Space Inc (anthology)

Ferret and Red by Josepha Sherman

Ferret, flat as she could get in the narrow engine tubing, swore under her breath. It was hot and airless in here, and her sleek brown fur was plastered to her skin, and picking up interesting stains despite the coveralls. Yes, and if one of the humans did something stupid, like accidentally hitting the start-up button before her partner, Red Collins, could stop him, she was one fried Ferret.

Don’t think about that. Don’t think about anything. Trust Red and just get the skelking job done.

Ferret’s real name was much longer and more complicated, listing as it did her clan and family as well as her own use-name, but all that tended to be too much for anyone not of her own species to manage. Some human had once dubbed her “Ferret,” and even after she found out what an Earth ferret was, she’d had to admit that her species really did bear a resemblance to bipedal ferrets.

No matter names. She really did like her job as part of Station Alpha’s mech crew: meet new species, see new ships and equipment that needed to be puzzled out, work—and drink, yes—with Red, her human partner for three station-years now, Red, who was a good mech with a sense of humor as wry as her own—

Yeek, yes, all enjoyable except for jobs like this. Once the starfaring humans had colonized the world they’d christened York (apparently a nostalgic name for their home world, which most had never seen), and built this station/dry dock (silly name: space was never wet) to orbit it, of course mechanics had been needed. Once you had interworld contacts, you needed mechs even more, because then you had trade.

Yes, and once you had trade, there were always going to be scruffy independents like the crew of this ship, living off whatever scraps of contracts they could snag that were too small for the big companies.

And cutting costs wherever costs can be cut. Must rankle them to have to pay mech fees. Be more careful, silly humans, have no need for mechs.

One arm stretched out in front of her as far as it would go, she groped blindly with the long seizing-talon of her forefinger, touching composite, composite…

Yes! Just as she’d guessed, something had gotten pulled into the engine, and not been quite vaporized.

Lucky they didn’t blow themselves into just some more space dust. The talon snagged the offending whatever-it-was. Nothing living, not at this point.

Ferret wriggled her way backward out of the tube, and did a neat little twist-jump that brought her out onto the engine room floor, facing the five humans towering over her. Red was the shortest of them, still taller than Ferret but stocky, at least as one of his species went, with the blazing red hair that had given him his nickname. He was also, Ferret thought, cleaner man the four others, even now, and had more recently taken care of his human facial fur. The others looked downright ready to molt.

Living close to the edge, these. Independents, yes.

“Got it?” Red asked succinctly, and Ferret gave him a head-flip of a nod. Glowering at the others, she shook the talon and its incriminating evidence at them.

“Cloth, maybe,” she snapped. “Space suit scrap, something tough, carbon-lump but not vapor. Not good in engine, not good in deep space. Lucky you that nothing did go fiery on you!”

She was familiar enough with human expressions by now, thanks to Red, to recognize embarrassment and relief when she saw it. They muttered thanks, and Ferret, who had never yet mastered the human art of bargaining, let Red handle the details of payment: so much to Mech Central, so much as his and her bonus. Red, finished, knowing his partner, put an arm around her shoulders to start her walking. But she couldn’t resist a parting shot over her shoulder.

“Think you not that mistake make again, okay? Good.”

“A hundred mechs in service,” Red muttered, “and I had to get stuck with Mom.”

“Heh. Not minding funny stuff. Such as you. But, yeek, time wasting.”

They headed down one of the station’s narrow, no-frills off-white corridors. There was transit throughout the station, but transit cost credits. Besides, they’d been working here long enough to know all the quickest ways from one module to another. Red and Ferret cut through the cargo module, avoiding a robot cart heading the other way on its air cushion, then casually taking a shortcut through the zero-G cargo zone, kicking off from one side, steering with the skill of experience, and exiting just as casually back in the next artificial gravity module, just a short walk from Mech Central.

“Bet we got another job, yes?” Ferret said, shaking her fur back into place.

Red ran a hand through his wildly ruffled hair, marginally smoothing it. “With so much traffic coming in? No bet there. Want to wager me which is the next species in trouble?”

She curled up her lips in a grin. “Want to have to clean my quarters again?”

Red dodged under a low-slung pipe. “Hey, you got lucky!”

“A human partner? That is luck?”

“A hundred mechs,” Red repeated, grinning as well, “and I got stuck with a ferret.”

