by Michæl W. Bard Text ©2007 Michæl W. Bard; illustration ©2007 Cubist

   A loud explosion shattered the air in the control cabin. With a bone-shatterin’ roar, the main thrust roared to life, shovin’ me back into my padded chair. It cut, roared, cut, and cut a last time. Silence and freefall—an’ half my board went red. “What the fuck’s going on, control!?” My nostrils quivered as I pulled my ears against my skull. I could smell somethin’ burnin’, and I could feel the shuttle tumblin’.
   “Ahh, Hermes, Scanners showed a heat pulse at your location, and radar is picking up what looks like debris at your location.”
   “Half my board’s red, Hermes is tumblin’, I can’t see the outside worth shit, and nothin’ but environment controls are workin’. I need a visual report, and some kind of information on my headin’ ’cause I ain’t got a damn thing here.” Flickin’ over to internal intercom, I spoke to my passengers in the rear (who better be strapped in, as I didn’t have time to coddle ’em). “This is your captain speakin’. We appear to have a slight malfunction. Please remain strapped in your seat until further notice.” I flicked off the switch just as the cacophony of screeches and yowls and yips echoed from the overhead speaker. “Control, I need somethin’! Now!”
   “Umm…” the growly female voice whined, not havin’ a clue. “I think I’ve got you on Camera 57. Switching… Umm… Don’t see you—”
   Damn vixen was probably a new hire—enough trainin’ to read the routine from a clipboard, an’ that’s it. “Miss. Get Lieutenant Ruprecht on the line, now!”
   “But—he’s off duty..! I’ve got the protocol—”
   “I don’t care! I got nothin’ here, an’ I could hit the damn rock you’re in any second now. I need to know! I’m declarin’ a fuckin’ emergency! So get him now!” My tail would’ve been whippin’ back and forth if I hadn’t had it amputated. Damn the Company and their shipshod equipment. Damn them and their cost-cuttin’ measures! I had no pressure suit, neither did the passengers, and unless the explosion blew us far-enough off course for New Ceres, we were all dead.
   And the Company would probably send the clean-up bill to my bloody funeral!
   Lookin’ around, I checked what I had left. Cabin pressure showed fine, and there was no pricklin’ sensation of a pressure drop, so the metre was readin’ correctly. Only other thing I had any kind of information on was life support, and that read in the green. If the readin’ was even worth anythin’. At least the tumble wasn’t too sev—
   Fuck—
   Unlike most furs, us equines had been left with our muzzles mostly unchanged from our wild ancestors. We can see almost all the way around. Kind of screws us for tryin’ to catch anythin’, but really useful for runnin’, and for seein’ things sneakin’ up on you. And pilots depend more on instruments than vision anyway.
   Through the cockpit plexiglass I saw a big gleamin’ metal strut. It was easy to recognize: The arm holdin’ one of the Reaction Control Systems, reaction jets for steerin’ a spacecraft. From the jagged edge as it slowly tumbled past the viewport, it’d been ripped out.
   For a second I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t happenin’! Havin’ to make sure, I looked straight out the window—I do have some depth perception straight ahead—and yes, I’d’ve bet a week’s pay that New Ceres was gettin’ closer. Fuck!
   “Control!? Anybody with a mind there? Hell-”
   “Captain Eeysmarn!”
   The well-remembered voice of Lieutenant Ruprecht snapped me out of my panic. “Yes sir!” He was a wolf, but the grapevine said his genome had a lot of domestic in it. Still, he’d trained me. And ignorin’ the courtesy rank for my captainin’ the shuttle, he was far above me, bein’ in command of all space traffic around New Ceres. Not to mention that he was my best friend.
   “Report your situation, Captain.”
   Swallowin’, I tore my eyes away from the loomin’, craggy bulk of the spinnin’ New Ceres slowly gettin’ closer. I couldn’t completely, though, until I closed one eye. My nostrils quivered at the scent of fear—my fear—and my legs were tensed and ready to run. Even with all the gengineerin’, they still couldn’t get all the animal out. I started tappin’ a hoof against the floor, away from the engine control pedals, to try and work out my adrenaline. “Everythin’ on my board is down except environmental systems. They all show green. There’s no evidence of a leak, though I may be smellin’ burnin’ plastic. Everythin’ I got shows dead on the exterior. I saw one of the RCS arms out the window, broken at its base. Cause unknown. I got a slight tumble and visual evidence says I’m on a collision coarse with New Ceres. Details or confirmation of this information is not available onboard. Sir.”
