He completed the building codes and punched the squid to action. Stamp…stamp…stamp, stamp, stamp. It huzzzed away on tractor-tread feet.

Zagaramendo went back to her. “Look…”

“I don’t want to talk about it any more.”

“Margret, look, we’ve got a chance here, please try to be reasonable.”

She turned on him. “Bob, this isn’t what I call a chance…this isn’t what I call a main chance to save our marriage.”

“Three years, Mar—”

“Being a prisoner for three years is no damned chance, Bob! You lied to me, you said we’d have a new start, somewhere. This isn’t somewhere, it’s nowhere!”

Behind them the squid was laying the foundation for their cabin. “Bob, this, here—!”

“Margret—!”

Already, around them, the squid had half completed their front yard.

The first of the Saquettes made their appearance during the fifth week of their Observership. At first there was only a scrambling and scurrying in the grass, then one or two peered out from the tall reed-like stems, and Margret moaned with a mixture of wonder and terror.

Zagaramendo went to them and looked down. They were round and small. Moles with soft blue fur? Not quite, but close enough. Their bright eyes blinked up at him and their candy chocolate noses trembled.

“They’re ugly,” Margret said, behind him. They were. They had everything cute going for them, but in totality they were repulsive. Zagaramendo sighed. “Go get in the cabin,” he told her. “I’ll tend to this.” When she didn’t move, he pivoted on his heel, crouching there, and shouted at her. “G’wan, get the hell out of here…make me something to eat!”

She gave him the smile that meant loathing, and went into the cabin. Zagaramendo turned back to the Saquettes.