“Big laughs. You think you could have wriggled into that engine tubing and not gotten stuck?”

“Yeah, well, never mind that. Let’s go check in and see what they’ve got.”

Ferret stifled a sigh and followed her partner. One thing about Red, when he worked, he worked. Not lazy, like some humans. More like her people.

That thought made her stifle another sigh. Her people usually were more, well, groomed, She really, really would have rather stopped at the nearest sonic shower to get the sweat out of her fur, maybe get something nice to drink, too. But the station mechs worked on commission and bonuses, so the more jobs, the better. Money to send home, earn a nice place in status-ranking. Red was sending money to Earth-home, too, she knew.

Good people, us.

But did Red have to be so cursed cheerful about it?

Red was still cheerful as they came to the separate module that was Mech Central. He and Ferret duly entered their license numbers, waited for their retinal scans, and were greeted by the computer’s dispassionate male voice, “Live long and prosper.”

Some human tech with too much free time, Red had once told Ferret, had reprogrammed the computer to sound like a character from an ancient Earth entertainment.

“Job listings, current,” Red told it.

“Searching… current listings. One urgent. Ateil ship requests minor adjustment to freighter.”

“Ateil!” Red snapped, all good humor gone in an instant.

“That is accurate.”

“Never mind accurate. Find us something else.”

“Red,” Ferret whispered, “what—”

He waved her to silence. “Don’t confuse the computer.”

“Searching… current listings. One urgent—”

“You gave us that already! Computer, damnit, find a new listing.”

“It is illogical to damn a computer.”

“Just find a new listing, okay?”

“Searching… current listing. There are no new listings. Do you wish to refuse this assignment?”

Ferret ducked under her partner’s arm, took one look at the screen and the fee being offered, and snapped, “We accept!”

“Ferret!”

“Assignment accepted,” the computer cut in.

“Damnit, Ferret—”

“Live long and prosper,” the computer said, and shut off contact.

“Come,” Ferret said to Red, clamping down on his arm with a hand. “Talk, now!”

She couldn’t have actually dragged him along, but Red followed her out into the station without resistance. “Ateil!” he said. “Damn it to hell, Ateil!”

“We both saw. That was the only job needed. Nice money. Too nice to turn down!”

“I don’t care what—”

“We refuse job, bad look on record. Also some other mech take it instead. You can refuse money, heh? You have some secret nest-cache?”

“Ferret, stop it.”

“Not knowing species, Ateil. Why this fury?”

Red took a deep breath. “They’re Birds,” he began. “Hell, I mean they’re what humans call avian sapiens.”

“So?”

“So, that’s not the point. The point is, they hate humans. Say that we’re inferior.”

Ferret blinked, puzzled. “Their problem, not ours, yes? This explains nothing. Why the rage, Red?”

He shrugged angrily and started to walk off, but Ferret slipped past him in the narrow corridor and twisted about to confront him again.

“Damnit, Ferret—”

“Come, tell.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“No? Together we work, and needing to know your emotions are not causing danger to me or you.”

“You know better than that. I don’t endanger a partner.”

“Yes? Then together we have worked long enough for trust.”

Red said something fierce under his breath. “Okay, if it’ll get you off my back.”

“Huh?”

“Okay, okay. I wasn’t always a station mech, you know that.”

“Yes. More than that, no.”

“Worked on a freighter, nothing fancy. But we got along, the crew and I. In fact, I’d say we were all pretty good friends, and I was able to fix pretty much anything that went wrong with the ship. Almost anything. We were a bare bones operation, like the guys we saw today.”

“Something went too much wrong.”

“Yeah. Too much. There was an Ateil sip within reach, so we sent them a distress call. They ignored us.”

Ferret straightened. “Not possible! Against all interstellar law! Maybe the communication did not—”

“It went through, all right. They got it. They just didn’t want to be bothered with inferiors.”

“Red, not proved!”

“Like hell it’s not! I heard them say something about ‘inferors’ just before the com went down, I swear it. Ferret, we lost more than half the crew before I could cobble something together to get us into a station. More than half of my friends! All because we were too inferior to be helped.”

Ferret let out her breath in a soft hiss. How much of what Red said was truth, and how much what a human, confused and frantic in the middle of deadly chaos, had thought was truth? “Red,” she began carefully. “That was space—years back, yes? Ek, wait. Nothing can change past harm. But is living well, what, old Earth saying?”