   “Thank you, Captain. Sorry to bark at you, but you sounded like you needed it. I’ve got you on Camera eighty-seven; I can see the RCS arm, and a cloud of smaller debris around you. Maybe some fuel. The Brain’s confirmed you’re on a collision with New Ceres, impact in… five minutes, eighteen point something seconds. There’s nothing we have that can reach you in time.”
   “Well, that bites. Guess the Breath Sucker gets me after all.” I didn’t mind dyin’. You paid your money and you took your chances. It was the passengers I hated losin’. “Hold it Control! I think I’ve got somethin’. If the emergency bolts to release the control capsule still function—”
   “Captain Eeysmarn, that’ll break your seal!”
   “Yeah, Control! That’s the point. The thrust of my escapin’ air oughta give them some time. Maybe enough. Just shut up a sec…” Forcin’ myself to look out the cockpit window, I got myself a good, solid grip on the emergency lever as I focused on New Ceres. My spin was rotatin’ it out of sight, and I waited as the stars spiraled past, the moon, the glowin’ blue Earth, a flash of sunlight that momentarily darkened the glass, and then New Ceres comin’ back in. “Blowin’ the bolts now!” Then I yanked that lever back—hard.
   Nothin’.
   “Captain, we have no changes on visual. You didn’t chicken out, did you?”
   “Gimme a break, Lieutenant! Maybe there’s a short in the electrical charges for ignitin’ the bolts, I dunno… I got nothin’.” I paused. “Nothin’…”
   “Umm… Sorry, Shean. I wish…”
   I couldn’t think of anythin’ else, and I’d graduated top of my class. “You did what you could. Damn Company! Don’t think I’m gonna tell the passengers; no sense in lettin ’em panic and screw somethin’ up and break a seal or somethin’. Maybe we’ll get a miracle. At least I still got air and can watch the show ’til the end.” I snorted. “Hey! Any chance you can fire up the Orion drive and shove yourselves out of my way?”
   “Not installed yet, but you know that. Lots of fuel, but without the braces it would shatter itself and probably break our pressure seal. You sure there are no suits at all? Not even a survival bag?”
   “Nothin’. Directive 18-912B: All emergency survival equipment will be removed in order to increase payload.” Snortin’, my voice turned bitter. “After all, in almost every emergency situation, there is no opportunity to use, or need for, emergency survival equipment.” Well, at least I’d die in the outer space I loved. Too bad I wasn’t ever goin’ see the stars up close and personal.
   “Damn. Well… What the!? Hold your horses, Captain!”
   I just shook my head at that old joke. Not a heck of a lot more I could do. Only thing I wished was that I’d gotten my tail back as I’d planned before the end. I’d had it removed to make life in space easier. Made suit and seat design much simpler.
   “Holy shit! You’re kidd– Captain, I’ve got something coming in forty degrees by fifty degrees by fifteen degrees. Jesus Christ, look at that sucker go!”
   What was he talkin’ about? “What’s goin’ on? I’m blind out here!”
   “Just got a message from the Brain—says there’s something that can intercept you in time. Thing’s barely on my scopes… running… 25G. Jesus!”
   Twenty-five Gs!? What the hell could do that? There’d been talk about antimatter drives, but nothin’ had ever been tested that I’d heard of. “Lieutenant, you got any instructions for—”
   “Captain Eeysmarn, this is Captain Stapledon, piloting experimental craft VX57d. I picked up your transmission and I’m going to try and grapple with you and pull you away from New Ceres. I make no promises—it’s going to be tight, but if God wills, it’ll be successful.” The voice that broke in was odd. It was warm, friendly, but with perfect intonation. I’d’ve put hard cash down that it was a Brain, ’cept their support equipment was too damn big to fit in a standard ship.
   “Stapledon? I never heard of you, but I sure as hell ain’t complainin’. Anythin’ I can do?”
   “Just strap yourselves in. God willing, you won’t break your pressure seal, but I’m the only chance you have. ETA three minutes, fifty seconds.”
