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it a holiday—it has been quite a time since we’ve had one.”
    Holiday! Squealing, rattling, rutting, groaning, grunting porcuswine forever . . . I had fought so long to leave the farm and the chuntering swine behind me. I was not going back.
    “Never!” I cried aloud. “I escaped that life once—I can’t go back!”
    “Understandable,” she said coolly, taking a small sip of her drink. “I do share your feelings. Perhaps it is too much of a good thing—like sweet little Pinky.”
    I shuddered—did I hear a rustle of quills?!
    “But we must see that these people and their charges are settled in. Then, and you have my promise, we will say bye-byeand go on a relaxing holiday.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek.
    Disarmed, outfought on all fronts, helpless. I raised the white flag.
    “Put the house in stasis. It will be so nice to come home to . . .”
    “I agree. Now, how should we pack?”
    “Congratulations,” James said. Placing a thick folder of papers on the table before me. “You are now the proud owner of the spacer
Rose of Rifuti
.”
    “Change the name.” I heard myself say as from a great distance.
    “To the
Porcuswine Express
!” Angelina said, and there were cheers of happy agreement. Behind them I saw Rifuti stumbling away; he turned and shook his fist in our direction, then left.
    What would the future hold? I had no idea.
    But I had some very strong and vile intuitions. Could there be a way to escape this desperate and tragic situation?

CHAPTER 6
     
    I wriggled on the hook.
    “It will not be easy to get this ship ready. It will be impossible here on Moolaplenty to find a qualified captain . . .”
    Kirpal smiled widely and white-toothedly at me. “You will be overjoyed, erstwhile employer Jim, to hear that I am a qualified and expert spacer pilot. I look forward to taking the helm of this soon-to-be-greatly-improved vessel.”
    “But the comm officer quit. Impossible to replace . . .”
    “Already done! In my CV you will find my licenses, experiences and so forth as a qualified communications officer.”
    By now I was grasping for straws.
    “You’ll need a crew—”
    “Only by law, as the previous captain showed with his alcoholic layabouts. The ship is fully automated. To satisfy the bureaucrats we can enlist some of your farmers. Sign them on as crew for the records.”
    Charming. A spacegoing sty manned by moronic yokels.
    “Qualified off-planet spacer inspectors have already been engaged and are on the way here,” Kirpal added before I could think of any more excuses. “Needed repairs will be made soonest.”
    “Kirpal and I will handle everything,” James said. “Just do your packing and relax. And be prepared for the trip of a lifetime.”
    That’s just what I was afraid of. My head vibrated as my sinaphone began ringing. In a moment of madness I had discarded my pocket phone and had this new gadget implanted in my sinus. Powered by body heat it would operate for decades. But I had to have the ringing tone turned down. Still in shock I muttered
on
and Angelina’s voice rattled inside my head.
“I told everyone the good news and they are all celebrating.”
Her voice was almost drowned out by the happy cries, clinking glasses, swinish squealing.
“They want to thank you . . .”
    “I am overwhelmed but too shy to face them. And I must rush—my computer has reported finding a possible planet for our pilgrims. I have to follow up the lead . . .”
    Beating back all protests, I muttered
off,
indulged in a few moments of whining self-pity.
    “Enough, Jim,” I muttered after sadistically enjoying my own misery. I shook myself by my metaphorical neck. “Find the planet, transport these rube relatives and their porcine charges there, bid them all bye-bye and get on with your life. Think how pleasurable this pleasure planet will look upon your return.”
    I skulked through the corridors to avoid all contact and endless excuses. Exited and smiled at the