Red snorted. “‘Living well’s the best revenge,’ you mean?”

“Is so! Money offered us is good, I say again. Ateil not recognize you, you not know them, so we hurt Ateil in money-place, then drink to lost friends.”

He grunted.

“Yes?” Ferret prodded. “Ateil said minor adjustment to freighter. So faster done, faster gone.”

Red glared at her. “You know, you can be a real pain in the ass sometime.”

“So?” Ferret held up one clawed hand. “You want real pain there?”

That forced a reluctant laugh out of Red. “Hell, you’d do it, too.” He shook his head. “Okay, I guess I can be a pain, too. Guess that’s why we get along so good.”

“Said well, yes. Now, about job?”

“Yeah. Trouble is, ‘minor’ can mean anything with the Ateil, anything from, oh, a recalibration of the heating system to maybe replacing or rebuilding some major component.”

“Ek.”

“Exactly. But as you say, money is money. So let’s go see what the Birds want.”

It wasn’t easy to judge the size or scale of a ship that was docked to a station, but from what Ferret could see of it, the Ateil freighter was illogically streamlined—illogical, because a spacecraft had no need to fight against the friction of an atmosphere. Not so illogical, Ferret thought, if its owners were bird-types.

But the four Ateil waiting for them looked more like reptile-types, tall and fine-boned bipeds but with narrow, almost serpentine heads topped with feathery crests. There was the hint of what could have been either very fine scales or very fine down on creamy-pale face and limbs. Their coveralls… Ferret assumed that the colorful layers of fabric were coveralls. Birds, after all, maybe, imitating the bright plumes their species no longer had.

From lighter gravity world and maybe weaker here? Ferret speculated, and stored that possible fact away.

At first glance, the four looked absolutely alike. But Ferret, used to finding the difference between humans, noted that there were definite differences in the coloring of the Ateil clothing: yellow predominant, blue predominant, green predominant, and purple predominant. Status or job rankings, maybe.

Red, meanwhile, was proving himself a better actor than Ferret would ever have imagined, showing nothing at all in his face or body language but professional interest. “Mech Central sent us,” he said without emotion, flashing his credentials—and Ferret belatedly remembered to show hers as well. “What seems to be the problem?”

The Ateils’ stiff, almost beaklike lips couldn’t sneer, but sneers were implicit as they glanced at each other.

“This is a substandard station,” Yellow Ateil said to the others.

“They send us these beings,” Purple Ateil agreed.

A muscle in Red’s jaw twitched, and Ferret said hastily, before he could speak, and in her most charming voice, “If so substandard this, why bend you down to learn Standard speech? Come, please, the problem, so we may fix it and you be gone.”

She caught Red’s quick sideways glance, a glint of wry humor in his eyes.

“We wish others,” Purple Ateil said, not quite to the two mechs.

“Sorry,” Red drawled. “We’re what you get. My partner said it: Tell us the problem, we’ll fix it, and you can get out of here.”

Ferret could have sworn she heard an Ateil whisper, “Unlucky color.”

What? Red’s hair? Yes, that, certainly. No red on the Ateil.

Oh, joy. Superstitious, too.

But Purple Ateil unbent enough to point out the problem, which turned out to be, yes, a major job, broken parts that had broken other parts. Wonderful.

The only good side to this job was that the work space was small, which meant that Ferret fit and Red was the one sent to get this gear or that component.

Keep him away from Ateil as much as possible.

It also meant that Ferret could eavesdrop while she worked. For the most part, the Ateil chattered and twittered in their own language, but every now and again, she caught snatches in Standard, just enough for Ferret to learn that there was no love lost between Purple and Yellow. The sort of quarrel that could build up between two beings who’d been cooped up together in a cramped ship for too long.

It spilled over onto outsiders, too. Red, passing components on to Ferret, who was wedged into a work space small even for her, said something about, “Can’t expect my partner to work like this very long.”

Purple Ateil snapped at him, “You will work till the job is done!”

“Hey, hey, we don’t leave a job unfinished. But we also don’t like that tone, you know what I mean?”

“Red!” Ferret hissed. But he was between her and the Ateil, and she couldn’t get out of the cramped little corner.

“Ah, yes,” Yellow told Purple, “leave the help alone.”

Purple said something harsh-sounding in the Ateil language, and then turned back to Red. “You come and go, and yet nothing is completed. Can it be that you work deliberately slowly to earn more?”