   The Lieutenant burst in. “That’ll give you, what? Eighteen seconds to get the grapple on and yank him to safety? Good luck, Captain Stapledon, you’re going need it. I’d get the Brain to give you exact vectors, but we won’t have time—”
   “I’m perfectly aware of that, Lieutenant. Onboard systems can easily calculate what’s needed. Trust me, God has led me here to help.”
   Onboard systems? What the hell kind of onboard systems? He wouldn’t know the exact vectors until he was virtually in position; too many variables, and I couldn’t give him crap. Radar on the New Ceres wasn’t fully emplaced yet—surprised they were able to fix me as accurate as they had. How the hell was Stapledon goin’ to calculate it? By the time his onboard sensors had the numbers, it’d be too late!
   Well, it was a shot, and hell if I’d complain. Switchin’ on the intercom, I told the passengers: “This is your captain speakin’. We had some problems, but a rescue intercept is en route. ETA, three minutes. Strap yourselves in tight and hold on, because the intercept’s gonna be rough—real rough. But the Brain’s worked it out, and the intercept should go without a hitch.” I switched the intercom off.
   ‘Brains’? Yeah—bio-cybernetic computers with one or more sentient brains at the core. It was a funny thing back then, but with the Brains crunchin’ numbers and givin’ instructions, people felt more confident. They were people, not computers, and almost a century of them supplyin’ information had made their users happy and confident in their skills. Invariably, if a Brain said somethin’ would happen, it did. Of course, this Stapleton joker wasn’t a Brain, just a hot-ass pilot I prayed would get shit lucky. Still, anythin’ to keep the passengers calm was fair in my book.
   “Starting intercept countdown, Captain. I make it two minutes, thirty-two seconds to intercept, God willing. Are all your passengers strapped down?”
   “They are if they know what’s good for ’em, Captain Stapledon. I hope you win the lottery tonight, ’cause I need all the luck you got.”
   “Two minutes, eighteen seconds. I can see you now. You don’t appear to be in bad shape—when you lost the RCS it must have trashed your main command trunk. That would explain the loss of your externals. God willing, I’m going to hook your engine, try and get it through the spine.”
   “I’ll just be glad if you grab me anywhere, Captain Stapledon.”
   He had to be a Brain; they were always thankin’ God for this, and thankin’ God for that. But the ship couldn’t be big enough! I’m an athiest, myself—world was too screwed up for me to believe in any kind of overseein’ power. But the Brains…
   The radio went silent for a bit, ’cept for the hiss. There was no breathin’ from Captain Stapledon, but I could hear faint voices and clicks and footsteps from Control.
   “One minute, twelve seconds. I’m slightly off course due to New Ceres’ gravitation… Adjusting… God willing, everything looks good.”
   Off course from New Ceres? Hell, we’d cored that rock and blown it up like a balloon! It couldn’t be grabbin’ him with anythin’ more than .0001G, if even that much. Off course? Well, pilots were superstitious as hell, and my chances were so crappy I wasn’t goin’ to argue with any idiosyncrasies.
   More silence, and then Captain Stapledon’s calm voice spoke: “Forty-two seconds. Try and keep anybody from moving around over there, Captain Eeysmarn. This will be tight, but God willing, I’ll get you.”
   Idiosyncrasies—
   “Eighteen seconds—Radar here picks up an extrusion from New Ceres—going to make this tough, but we’re in God’s hands. Will count down at ten.”
   ‘Tough’, he said. Like it wasn’t already tough?
   “Ten seconds… Grapple locked… eight seconds… launching… six seconds… five… four… three… track looks good, God willing… two seconds… one… hold your horses for boost. God be praised, I have you! Running drive.”
   As he said that, I heard a dull clunk—the grapple piercin’ the drive at the rear of the shuttle. In my mind I could see its hooks clampin’ shut, hopefully on the ship’s spine—I didn’t think anythin’ else would be strong enough. I just hoped his cable was.
   “Five G acceleration for twenty-two seconds. Over.”
   As he talked, I felt and heard Hermes groan; it whipped around, and then I was yanked hard into the straps over my chest at five G. Again, I thanked the rich who, almost a century ago, had thought it cute to have horse jockeys ridin’ horses; they gengineered my line nice and small. Less mass. My breath got shoved out through my nostrils, I couldn’t inhale, my vision tunneled, my mane dragged down in front of me as I looked down the deep pit to my control boards that seemed so far away as I hung vertically above.
