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rubber tip at
the end of the cane, removed it. Tapped the floor with the metal
end, watched the entrance to the sleeping section.
    A shadow stirred, peered at him, grew
paler as it moved from the back room. Its fluid hulk avalanched
toward him. The Ming-thraw skittered around their tiny enclosure,
like a happy dog, nearly knocking him off balance. She stopped in
front of him, quiet, patient.
    Large, moist eyes, intelligent, budding
delicately from her slender head, two dark beautiful worlds this
gentle countenance betrayed her internal battering. But there were
other signs. A crusty rim formed around her eyes. Her milky fur,
soured with dark yellow stains. This station, and the others like
it, were too small, too warm, her kind was meant for frost and
chillier settings; he'd known the travel would be hard on her. But
only she could single out her infant.
    He extracted the tiny Ming-thraw from
his pocket, pushed its button, placed it in her hair, near the
single swell that was her breast.
    The creature clawed blindly through her
fur, then fell, thumped to the floor. She fled back to the shadows.
He retrieved the Koalakin, turned it off and brought it in to
her.
    She'd squeezed under his sleeping
bench, forearms over her head, covering her eyes. Sorrow and
despair. He knew. He slid down the wall, sat close and stroked her
head. With the cane, he tapped the wall above the sleeper,
explained in taps, and bangs and scratches that removed the paint,
why he couldn't obtain all the infant Ming-thraws. That she'd seen
them all, there were no more for him to bring to her, that he
didn't know where else to look.
    He didn't tell her what the search had
cost him. That he had just enough cash to get her home.
    He left to return the stolen Koalakin
and arrange for her departure.
    At the duty free things had changed. A
security officer, dressed in blue, strapped with vest and holster,
played with the adjustment on her helmet. She stood just outside
the entrance, nodded to him as he went in. The crystal shelf now
seemed impossibly far, the clerk a moat he couldn't cross. He
left.
    And took the long way home.
    When he got back, his place was empty,
still damp with the Ming-thraw's cinnamon odor. He knew where she’d
gone.
     
    Several people mostly station personnel
in brown coveralls and tan canvas shoes, crowded outside the duty
free.
    Inside, the Ming-thraw was down,
sprawled against the shiny ebony; snow on jet. The blue guards let
him through. He got down beside her. The Koalakins lay scattered
like pieces of herself. She still clutched one of the dead infants.
He pulled it away, examined it.
    "You its owner?" the woman security
officer asked. "We had a report that one of these was wanderin'
around here. Someone's phoned transportation for a
stall."
    The Ming-thraw looked at him. Black
skin rimmed her slack, quivering mouth. She shuddered, was still.
"She's died," he said, slumping over her, resting his head on the
warm fur. "She's died." The Koalakin slipped from his
fingers.
    "It's not dead," the guard said,
placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She helped him up. The
stall had arrived.
    The two guards helped lift the
Ming-thraw into the shipping crate.
    "Where're you taking her?" he asked,
bewildered.
    "Shipping her Earthside," said one of
the men, maneuvering the large red, styroacrylic box. One end had
bars on the door.
    The stall barely fit through the duty
free's entrance.
    Earth . He
repeated the name silently.
    "It's been done before," the man
continued. “A male, big bastard, walked into the meteor warning
station on Alpha Mil. We caught it. Sent it Earthside. They'll be
excited 'bout her. No offense, ol'man, but she'll be safer there.
They'll release her into the Arctic. The whole planet's a bloody
wildlife preserve. Out here she's fair game. Might be killed or
captured for a pet. She's gonna live another hundred years or more.
You're not so young."
    "I should go. I've lived with her. I
communicated with her. I could tell