Ferret, distracted, yelped as she pinched her finger. Shaking it, she snapped, “Try working in here! Try, and see how fast you work!”

Purple sneered as much as an Ateil’s rigid face could manage, “Perhaps it is skill you lack.”

“What—why—you—”

Red moved between her and the Ateil. “Calm down,” he warned. To Purple, he drawled, “Look, I’m not big on social graces, and I’m not going to give you any pretty words. I don’t like you, and you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t like us, either. That said, Ferret and I are good mechs. You can look up our records if you want proof. And we’re working as fast as we safely can, so we don’t have to be in each other’s company any longer than we need to be.”

The Ateil reared back, narrow nostrils flaring. “Arrogance! Human arrogance!”

“Red,” Ferret said uneasily.

He ignored her. “Well, hell, you’re free to hire someone else—”

“Red!”

He held up a silencing hand. “—but that’s going to cause a delay, you know. A really bad delay, probably, when the other mechs hear about this. Most of them are human, too. Might not find any of them free to help you for, oh, maybe a station month or more.”

Purple’s crest shot up. “Were you one of the True People, I would see you dead for such a threat!”

“Hell, look at this, a human’s not even good enough to kill. Isn’t that—”

“Red!” Ferret dug a claw into his thigh. With a curse, he whirled to her, and she said mildly, “This work is done.”

To do the Ateil credit, Purple didn’t argue over the amount due, merely signed over the proper amount and then turned his back on the mechs. Ferret couldn’t exactly drag her partner away short of literally digging her claws into him, but she tightened her fingers on his arm just enough, and got him moving, off the ship and back into the station.

Red delicately worked his arm free from her determined grip. “Well, all things considered, I think that went pretty well.”

“Heh.”

“Never mind ‘hen.’ It’s over, we’ve got the credits. Let’s go get us a drink.”

“That sounds—oh, fur-molting damnation!”

“What—”

“I left a tool on the Ateil ship.”

“Get another one.”

“No, no, this one is to my hand and species perfect. Have to go back.”

“Want me to go with you?”

And risk you, they getting to war? I so think not. “Not needed, thanks. Back shortly meeting in bar?”

No need to name it: there was only one bar that the mechs frequented. “Yeah.”

Ferret scurried back to the Ateil ship: sooner mere, sooner back.

Keeping calm, yes? she warned herself, and said to the Ateil, Purple Ateil, who met her, “Your pardon for this, but haste to finish for you made me leave tool on board. Retrieval allowed, please?”

To her relief, no one stopped her, or said anything outrageously infuriating. She ignored the murmurs. The tool was lying exactly where she’d left it on the floor, and mat in itself was a touch insulting: they hadn’t even wanted to touch something not Ateil But Ferret refused to let herself react, merely scooped it up and said, “Thanking am. No longer needing to bother you.”

But Purple Ateil moved smoothly to block her way, and Yellow silently moved in behind her. Ferret swore silently. “Something is wrong?” she asked carefully.

“We would question you.”

Damnation. Ferret tightened a clawed hand about the tool. “Perhaps. What of?”

“Why dares the human hate us?”

That was the last thing she would have expected. “Dares?” Ferret echoed helplessly, not at all sure where this was heading.

“Yes! It is not of honor for one of no status to show such strong emotion to the True People. And for one who is colored with that evil hair shade to do such, especially when we cannot of honor slay him—there is no balance left for any!”

Ferret blinked. Complicated statement, yes! If she understood it correctly, Purple Ateil was telling her that by allowing someone who was too inferior to be legally slain to insult their honor by daring to show anger to them, they were trapped without a way to restore their status.

Ek. Still complicated. Humans and I, two species but we understand each other. These, no. Avian sapiens, Red calls them. More like avian stupid, I think. If being is too inferior to be noted, then surely is too inferior for his anger to be noted.

Suddenly she wanted nothing but to get off this ship as quickly as possible. “Wanting to know why Red hates you?” she snapped, utterly disgusted with everything Ateil. “So be it. Killing his shipmates, you.”

Quickly she summarized the story Red had told her, and saw Ateil crests rise, but whether it was in anger or surprise, she couldn’t tell. “So?” Ferret asked. “Does that not give good reason for his anger?”

Purple Ateil was definitely upset, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. If he’d had true feathers, Ferret thought, they would have been puffed up. “Not enough. Not enough. It does not restore honor or balance.”

