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larger items, and from what Cutler could tell, the sores were healing well, almost without scars. But, as Novakovich had told her, the sand was causing him the most problems. It had been phased into most of his exposed skin by the transporter, and the only thing Dr. Phlox had been able to do was say that the sand would take care of itself.
    "Skin has a way of healing itself," Novakovich had told Culter when she'd expressed surprise at his appearance.
    The problem with the sand was that the skin was healing itself by forming pimples around the sand particles and expelling them as whiteheads. (Sand heads? She didn't dare ask, even as a joke.) In all her years, Cutler had never seen such a bad case of acne as Novakovich had. She figured he could use an escape. And he had happily agreed to join the game.
    Mayweather came back from dumping his dinner dishes and sat down. "So when do we get this adventure under way?"
    For a moment, Cutler thought he was referring to the real planet and the adventure that awaited them. Then he grabbed his padd and sat in his spot at the table. He meant the Martian adventure, of course.
    Anderson left the window and walked back to the table. Novakovich was already seated, studying the weapons information that Anderson had given him during dinner.
    "We've got to get Novakovich here a character, first," Cutler said.
    Anderson sat down. "I hope yours is less mediocre than mine," he said to Novakovich.
    "How come Alex can't use Hoshi's character?" Mayweather asked.
    "She might want to rejoin the game at some point," Cutler said. "Besides, it's RPG protocol to roll your own characters."
    Mayweather sighed. He clearly wanted to start doing something-inside the adventure game or outside on the planet.
    "So," Cutler said to Novakovich, "what's your character's name?"
    "Rust," Novakovich said.
    "Short for Rusty?" Anderson asked.
    "Nope," Novakovich said. "Just Rust. Used to have a dog by that name."
    "You might not want an emotional attachment to your character," Cutler said as she handed him the bolts.
    "Why not?" Novakovich asked.
    "Sometimes characters don't survive adventures."
    "I was wondering why we didn't roll a resurrection number," Mayweather said. He was clearly joking.
    "In some games you do roll for a number of lives or resurrections," Cutler said. "But those are fantasy role-playing games."
    "Yeah," Anderson said, grinning, "and our game is so clearly based in reality."
    Cutler smiled. "Let's see who Rust is."
    Novakovich dumped the bolts on the table. This time the clatter was muffled by the towel. Cutler was pleased. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle the sound of metal bolts rolling on a hard tabletop, roll after roll.
    Novakovich rolled six red bolts for strength, and nine for intelligence. His charisma came out a dismal three, his dexterity a nine, and his luck a whopping two.
    "I don't know who has the worse character, me or you," Anderson said. "Mine is stunningly mediocre, but yours is either bad or good at what he has."
    "I think he's typical," Mayweather said. "A smart guy who can't get a girl to save his life."
    "Some women like smart men," Cutler said, glancing at Anderson, then looking away. But not before Mayweather caught the look.
    "I'm crushed," he said softly, so that only she could hear.
    "You're a smart guy," Novakovich said, oblivious of the undertones.
    "Oh?" Mayweather said, turning his teasing tone on Novakovich. "Are you saying I can't get a girl either?"
    Novakovich shook his head. "Are we ready to play yet or not?"
    "Ready," Cutler said. She decided to refresh them all, since she couldn't remember what she'd told Novakovich. "Here's what you are facing. You have to get a Universal Translator part from a building in the center of the old ruined city. You have landed on the edge of a Martian canal. There are dangerous creatures in the canal, a small boat tied to the shore, or an old bridge."
    "Are we working together on this mission?" Novakovich asked.
    Cutler