discipline, responsibility, glory, adventure and victory. Moralities need not have as their object the pacification and taming of men; they may also have as their object their heroism and greatness. To be sure, there are many other possibilities, as well, in such matters. One might accept a morality on authority, for example, one of the numerous moralities purportedly handed down by one god or another, who seem concerned, on the whole, to tell their respective priesthoods what they wish to hear. Another obvious possibility is to accept the morality of one’s milieu, as absurd as it may be. This possibility is popular with the ignorant, the simple, and the stupid. Another possibility, of course, is to pretend to accept the morality of one’s milieu, as absurd as it may be. This possibility is popular with the informed, the complex, and the wise.
Brenner regarded her.
She had lifted her head then and Brenner saw that there were tears in her eyes.
“Very well,” said Brenner. “I will stay the night.”
“You will take pity on me?” she said, hopefully.
“Yes,” he said.
“As a male upon a female?”
“If you like,” he said.
“Thank you!” she said, delightedly. “Thank you!”
“Do not approach more closely!” he warned her.
“Yes, sir!” she said.
He was not certain he could trust himself.
She leaned back, on her heels, happily. How beautiful, how sexual, she seemed!
He glanced uneasily at the large, soft bed.
“Oh, the bed is yours, of course!” she said. “I am often slept beside it, naked, on the floor. I would request a sheet, if I might, to cover myself, if you deign to grant it to me.”
He regarded her.
“I am often slept there,” she said, “when my contract holder’s client is finished with me, at least for the time. Then, later, perhaps as he awakens refreshed, he may order me again to his side.”
“And you are naked?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “In that way I am more convenient for the guest. He need not strip me.”
“Dreadful,” said Brenner, shuddering. On the other hand, he had to admit that the thought of her there, lying there on the floor, beside the bed, naked, perhaps under a sheet, summonable to his side in the night or early morning, was not without its appeal.
“Many women,” she said, “are not even permitted the dignity of the couch.”
“I see,” said Brenner.
“May I rise to my feet?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said.
There was a tiny sound of the disk against the chain. Brenner was curious to see that device more closely, but he did not call this to her attention.
She went to the door and checked it, to make certain, apparently, that Brenner had locked it from the inside. Then she stood there, with her back to the door, smiling, and her hands behind her, leaning back against the door. Her hands might have been cuffed behind her, Brenner thought. She looked at him, happily. “Thank you for remaining the night,” she said.
Brenner shrugged.
“You have not finished your liqueur,” she pointed out.
He lifted the tiny glass and stood up. He approached to where, now wide-eyed, she stood by the door.
Her shoulders were very white, and soft, and well set off by the yellow of the silk. Her hands, behind her, drawing her shoulders back, accentuated her figure, excitingly, subtly. Brenner supposed that women were sometimes tied in that fashion, for such a purpose, in slave markets.
“You may have half of it,” he said.
“No!” she said.
“Please,” he said.
“I have not had anything like that since I have been on contract,” she said.
“Please,” he said.
She drew her hands from behind her back and took the tiny glass, looking up at him. She steadied her right hand with her left. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then, carefully, she drank a little less than half of the ruby-colored beverage. “Thank you,” she said, again, handing him back the glass.
Brenner finished it, and put the glass back on the table. He then turned to look at her again, she standing by the door. The palms of her hands were now back, at her sides, against the door. “It was not too good, was it?” she smiled. “No,” said Brenner.
“This is Company Station,” she said.
Brenner grinned.
“But I loved it,” she said. “You are very kind. Thank you.”
Brenner shrugged.
“Little things mean much to us,” she said. “Some men give us a candy, or a pastry, in a wrapper.”
Brenner nodded.
“Generally we are fed only with mush or gruel,” she said. “The zard has read of diets for us.”
“I see,” said Brenner.
“For which,” she said, “we are muchly