in amusement.

Frowning, I said, "She didn't...mention anything about...chromosomes?"

Sal furrowed her brow, pursing her lip. "I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure I follow..."

I groaned. "Look. Ibira and I just got married, and we want to make sure my sperm doesn't kill her, so she told me to go down here and give you a sample, so we can find some kind of cure, some kind of healthy way for us to have babies."

Sal burst out laughing. "Just teasing. I already knew what you were coming to see me for. I just wanted to hear you try to say it."

My ears felt like they were on fire. "All right, but this is serious. If you put my stuff in a petri dish with her cells in it, you'll see how serious and deadly it is."

Sal frowned. "She did say it may be fatal."

"AIDS fatal," I agreed.

She handed me a plastic cup from a cabinet. "Here. Go into the bathroom and...do your thing. Do you need a magazine or something?"

"What? No fancy gadgets?"

"Like a DVD?" she asked.

"No," I stammered. "I mean, like you had for the urine test."

"This isn't Sajon Dopa 5, where they rig you up like a stud horse with a padded rubber tube."

I winced. "Remind me to never go there."

She pointed to the bathroom. "I already have your wife's cells in the freezer. The sooner you're done, the sooner we can get to work."

So, well, I provided my sample.

It occurred to me that Ibira could have maybe facilitated this process, but I guess we wouldn't have gotten any in the cup.

"Is that all?" Sal asked me when I handed her the container.

"Seriously? You want me to do it some more?"

She snorted through her nose, rolling her eyes. "You have absolutely no sense of humor."

I sighed.

"If we need more, we'll let you know."

She glanced at my facial expression and chortled. "Don't act like it's such a chore. You're a guy. I'm sure you do it all the time."

"You have no tact."

"Hey. I'm a doctor. Comes with the territory."

Well, that was that.

I returned to garden, where I found Ibira sitting cross legged on a patch of dirt, meditating, I suppose. "Did you do it?"

My face flushed hot again. "Yeah. A little awkward, but I...yeah."

Ibira chuckled. "Good. I imagine this may take some time, but I will let you know if there's any progress."

She sighed. "You are a good man. I am happy to bear your ritual scarification."

I nodded. "Me too."

An Ishuca popped out from the dirt behind her. "This is your husband, Ibira?"

She smiled. "Yes. He is not a model male specimen, but he is quite handsome, don't you think?"

"He lacks tentacles. And he is a little too large."

"Yes. Perhaps that is why it is better that I married him than you. I find him very sexy."

The creature shrugged, offering me a baseball. "Would you like to have this?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll try not to throw it around here, where things can break."

"You sure?" the creature joked. "We could use an extra gardener."

I waved my hands dismissively. "I'm cool."

I'm not positive, but I think the Ishuca looked impressed that I understood. So did Ibira.

"If you see Robert, tell him the watermelons look great."

"Will do," I said.

I think that floored them, too. The fact that I knew about Robert and his sleepwalking probably shouldn't be common knowledge.

Ibira dusted herself off, leading me through the rice paddies.

"Have you ever been a host to a xotroc?" I asked her. "You know, brainwashed into gardening like a robot?"

She chuckled a little. "Once. When I was very young. Why?"

"So I guess they cured it."

Ibira shrugged both sets of shoulders. "I think the Ishuca died. Or perhaps I got out of range and it no longer affected me."

I frowned. "I see."

We had some free time to kill, so I decided playing catch would be as good as anything for occupying those moments...until we found that cure.

After throwing and catching the ball for a few minutes, something happened, and it bounced off the door frame of a nearby room, rolling inside...the chipmunk room.

The ball bounced off the rubber padded door. I might as well have knocked.

Still, I had faced worse threats, so I crept through the room like a catburglar trying to steal a diamond from a museum.

I knelt down close to the ball, leaning away from the door as I carefully extended one hand.

The moment I touched the ball, the door swung open, and three lingerie clad alien rodents appeared, the closest one clamping her hand down on mine with a giggle.

I froze, mentally preparing for the worst.

A furry hand grabbed my collar.

And then, all of a sudden, I was struck with a flash of recognition. The aqua colored hair. The red-yellow beak. The fetish for leather.

She babysat Paul.

"Mackelle?"

The creature recoiled in shock. "You know my name!"

But then she relaxed somewhat, smiling at me. "Who told? I believe someone deserves a referral credit."

She pulled me closer, breathing down my neck, ready to peck me with her beak or something, I suppose. "No matter. I suppose we'll have to make those arrangements later, won't we?"

And then she starts unbuckling my belt.

