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a smooth rock wall, like at your cave, nor up
metal. I would have been safe in the shuttle then."
            "They can climb up grass blades. So only if all openings are completely sealed would they not get inside, but then you would suffocate for
lack of oxygen."
            "Not if the inside air is renewed by the recycling unit."
            "But the unit does not work, right?"
            "How do you know all that?" He was getting annoyed by her.
          "Because my father told me. Let’s go back up again."
            He was glad to reach the top of the rope and did not even mind his
sore arms. It felt safe up there. When he entered the cave, she offered him
another drink. Then she said: "I now show you where you can relieve
yourself."
            This had been on his mind since the night danger demonstration. How
had she guessed? She took him to the right side of the ledge and led him
down a narrow path that had a rope strung along the rock. About ten
yards on, right at the edge of the ledge, was a seat, which he recognized
as a hand-crafted wooden toilet seat, with a covered bucket underneath.
There was a slit cut into the bucket wall at the far side. From beyond the
ledge came the sound of trickling water.
           She removed the cover. "The liquid runs down into the gully and is
carried away by the water. I empty the solids about once a week for the
night scavengers to clean up."
            She pointed to a neat stack of broad leaves and said: "You rub those
between your hands and then they are like soft paper. You need to go
now?"
            He nodded. She inserted the end of the torch into a crack in the rock
wall and quickly disappeared up the path. When he returned, she was
spreading out a padded roll on the second alcove from the entrance. She
briefly glanced up and said: "You can wash your hands back there where
the water trickles from the ceiling. There is a hole on the right side for
the torch and soap is on the shelf next to it." She treats me like a little
child. But he was interested in the soap. He had never seen any, just
heard that it had been used centuries ago on Old Earth as the preferred
cleaning solvent.
          He picked up the brown bar. It had a pleasant smell. "How do I use
it?"
            "Wet your hands and turn it between your palms a few times. Use the
lather to rub your hands. There is a towel there too… You sleep here. I
sleep there. Tea is in the pan if you are thirsty." With that she walked out
onto the balcony.
          After drying his hand on the surprisingly soft woven towel, he
followed her, but she had disappeared. Maybe she went to the toilet too.
He waited, studying the night sky. The eastern edge of the ring was
beginning to catch light too, leaving the middle of the ring dark, blocking
out stars.
          When she did not return, he decided to test his sleeping pad. He took
off his protective outer clothing and stretched out. The padding only
offered minimal support, not like the body molding foam he was used to.
          What a strange woman! Such contradictions. Such aristocratic
features, but limping. Living in the stone age, but claiming to know about
electronics. And how she had bent those savages to her will. He replayed
again the way she foiled that vulture. That took courage. If he had had the
gun, it would have been so simple to incapacitate it. And what did she
mean she felt his terror? Was she an empath? Could she read his state of
mind? Was that the reason she knew his intention to snatch back the gun
and wacked him? Seemed to anticipate him? He suddenly felt uncomfortable, like having his thoughts stolen, his privacy invaded. What was he
going to do with her? Did she expect him to take her along when he left
this primitive planet? No, she doesn’t even believe that I’ll get off. And
that nonsense about electronics not working on this world. She seemed
to be very certain about that. But why did his watch