“Sorry am I,” Ferret retorted, “but frankly speaking, that is not my affair. Stand aside, please.” Or I swing this tool and damage more of you than your honor.

“This is not possible. Status must be settled.”

“Ek, nonsense. I am not human, not same species.”

“Status must be settled. You are partnered with the human creature. Not exact balance, but it serves.”

“Hell, not!”

Just then, a familiar voice drawled, “Everything all right?”

Before the Ateil could say anything, Ferret called out to Red, “Not letting me pass!”

“You know,” Red told the Ateil, “it’s really not a good idea to keep a hostage. Particularly not a mech. Don’t want to get the mechs’ union after you.”

The Ateil said nothing. But Ferret took advantage of the moment of uncertainty to slip under Purple Ateil’s arm and escape. “Good thing you came along when you did.”

“Figured you might need a hand. You all right?”

“Ek, yes. Bar!” Ferret added emphatically.

The mechs’ bar was small and crowded with as many chairs and tables as could be fit in without forcing out customers. There were quite a few station mechs there, off shift or between jobs, but Ferret wriggled in between to find Red and herself a place to sit.

Quite a few station hours later, they were still sitting with the latest round of drinks, luxuriating in the time off. Then Red asked, not quite offhandedly, “What did the Ateil want?”

“Strangeness.” With a shrug, Ferret told Red about the convoluted honor and status system of the Ateil. “Their problem,” Ferret concluded.

“Hell, they deserve it.” Red eyed his drink moodily. “Let ’em all die, the universe wouldn’t care.”

“Their credits pay for our drinks. And—heh, what now?”

Red straightened, eyeing the two humans in their crisp blue uniforms with suspicion. “Station Security.”

“Coming this way.”

Stopping in front of them, in fact. “Red Collins?” They made a mangled attempt at Ferret’s whole name, and she cut them off with a curt, “Ferret.”

“You know who we are,” Red said. “What’s the problem?”

“We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“About?”

“You were just working on the Ateil ship, were you not?”

“Hell, yes. Finished the job some time ago and decided to take a break. Which we were doing, thank you, when you interrupted us.”

“We’ll try not to take up too much more of your time,” one agent said dryly. “But it seems that there was a little accident on board their ship. A small explosion in a console-one on which you were working.”

“Oh, hell,” Red said helplessly.

“There’s more. One of the Ateil was killed in the explosion. And just to make things even more interesting, the others say that he was someone pretty high ranking, too.”

“Not possible!” Ferret protested. “Explosion? No. Good work we do!”

“She’s right,” Red said. “Check our records.”

“We already have. Apparently you, Ser Collins, had an encounter with the Ateil once before.”

“That was Standard years ago!”

“Of course. You’ll come with us, please.”

“What about Ateil ship?” Ferret asked frantically. “Who has examined that?”

The security agents had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“No one!” Ferret cried in realization. “True, yes? Ateil have not let you on board!”

One guard muttered something about “sovereign territory.”

“Is nonsense!” Ferret returned. “If they call crime, they forfeit right to sovereignty claim!”

Red gave her a how the hell do you know that? look. Ferret gave him a lip-curl of a grin in return. “Travel much, learn much.”

The security agents weren’t so impressed. “Sorry. You’ll get a chance to explain everything in our office.”

They were turned over to the grim, solid human head of Station Security, Captain Vazkez. “Sit down,” he said without preamble. “I want you to watch this.”

The chairs were human-sized, but a guard found a cushion to make things a little more comfortable for Ferret. She sat dangling her feet, feeling ridiculously like a cub. At Vazkez’s signal, another guard switched on a viewing console and started playing a security tape.

“From the Ateil,” Vazkez said tersely.

Together, Red and Ferret watched Purple Ateil touch a control. “One that you two replaced,” Vazkez told them unnecessarily. “Now watch what happens when he switches it on.”

Ferret winced at the sight of the explosion that followed.

“Good-bye, Purple,” Red said without much regret.

But Ferret all at once sat forward in her too-large chair, frowning. “Know it? Something odd there.”

“Oh, sure,” Red agreed. “It’s damned odd, what with all the species out there using all kinds of tech, that the Ateil should just happen to use a data format compatible to what humans use.”

“They come in and out of this station pretty often,” Vazkez retorted. “Probably switched over to this format because it’s more convenient.”