   Wincin’, I pulled my ears against my skull as somethin’ boomed into the door behind me. It was a soft boom, with a clatter of breakin’ bones and a squish of splatterin’ flesh. Damn near lost my lunch, but the acceleration wouldn’t let me.
   “Twenty seconds… eighteen seconds… God willing, course is clean, cable holding… fourteen seconds…”
   My stomach gurgled, and I struggled to hold my head back against the seat—should have strapped that. I lost it, and my head fell forward, muscles and bones twanged as my head jerked to a stop. I could see my jumpsuit, smell the vinegary scent of a stain where my bladder had given way—or had the liquid just poured down the five-G gradient? One thing you learn early in flight school, little things like that in extreme circumstances are nothin’ to be ashamed of. My own scent was rank in my nostrils, hot, sweaty, panicky, and yet confident. It was that voice. Just like a Brain’s, though it couldn’t be. I could feel my tail bone shovin’ up against my spine. I could smell somethin’ burnin’—shit! The short caught fire. Well, nothin’ I could do about it at five G.
   There was a twang of somethin’ givin’ way in the cabin behind me, a faint scream through the metal, and a squelchin’ boom.
   “…eight seconds…”
   Somehow I gasped out, “Cut—Accel—Fast—Short—Fire—” My voice was faint, harsh, hoarded air roarin’ out and down into the well.
   “Understood, Captain. God willing, I’ll cut cleanly at earliest instant… two seconds… zero seconds…”
   And then my weight was gone. Air roared into my lungs and I bounced back into my cushioned chair. I had no idea how the passengers were, but this had to be better than all of ’em bein’ dead. Black smoke billowed out, fillin’ the cockpit, I coughed as the fans roared to try and clean the air. Fumblin’ at the belt, I got it, grabbed the extinguisher, hooves spaced out and braced on the floor, spotted the fire, leaned against the pendin’ recoil, and let it roar.

   In the front room, dim through the closed door, the announcer’s voice rose to a crescendo. A moment of silence, then the crowd there broke into yippy cheers and growly hissin’.
   Oblivious, I kissed the vixen, my wide sensitive lips against the soft fuzz of her cheek.
   She giggled. “I think you’re drunk, Mr. Eeysmarn.” Gently, she pushed my muzzle away.
   “Fair little Kirri–” Of course she was nearly two metres compared to my one. “—as I recall, I’m the one payin’ you. And I am not drunk, I am just pleasantly warm.” I patted my stomach, which gurgled happily in response, I grabbed the plastic bottle and poured the rest of it down my muzzle.
   Kind of a tradition I had, gettin’ drunk, havin’ a girl. Once I’d looked death in the eye and spit in her face, I needed to remind myself that I was alive. I’d survived all right, just a couple of cracked ribs, some sprained neck muscles. This was only the second time I’d done it. On the shuttle, most of the passengers got off the same way, except for two who’d died. One when his belt failed; one because he hadn’t strapped in when I’d ordered them to. The first I drank to, the second was well out of the gene pool.
   So here I was in the Zero-G Rat, the deluxe back room all to myself, with pretty, furry little Kirri drapin’ herself all over me. I could see the tip of her long red and white tail waggin’ back and forth behind her head. Yeah, she was a vixen, but I’d been made infertile before goin’ into space. Somewhere on Earth I had some sperm frozen…
   “So what did happen, Shean, dear? I’ve heard rumours. You’re the hero of the hour!”
   Coughin’ and gaggin’, I slammed down the bottle with a thunk. Alcohol burned my lips as I cocked my head and glared out of one eye at her. “Hero!? Hah! All I did was go ’long for the ride.”
   The first time I’d been a hero… well, not really, but I’d made the choices that saved a few lives. This time I’d just been the passenger.
   “That’s not what I hear.” She scratched behind one ear and gently kissed me below my left eye, the warm breath from her nostrils makin’ me blink as I gasped.
   Turnin’ away, I felt shame burn. “Wasn’t anythin’ I did. I was screwed. Then this Stapledon blasts in, gets luckier than the whole blamed human race when they didn’t push the button over London, and yanks me and my passengers to safety. Hell, I couldn’t even thank him! All I could see was his ship as he dropped the tow near the Rock’s north pole. Like nothin’ I’d ever seen. All engine. Heck, there’s no way anybody could have been pilotin’ it, but somebody had to!”
