her hands, in their linked bracelets. Then, too, she had looked well, lying on her side, looking up at him. And he thought, too, of other women he had seen, perhaps even casually on a conveyance or on a street, or known, from one place or another, and wondered what they, too, might have looked like in various situations, and attitudes, not in their mannish garbs designed to protect their personness, as though it would much need protection on the home world, of course, but in snatches of cotton or shreds of silk. And when they ascended the block, of course, they would be permitted not even so much. How well they served! And their glances, how soft, how shy, how timid. And that one, did she not dance? Brenner turned in the webbing, trying to force these thoughts from his mind. It seemed their whispers were about him, almost inaudible, tiny, plaintive whispers requesting attention. He scarcely dared to open his eyes lest he should seem to see them, shadowy in the darkness. Were they there? It almost seemed he might feel their touch. He turned in the webbing. He was in misery. He chastised himself mercilessly. How could he, a modernist and a lifest, have such thoughts? And had he not actually known some of these women, as fellow students, as colleagues, and such? How then could he conceive of them thusly, as though they might be naught but Naxian property girls, owned as much as a dog or a pig on Chios? But Rodriguez, he supposed, angrily, would have taken it all in his stride, and, indeed, got what he wanted from them, and more. Then doubtless he would have sold them, before returning to the home world. It would not do, of course, to bring in such merchandise, not to the home world. Then, failing to rid himself of these thoughts by various acts of will, requiring one degree or another of heroism, he hit upon another tack, and simply ordered the women from his presence. Clearly some were reluctant to leave, but none, it seemed, dared consider disobeying. Brenner found that of interest. Brenner now lay quietly in the webbing. He was on a company ship. He was alone in his cabin. Shortly thereafter he went to sleep. To be sure, the women returned in his sleep, to kneel, to serve, to be near him. The directress was amongst them, but her place was farther back. Brenner saw that one of the women, a brunette, in a bit of silk that did not more than scorn the pretense that she was a person and not a female, rose to her feet and approached him. She leaned over the webbing. In the darkness her body seemed pale. About her throat was a tiny, closely linked chain, with an attached plate, bearing her name, a single, simple name, and her number. Her lips were about to touch his. Then, suddenly, frightened, angrily, in a cold sweat, he awakened. Shortly thereafter he went back to sleep. He was awakened once more that night, but by the roar of a great savage beast. The roar echoed about the ship. He had heard it before, on other watches. It emanated from a cage, or containment, not far away.
Then Brenner went back to sleep.
Chapter 3
“I need a drink,” said Rodriguez.
The mud in most places was more than ankle deep on the unpaved streets of Company Station. Here and there a few boards, wet and slick in the muck, were laid end to end, of which boards Brenner, as he could, took advantage. Rodriguez, wading from point to point, with Euclidean methodicality, availed himself of these boards only as they might be so fortunate as to lie in such a way as to be coincident with his independently elected path. This was perhaps not irrational as there were clearly limits to the amount of mud which could adhere to a single pair of boots and trousers. Brenner, who had fallen twice already, was covered with mud. So, too, was the valise he carried. Inside his boots, it was like wading within wading. Every time he put his foot down, it forced water to the sides and over his foot, which water, as he lifted his foot, eddied back to the insole. A light drizzle, having succeeded a harder rain, was still falling.
“Let’s check in at Company Hostel,” said Brenner, slipping, regaining his balance.
“That’s not the sort of bar I’m looking for,” said