Steve Roswell is quickly met once they reach the spaceport; he's an average man, in almost every conceivable way. He's of average height, has brown hair, and is clean-shaven. He's wearing a little brown bowler hat and a very smart suit and has a spaceport trolley containing three large suitcases. He's about as easy to spot in a crowd as a particular piece of hay in a haystack.

Fortunately, Spot stands out rather a lot, and thus Steve finds them. "Good morning, fellas. A robot that looks like a cross between a basketball and an octopus, and a really big guy. You must be Wilshire and Spot, am I right? My name's Steve. Steve Roswell. How do you do?" He holds out a hand to shake.

*Before they actually left, Spot made sure arrangements were made to look after the sleeping humans and to tell Master Bates about his new award. That done...*

Spot replies "Good morning, Mr. Roswell." Spot will shake the hand if directly offered, otherwise not.

The sleeping team members are left in the care of Professor Barnes (released from jail as soon as he'd had a chance to sleep it off), and the medal is left for Mr. Bates.

--------------

"Call me Steve, fella." Steve has a firm grip and a level gaze... though he doesn't seem quite certain where Spot's eyes are, so he levels his gaze instead at approximately Spot's centre of mass. "Shall we be on our way? No particular reason to hang about here when we've got a ship to catch, right?"

Spot asks "How am I traveling this time? As cargo or passenger?"

"Private ship, fella." Steve glances nervously at the main doors. "You can go whichever way you prefer. I'd pick 'passenger', myself. Come on, let's be on our way."

Spot starts towards the ship. "So, you're traveling for reasons of 'health' as well..."

"Well, you could say so." says Steve, strolling along with Spot. "Just a little misunderstanding, really, nothing serious." He won't say any more about it until they are on the ship.

--------------

The ship is fairly bare and utilitarian; it is evidently intended to go from A to B with a maximum of speed and a minimum of comfort. There's a well-stocked first aid kit and a galley; there's also a mini-bar for Spot to refuel in. There's a set of bunkbeds, and toilet facilities for those travellers who require them. There's also a nice, impressive communications array, with a screen that takes up an entire wall. There isn't a pilot, as such; the entire ship appears to run purely on automated navigation tapes (there is a set of manual controls, which are not plugged in). The automatic system is not local, and seems to be quite competent at avoiding those few obstacles that one might run into in deep space. As soon as all three people are aboard, the ship takes off smoothly; it handles all the necessary communication with the ground crews (very little) and obeys its lane assignment.

"And we're off." says Steve, watching Rigel vanish into the distance behind them. "Should we call up this 'Man' now for those details, or is there something else you'd like to discuss first?"

While poking around the systems, Spot replies "What did The Man tell you about the two of us?"

"Physical descriptions. A small round robot with lots of tentacles and a big strong guy. That you, the small round robot, won't suddenly go Singularity on us, though beats me how he can be so sure. That the two of you have met this Radcliffe fellow before. That's all." Steve shrugs. "That's about all. I asked a few more questions, and he said it wasn't his place to answer them."

Spot pauses in it's examination. "My system is incapable of hosting a Singularity. I am like you in that way; we can both learn, but neither of us will become a god doing it. Are you comforted now?"

"Quite frankly, I don't believe a computer program can do half the stuff The Man thinks it can do in any case." replies Steve, sitting on a handy chair. "Sure, you get some smart robots, but you get smart humans too, right? I'm in this strictly 'cause I'm being paid to be in this - the way I see it, I'm being paid to prevent something that's impossible in any case, so I get paid no matter what happens, and regular transportation to new planets is a pretty neat perk, too."

"You might be right about the innate abilities of the actual AIs." Spot takes goes back to poking around, and adds: "However, I have some experience with Singularity created technology. So I am willing to believe that they really did do much of what The Man accuses them of, even if they did it with tools instead of by act of will." It points a tendril at Steve, and adds "Deus ex Machina is still a Deus, or so it looks to me."

"Deus ex machina?" asks Steve. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with the term. What do cards have to do with anything?"

"It means 'god by machine'. Which is either a sign of bad play writing, or it means that If your machines are formidable enough you look like a god. I've seen both versions in different places."

Spot pauses and then continues "I meant the second definition. I've never seen a Singularity written play. Just some machines."

"Machines are only as good as the hand holding them." says Steve, with a dismissive shrug. "We'll be fine. It's probably good to hear what the boss has to say about where we're going, though."

Steve starts fiddling with the communication equipment, looking for the Man's contact details.