   She wiggled around until she was sittin’ in my lap, each of her legs stretchin’ to either side as she kissed me again. “What was this Stapledon like? Tall? Handsome? He was a fox, I bet—”
   She winked at that last and my growl died in my throat as I let her weight push me back into the soft velvety chair. Good thing my tail was gone—chair would have been hell otherwise. Humans paid for treatment like this. Me, I was just splurgin’. Not like I couldn’t afford it; I didn’t buy much, only some vids, pay for the care of Bucephalus (and I’ll get to him later). Transmission up from earthside was cheap, not like haulin’ freight.
   “Ah Kirri, I told you. Never saw him. Never had a chance to thank the bastard.”
   She started rockin’ gently up and down, her tail bouncin’ behind her. Damn, but this vixen was good! “What was his voice like? Maybe I’ve met him.” Her tone turned dreamy. “Bet you he’s human.”
   I spluttered and snorted, my lips still sensitive from the last unplanned splash of vodka. Sure, there was prejudice, it’s part of why I’d come up here. In space it was your skills that mattered, not your form or your body. And, not all humans were bad, just some. The Doc, old Robert de la Tierra, and I—we got along good when I’d paid him to tutor me. Even so, I’d always felt like I was fightin’ a glass ceilin’, always provin’ that I was as good as any human pilot. “I don’t know what he was! Nothin’ I know could have fit into the ship I saw. His voice sounded like a Brain, but that’s impossible.”
   She blinked; her ears flicked. Her tail went still and she stopped movin’. “A Brain?”
   “That’s what the bastard sounded like! Always sayin’ ‘God willin’, and—”
   A voice boomed from the front room: “This is the police! Nobody move!” The voice was low, and loud. Somebody sure knew how to give a command. Even in the state I was in, I wanted to snap to attention.
   Kirri stopped and hopped off my lap.
   “Hey!”
   “Sorry, big boy, but I’ve got to get out of here. If you come, we can talk, and then…” She winked.
   Normally, if I hadn’t been so hot and eager and buzzed, I’d have said no. But with a nice warm glow, it’s hard for a stallion to refuse a pretty vixen. “Sure, little Miss Kirri. Lead on so that we can make beautiful music together.”
   Her ears flicked, and she looked indecisive. Mutterin’ somethin’, she then nodded to herself. Movin’ silently, naked but for the fur in which she was born, she padded over to the wall and yanked on one of the decorative panels. To my surprise it opened. “In you go, big boy. There’s only one way and I’ll be behind you.”
   With some difficulty I staggered to my hooves as the room spun. Others would have been nauseous, but pilot trainin’ does wonders for your balance. With my hooves loud on the rough stone floor carved out of the cooled asteroid, I made my way over to her. Her ears flinched with each clop of my hooves.
   The commandin’ voice echoed from outside. “Make your way to the entrance one at a time. Have your ID ready. You will not be harmed if you co-operate, we’re only looking for a dangerous insurgent. She’s a vixen, but could be in disguise so we need to check you all. Sergeant! Start checking the back rooms.”
   “Shit!” she whispered. “If we didn’t need to know the details—Get a move on, you big hunk!”
   “Is that any way to talk to your lover for the evenin’?”
   I could see her hands clench. “I’m sorry, dear, I—I just have to get going. Hurry along please, then we can get somewhere private.”
   Noddin’, I gave a clumsy bow, and then went into the passage. It was cramped; she’d have to crawl, but I was short enough that I could walk crouched. I could feel the tips of my ears touchin’ the irregular roof. She was right behind me, I could feel her body pressin’ against mine. Her tail tickled my backside, and I turned my head enough to watch her grab some handles and slowly drag the panel closed with a dull thud. There was no light, just pitch blackness.
   “You wanna do it in the dark, Kirri?”
   She muttered somethin’, and then spoke. “Not here, I know some place cozier. Just move along, and try to be quiet—we don’t want to be disturbed.” As she gave me a gentle shove, and I could smell her nervousness and desperation. Snortin’, I felt my way, my hooves loud and echoin’ in the silence. I was soberin’ awful fast.