"I'm taken," I said.

Mackelle touched my scars. "I see."

I pushed her away again.

She frowned. "If you don't want what I have to offer, how do you know my name?"

"You babysat my child."

She burst out laughing.

Her mirth vanished when she saw my serious expression. "I have never babysat any of your children. I would remember if I did!"

I shook my head. "I guess you forgot."

Her eyes widened. "Wait! You're speaking my language and you don't have anything in your ear!"

I supposed I must have picked up the language by listening and saying things through the alien earwig, as incredible as it sounds. Just another perk of being a time traveler, I thought. "I'm a quick study."

She backed off in terror. "Get away from me! And take that horrible ball with you!"

The door slammed shut. Well, as much as you can slam a rubber door.

"Entertaining yourself?" Ibira said behind me.

"More or less," I muttered. "Remind me to never ask for Makelle when we need babysitting services."

She wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder. "I love a man who plans ahead."

I offered her the ball.

As we tossed it back and forth down the hallway, Ibira said, "My team is going out to restore the U.S. Bank building back to working order. I was wondering if you wanted to join us."

"Why wouldn't I? You're my wife. I want to go everywhere with you."

She grinned. "I'll tell Victor immediately."

We played catch for a few more moments, then kissed goodnight. It was nice to think that what we were doing was more or less perfectly acceptable in a moral sense.

With a bashful grin, I left her, returning to crew quarters.

When I entered my room, the lights had been off. I made it to my bunk by way of feel, and the faint light from the doorway.

I crawled into the empty bottom bunk below Rick, closing my eyes for a few moments, but I didn't get to rest that much.

Just as I began to enter REM sleep, I heard a loud buzzing next to my face.

I groggily opened my eyes, then flinched as I saw a glowing wasp darting around my nose.

Glancing around, I saw the room was filled with a sea of glowing blue wasps, like a nest had been placed below my bed.

"All right, everybody!" Snake yelled from the top of the bed across from me. "Everybody! Wake up, but do not move! Remain perfectly still! The stings from this insect have a hundred percent fatality rate! Stay sharp, stay cool!"

"Jesus!" Rick cried from the top bunk. "It's right on my face!"

"Do not move, Mr. Kuchinski! You do not, I repeat, do not want to move, under any circumstances!"

And then one of the insects landed on my nose. Deadly glowing wasps with one hundred percent fatality rates.

We were going to die. I was sure of it.

"Mr. Finch," Snake called from the other bunk. "Is there something you need to tell me? Like, I don't know, anything. Like why the fuck every time I see you, something's always popping out of nowhere and trying to kill us?"

"Let's just say I pissed off the guy that runs this planet," I said. "Did anyone see me get up in the night? Maybe sleepwalk a little?"

"Whoa! Hold on!" Snake cried. "Are you saying you've been doing espionage in your sleep?"

"I...don't know."

"Maybe we should throw you outside," said Rick.

"Not without a Bazrok," I said.

"You should have thought about that before you put these wasps in our room!"

Ignoring him, I said, "So what do we do?"

"I've heard they can be soothed by music," said a fat guy on another bed. "Anyone got a phone handy?"

"I'm not sure these bugs will like my ringtone," Snake muttered.

"I've heard about one guy who repelled them by playing the Fugs' Hare Krishna song on loop."

"Hell," said Snake. "That'll drive anyone out of the room!"

"Really? Because they've done worse songs. Knock, Knock, Knock, Aphrodite Mass, Chicago, The Belle of Avenue A..."

"Man, I don't care! Just fucking play something so we can get out of here and fumigate."

"Speaking of which," I said. "Couldn't someone just speed dial the main office or something?"

"You're just going to get voicemail. You need radio to actually get someone in a hurry."

Snake paused. "Hold on. Let me see if I can get the radio without stinging my ass."

Suddenly I heard the Hare Krishna song. The music did not seem to affect the bugs at all.

"Well there goes that theory."

"I think these hornets are more of the annihilationist type," Rick joked.

"I don't know if I should be happy or scared that you have that song on your phone," Snake said.

"It's only an emergency precaution," said the fat guy. "It's really not my thing."

"Sure it isn't," Rick mocked. "I've seen you in that orange robe before."

"You really need to stop smoking jungle plants, Rick."

The music kept playing over and over.

Snake pushed something in his pocket, and I heard a chirp.

"Yo! Hey! A little help please!" he shouted.

"What's wrong?" I heard Victor's muffled voice saying.

"Will you get an exterminator down here? Bunch of blue glowing wasps! Might potentially kill us!"