“Convenient for whom? Humans? Never knew the Ateil to care much about anything to do with humans.”

Ferret stared at the console. “Show record again,” she insisted. “Slowly this time slowly… there! Freeze it!”

Springing up from her seat, ignoring the guards’ start, Ferret studied the image, nose nearly touching the console screen. “Something funny, yes. Something hidden… not seeing what Purple did with his left hand. See? Something in it, but not seeing what.”

Red frowned, staring at the image. “You saying he did his own sabotage?”

“Oh, come on!” one of the guards began, but was ignored.

“Seems possible, yes,” Ferret said to Red. “Possible, but…”

“That’s ridiculous!” Vazkez exclaimed. “He was clearly the one operating the control. If he had sabotaged it, that would mean he was—”

“Attempting suicide,” Red cut in. “And succeeding pretty well, too.”

“Heh,” Ferret said, straightening. “Red, maybe so? Because of us?”

“Because he was insulted? Lost status over dealing with—whoa, Ferret. You might have something, really might. Who spoke to us aboard their ship?”

“Purple and Yellow—ek, no! Yellow never spoke to us, to Purple only. Only Purple dealt with us, spoke with us. Sacrificial Purple?”

“Damn! They really do have a weird culture.”

“Bet me any dialog Ateil had with station was recorded. No shame or loss of status from talking into machine.”

“No bet, Ferret.”

Vazkez was looking helplessly from one to the other. “What the hell are you two talking about?”

“I need to be aboard that ship,” Ferret said.

“They won’t allow a human—”

“I am not human. We need to prove our theory, our innocence. And if we are correct, Ateil may try to block my path, but not one Ateil will speak to me.”

Of course they didn’t allow her to go alone. But even as she had said, no Ateil spoke to her. They blocked human guards without so much as looking at them; they ignored Ferret completely—and she shot on board before anyone could move. Ek, there was the exploded stuff, not yet completely cleaned.

If Purple could hide what he did, so can I.

Pretending to merely be staring in horror at what had been the console and a living being, she managed to subtly touch a finger to some of the residue, not letting herself think what might be getting on her fur, then turned to leave.

Sure enough, no one stopped her, or even looked at her. Why should they? Wasn’t she almost as inferior as a human? All she was doing, they must think, was looking at the scene of her “error.”

Back in the station, Ferret said, “Examine residue now. Before accidentally contaminated by me.”

She waited anxiously with Red. But anxiety vanished bit by bit. As Ferret had expected, the computers registered normal traces of engine fuel, microscopic scraps of shed Ateil skin cells—

“And traces of explosives,” Red finished triumphantly. “T-39, eh? Not the sort of thing mechs carry, and you can search our stuff if you have any doubts.”

“Suicide, indeed,” Ferret said. “Poor Purple. No way out else.”

“Ateil think humans are inferior,” Red explained to Captain Vazkez. “Not good enough even to kill. But someone had to talk to the mechs if the job was to get done.”

“Why Purple was the one, not knowing,” Ferret continued. “But it was he, only he, who lowered self to speak to us.”

“Maybe he would have been able to clean himself from contamination if it had ended there,” Red added. “But then I added to his problem by talking back to him. Getting him angry when he shouldn’t get angry at an inferior. Poor bastard never had a chance.”

“Only one way left to cleanse honor,” Ferret finished. “Kill self, blame inferiors, die with status restored.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work. Ferret, want to bet me the Ateil get out of here as soon as they can get everything back on-line?”

“No bet. Captain Vazkez, thinking that someone, non-human someone, should send scholars, do more accurate studying, maybe, Ateil culture.”

Red nodded. “Good idea. Uh, Captain Vazkez? We free to leave?”

Vazkez opened his mouth, shut it again, then said helplessly, “Go on. Get out of here.”

Together, Ferret and Red walked out of his office, free mechs once more.

“Bet you business is really good for us after word gets out,” Red said.

“No bet,” Ferret retorted.

Josepha Sherman is a fantasy novelist and folklorist whose latest titles include Son of Darkness, The Captive Soul, the folklore title Merlin’s Kin, and, together with Susan Shwartz, two Star Trek novels, Vulcan’s Forge and Vulcan’s Heart. She is also a fan of the New York Mets, horses, aviation, and space science. Visit her at www.sff.net/people/Josepha.Sherman.