   My clearin’ mind began wonderin’. Where was this passage goin’? See, after the Rock—I think it was one of the Apollos, 1986 DA if I remember right… Anyway, they put an Orion drive on the Rock and moved it into a distant orbit about Earth. Then they spun it and focused sunlight on it with mirrors. It heated up and melted; the spin made it a damn big centrifuge, so they grabbed the mostly-pure materials as they separated out. After the good stuff cooled, it got shipped either to Mare Crisium, or the L4 point. What was left over, the slag, they figured they’d re-install the Orion drive an’ use that to drop it into the Sun. Then one of the Company’s entertainment sub-divisions had a brainstorm: Why not use the Rock as a place for all the orbital workers to relax? They let the slag cool, drilled a hole in the core, filled that with ice, and then refocused the mirrors. So the Rock got spun up again, re-melted, the ice vapourized, and steam pressure blew the rock up into a hollow cylinder. A nice, handy Cole habitat.
   Well, the point’s this: No tunnels formed anywhere along the way. Whatever tunnels there were, they’d all been all dug or drilled. And that meant that this passage had been drilled by someone for some purpose.
   I stopped and sniffed. Nothin’ but the scent of sex, horse and vixen. No sound but the soft pad of her pawsteps. Then she crawled into me, almost knockin’ me over.
   She hissed at me, her voice low: “Why’d you stop? We’re still too close, they can hear us!”
   I kept my voice low as I answered, most of the warm fog gone from my brain. “Kirri, there’s somethin’ funny here, and I, for one, don’t like it.” I patted my chest. “The gengineers gave my kind damn good livers.” Turnin’ around, I felt and then grasped her fuzzy arm. I could smell her fear and sweat. “What’s goin’ on?”
   “Shean, you’ve got to trust me.”
   “Trust you? Why? Sure, you’re a good lay, nice and warm on a cold night on this here Rock, but—”
   I could feel her muscles tense. She swallowed, the sound loud in the silence. I thought I could hear muffled voices from behind us. “I’m one of those… umm… mutineers the Company keeps complaining about.”
   I almost dropped her arm and fled right then and there, but my options were limited. I had no clue where I was, and I doubted the Company cops outside would take kindly to my burstin’ out of a hidden passage. Of course, back then there was nothin’ wrong with hoodwinkin’ the Corp. Everybody did it. Hell, I’d’a had a suit in my cockpit if I could’ve figured a way to fit it! The Zero-G Rat had never been licensed; the recreational aids and drugs were there even though they were officially against regs. But these mutineers were somethin’ different. They didn’t just break little rules, they wanted to kick the Corp out of the Rock—make the Rock their own.
   “I’m out of here. You can take your deathwish and get out my life.”
   “But, Shean—”
   “Don’t you dare ‘but, Shean’ me! Let’s say you take over the Rock—not hard. Then what? There’s still Earth, the lunar colonies. A few rockets, a few shuttles, the marines come, and it’s all over. Well, I don’t aim to die with you. You’re safe, fine, good, dandy. But that’s all. I wash my hands of you.”
   “You’re just like all the rest! Short-sighted, mindless bigots! Oh, we’re ‘evil’, we’re ‘stupid’. Has it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, we have a brain or two?”
   Muffled, in the distance from behind us, I heard, “There was somebody here, recently, They left stuff behind, and I can smell them. They’ve got to be here somewhere—”
   I forced my voice back down to a hiss. “Well, your friends are behind us now, and I doubt they’ll believe me. Why don’t you lead on, little miss. Take me to your exit and we’re done.”
   She shoved her way past me, her perfume ticklin’ my nostrils. “Let me lead then!” I could feel her silky fur rushin’ against my side.
   “Of course! Though I hope you got somethin’ to slow ’em down, ’cause they’re goin’ to find the door, and so far there’s only been one way to go.”
   “Men!” She shoved her tail in my muzzle and I almost gagged, but then I heard her faintly crawlin’ off and followed, my hooves loud on the naked stone. Like other ungulate furs on the Rock, I had a pair of rubber boots to protect my hooves—but they were back in the room with the cops. Damn her for yankin’ me away!