"How'd they get in?"

"Shit, man! I don't know! Finch pissed off someone he shouldn't have, or maybe let them in in his sleep! That's all I can tell you!"

A static filled pause answered him.

Victor mumbled something, but it got drowned out by the Fugs' ringtone.

"Man, will you shut that shit off!" Snake shouted. "I can't hear myself think!"

The music stopped.

At last, after a long period of silent crackling, Victor said, "I'll try to get someone. Be over there ASAP."

"These things taste like paper," the fat guy muttered.

"Oh my God!" Snake cried. "Don't eat the damn things! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"My tongue can extend three feet. I regularly eat flies, cockroaches and non-poisonous mud daubers, bees and hornets."

"Better you than me," Snake laughed. "You'd better pray to God it doesn't kill you."

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?"

I watched with amazement as the guy opened his mouth, flashed out his frog's tongue, and sucked down several wasps in a matter of seconds.

We thought we were doing good until the guy suddenly choked and fell off his bunk.

The swarm went after him, stinging his body over and over.

"Doug!" Rick cried.

A second later, a squatty female figure appeared in the doorway with a large silver can.

"Everyone hold your breath!" she yelled.

A foul smelling gray fog wafted into the room, dropping the wasps on contact.

The moment I saw the ones around my bed disappear, I jumped out, dashing into the hallway.

"Trashy, you are a livesaver!" Snake said as he hurried out after me.

I was about to leave, but the guy grabbed my arm. "Unless you want to go into toxic shock, you'd best get down to the medical lab and be checked out for poisoning...or stings."

"Doug!" Trashy called as she stepped into the room. "Oh no..."

Rick and Trashy dragged the man out into the hallway.

I watched the two carry him down to the medical bay, placing him on one of the beds.

Sal busied herself with pumping various drugs and chemicals into him, in attempts to reverse the toxin, but she seemed to be doing it halfheartedly, like she already knew it was too late.

In the meantime, the purple lizard made each of us breathe into a device, then, after he examined it for a few moments, gave us each a pill, and in the case of a couple of guys from the back of the room, were given oxygen.

One of the guys, named Manuel Santiago, was pronounced dead from the stings, and we would have a funeral soon.

"We're still working on your cure," the reptile said to me.

"That's cool," I said. "No hurry, I guess."

"I wish you the best of luck. Ibira has been very irritable as of late. I really think a man like you, that loves her for who she is, will...be good for her."

I think he meant to say something about forcing her to settle down, but didn't want to say it.

I left there, curling up on the sofa in the break room upstairs.

I dreamed about being a Tamtiwa, swimming alone at the beach. When I awoke, I found myself duct taped naked to the couch, my clothing duct taped to the armrest. It seemed someone had noticed my antics.

I didn't wake up in time for my breakfast or lesson or anything. After my shower, I found myself in an empty cafeteria with all the food put away.

Osmifa was cleaning dishes in back. I explained my predicament to her.

She checked her watch, then handed me one of those metal flasks we use for soda pop. "This is a meal replacement shake. You don't look like the type that needs to go on a diet, so this is a regular."

Thanking her, I cracked it open and drank it on the way to my class.

It was a good thing I guzzled it, for when I brought the remaining one eighth of the container into the classroom, Vuembi took it away.

He was unhappy that I missed so much, but I explained my situation and said I knew a fair bit about what he taught in class anyway.

"I hope for your sake you're right, Mr. Finch."

I got let into class, as usual.

I missed the lecture on alien species, but that one was rather unimportant, because you familiarized yourself with them the moment you got on the phone.

Ibira winked at me as I came in, gesturing for me to sit next to her.

I motioned at Vuembi, nonverbally saying `I can't, he told me to sit here,' but she shrugged and touched her scar. In other words, `I'm your wife. What can he say?'

She persuaded a girl with a spotty face to move over, waving me to the empty chair.

I decided it best to do this sort of thing fast. I hurriedly seated myself, logging into the computer and pulling up lesson materials as quick as possible.

We went over corporate policy. Lots of dry, boring stuff, except for the part about slavery still being practiced on other planets. Ibira pretended to yawn and put her arm around me, like we were a couple in a movie theater, and I was the girl.

Mr. Stewart complained about how useless the information was, like before. While Vuembi was rebuked him, Ibira leaned close and muttered, "He'll see how useless that information is in a couple days."

I chuckled, though I probably wouldn't have gotten the joke if I hadn't traveled back in time.

We got some paperwork, did a computer module.

Ibira's arm remained around my shoulder. No one cared because she still had two hands free to work the computer.

