if searching for somebody chasing Mwili. "Got into trouble, hey?
Somebody after you?"
Mwili nodded again. He found his voice. To his disgust, it cracked when he spoke. "Y-yessir."
The fat man's smile reappeared. "I see you are interested in my ship. Well, it's not my ship exactly, but I am First Officer, so I have some clout on the Achilles ."
Mwili felt his hope soar.
"You look like a sweet boy who could use a lift off of this dusty hole, that right?"
"Yessir," Mwili said.
The fat man moved closer, so that he was only a few centimeters away from Mwili. The boy felt a strong urge to turn and run, but he held his ground. After a beat, the man reached up and stroked the side of Mwili's face with one smooth hand. Mwili felt his stomach churn. The man was kjere! One of God's worst sins, to be kjere , right up there with Murder and Blasphemy. He had heard that such men existed in plenty on other worlds, that it was not considered a sin or even particularly immoral, but he had never seen one, much less met one. Mwili had yet to know his first woman, and here was a man touching his face like a wife. He felt his stomach roil, acid bubbling up into his throat. He swallowed the hot taste.
The fat man's grin spread wider, as he let his hand slide down to cup first Mwili's tight shoulder, then the hard muscle of his chest. "Oh, my," the man said, his face going slack, his eyes widening. "You're a strong one, aren't you?"
Mwili held his voice. He started to shake nervously.
"Come on," the fat man said. "Come with me to the ship. We're going to be great friends, you and I. All the way to Krishna. Two glorious months, with a week on Kalk, too. I can get you past the Confed owls, leave it to me."
For a moment, Mwili almost jerked his arm away from the sweaty grip of the fat man and ran, disgusted with what he knew would happen if he went with him. But only for a moment. He thought of his father, then, and the strap and the long years that lay ahead if he stayed on Cibule.
"What's your name?" the fat man asked.
Mwili glanced back at the fence, fearing he'd see his father standing there, gripping the mesh, calling God's curses down upon his son's evil head. There was no one there, though.
"Your name?"
Mwili turned back to look at the fat man. "Ferret," he said. "Call me Ferret."
He followed the fat man toward the ship, and escape. In this case, he would rather chance the devil he didn't know than the one he did.
Five
FERRET COULDN'T REMEMBER clearing the boxcar lanes. He'd told Stoll the story, about his father, about running away, and suddenly it seemed they were in Deep, coming up on a point far enough away to shift into Bender drive. Three more days, and they'd be back in the Tau System, back on Shiva's third moon, Vishnu. Back with Shar Li Vu Ndamase, the most beautiful woman on the moon, if not in the system, and leading star of the erotic dance circuit.
"You never went back?" Stoll said, interrupting his thoughts of Shar.
Ferret brought his mind back to the ship. "Went back? No. Why? My parents had their farm, they didn't really need me."
"Time changes things. You aren't a sixteen-year-old boy anymore."
"No," Ferret said, chuckling, "now I'm a thief and smuggler. I'm sure my parents would be proud. My father would probably either sic the Confed cools on me or turn purple and drop dead of a stroke." He found a small grin. "Now there's a pleasant thought."
"You aren't curious?"
Ferret stared at the viewscreen. Curious? Yes. He wondered at times. About his mother, mostly, but also about his father. The old man would be pushing seventy-five. Had he changed any? Not likely, but it was possible. How were he and God getting along these days? How had Baba ever figured out that I was running that last night on Cibule?
"Not enough to go back," Ferret said.
"Suit yourself."
After that, Stoll said no more about it. That was fine with Ferret.
Vishnu was not an export world; it produced nothing of intrinsic value that could
London Casey, Ana W. Fawkes