When we came to the language lesson, Ibira's hand slid to my waist. I didn't mind that much, even when she occasionally grabbed my butt.

"How many of you are familiar with the Jandax?" the instructor asked.

I raised my hand. Ibira raised her third, the one opposite the one sliding into my pants.

"Mr. Finch?" Vuembi said with a look of disgust. "Please explain."

Ibira's hand moved from my pants to her tusk.

I cleared my throat. "It's a creature. It goes in your ear, and it helps you speak languages. It also hurts like hell, so make sure you ask for anesthetics."

Vuembi nodded. "That's essentially correct." He frowned at me as he examined my ear. "How do you know all this, when you don't even have one?"

I opened my mouth to make up an excuse, but Ibira spoke first. "Layoffs. He had one, then they had it surgically removed."

The instructor nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. That explains it."

Only a couple minutes later, Victor came into the room with said creature, with his gloves and goggles ready, attempting to stick it in my ear.

I held up a hand to block him. "Anesthetics, please!"

The little guy laughed and shook his head. "Shit! Good thing you reminded me!"

He stuck my ear with one of those long needles like they use at dentist's offices. The pain was searing, but it wasn't nearly as painful as the creature, and the numbing agent soon spread far enough around the area that I discovered my ear to be asleep and I couldn't hear anything on that side.

The creature bored its way in, which now felt more like a carpenter building a ship inside my ear canal rather than an alien beast burrowing into a sensitive auditory passage.

Victor tested me like usual. "Snaa pleihua? Chicelinhua?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. I understand you."

Of course, I couldn't really tell if it were the creature, or just me remembering what they had said last time when I had the creature in my ear.

I answered Vuembi the same way.

Victor moved on to the other students.

Noticing me scratching, Vuembi said, "If it bothers you, there are salves in the med lab."

I nodded.

We got our new employee names after that. I was `Beota,' of course. They gave us our work information, and we put on our scary headphones with the little creatures inside.

Vuembi sent me my first call. Again.

Mr. Glowing Jellyfish.

I treated the nonhuman `thing' with professionalism and respect, activating his special card with the courtesy you'd give any human being. It came second nature, after all the crap I went through the first time.

No mention of my marital scars. I figured they were still using a company logo instead of live video until they got me my uniform.

When the call ended, Vuembi clapped in approval. "That was wonderful, Jason! I didn't have to correct you once! It seems you must have worked in a place like this before! Nice work!"

I smiled a little. "Uh, thanks."

"I'm going to watch you do a couple more, and if your next calls are as impressive as this one, I might just move you out on the floor to do the real thing!"

I stared at him in shock. "...Great!"

Ibira smirked at me, then turned her attention to her own activation call.

I did okay on my next ones, since I knew what to expect already, so the instructor called someone to take over his class. He gestured for me to leave the room with him.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed about his overestimation of my abilities, I nervously followed him into the hall.

This had never happened before. I found it more than probable that I'd encounter something new and unexpected, something I wouldn't be able to handle, and then I'd be in an unfamiliar timeline, one where I could only make guesses and hope I was doing the right thing.

I told myself that this was how it was supposed to be, that it was going back to normal, but the normal made me nervous.

We arrived at the `call center' I usually did work in.

Instead of leading me to my usual booth, he took me to a different one, activating the program Dennis normally used to review my calls, except this one didn't display anything.

"Stay here." Vuembi typed something in the program. "I'm going to field a few calls, and I just want you to watch and learn from what I do."

He closed the door, leaving me to wait for something to happen.

A moment later, I saw a holographic version of Vuembi stepping in front of a console, opening up the communication system.

Run of the mill call. Retail sales with an alien. Big deal. I stared at him, heavy lidded, not exactly thrilled by the demonstration.

Suddenly, the door to Vuembi's drum slid open, and in marched a bony black man with a shaved head, clad in one of those ridiculous uniform dresses.

I'd never seen him before in my life, in any version of history.

I watched with horror as he drew a knife, stabbing Vuembi in the back. The alien collapsed on his computer.

Vuembi's customer, a sort of monkey with scales and a snake's head, began to clap. I guess he'd been under the impression that this was performance art.

Before I could do anything about this grisly scene, the door to my booth opened, and I got yanked out to the floor by my shirt collar.

The guy's build was slight and womanly, but when he hit me in the head, I thought I had been attacked by a heavyweight boxer.

"How's that, you little fucker?" he said in the voice of Mr. Jennings. "Like that?"

A couple knocks to the sides of my head, and I was out cold.