   We walked for a while, the air was cool and stale. The scent of alcohol on my breath was fadin’. All I wanted was to get the hell out of there. Get back to my shuttle, which was under repair, and get back to work. I’d always learned avoidance, bein’ too small to fight. Brains and cunnin’ and speed kept me safe in school. Not this fightin’ st—
   “We made it!” There was a click, and a dim overhead light flickered on, revealin’ an intersection. My eyes blinked and watered in the sudden brightness. I could see that the tunnel was smooth, almost glossy—it had to have been carved by one of those laser tunnelers. By the time I’d focused my sight again, she’d advanced half way down one of the two branches.
   “Where you goin’?”
   “Here’s where we separate. You go down that passage,” she pointed, “it’ll eventually come out in the west corner of Ceres Park.”
   “And where are you goin’?”
   “Umm… This way leads deeper into a labyrinth. If I showed you, I’d have to kill you. Nothing personal.”
   “Nothin’ personal?”
   “Just get going. The light will shut off when it no longer senses motion. No sense making it easy for the company thugs.”
   Sniffin’ at the right fork, I could tell that the air was stale and cold. I may not have been in tunnels before, but when you spend a good chunk of your time in life support built by the lowest bidder, you get damn good at checkin’ the air quality. Somethin’ stank here—and it wasn’t me.
   “Kirri, I’m goin’ with you, and there ain’t goin’ to be no arguin’. It’s probably best for your security if I just die down here, lost and forgotten. I don’t aim to let that happen.”
   “You can’t come with me! You’ll see too much.”
   “Shoulda thought of that before you brought me. Too late now.”
   She looked at me, tail held still, ears movin’ all about. I could see a moment of indecision. No way I was goin’ to wait for her to draw a gun or somethin’ and shoot me. Though she was naked as the day she was foaled, I wasn’t about to take the chance. Like the horses I was designed to ride, I’d been made to run, and I leapt into a gallop. I could have galloped towards our ‘friends’ behind us, but I didn’t trust the Company goons either. They were more’n likely to drug me up and forget to let me go. So I galloped straight towards her.
   “Wait!” she called.
   You know, there’s somethin’ about doin’ what you’re bred to. I doubt humans can ever experience it. It’s a purity of body, of soul. I burst past her like lightnin’ and dashed off down that tunnel, dashed off into the darkness, crouched down, hooves clompin’ off the stone, the sound echoin’ all around me. I couldn’t see where I was goin’, but I didn’t care. My ears flicked around, grabbin’ the echoes and workin’ out their direction so I had a little clue as to the shape of the passage.
   But that really wasn’t important to me. My mind was set on fleein’, and I was goin’ to flee, no matter how stupid it was. Ridin’ the high of the run, I barely had enough presence of mind to hold my arms forward, even though the movement interfered with the gait. That saved my life as my hands touched the thin rope stretched across just before my neck would have hit it and likely snapped. I didn’t know how strong the rope was, how well anchored, so I crouched under it. I could feel it scrapin’ the back of my neck, draggin’ through my mane. Don't know what it was supposed to do; anybody normal-sized woulda been crawlin’ here, an’ who crawls fast enough to break a neck? Thing was probably connected to some kinda pressure point, collapse the tunnel or God knows what.
Anyway, o’ course I didn’t notice the small outcroppin’ of rock stickin’ outta the smooth floor. It caught the tip of my hoof and I went flyin’; my hands flailin’ forward as I slammed down, my hoof and nostrils shovin’ painfully into the rock even though I tried to stop myself with my arm strength—
   I don’t think I was out for long. Next thing I knew, Kirri was on my back, pressin’ me down onto the cold hard floor. Snortin’ hard, I spewed blood out one nostril as her arm tightened around my neck. My breath rattled down my throat, and I could feel the beatin’ of my heart in my ears.
   “Shean, tell me everything about the ship that rescued you.”
   Bein’ small, I’d always had problems with bullies. At least I hadn’t gone to a human school. “Ain’t it all on video? You must have se-”
   Her arm clenched tighter, and I couldn’t breathe. I struggled, but she was near twice my size. It was no contest. My body ached to run, but I couldn’t, and that just made me clench in panic and fear. “Shean, I don’t have time for this. I need to know; the tape is classified, even Mike couldn’t get it.”
   “Who—who’s Mike?”
   “Shut up!” she hissed, tightenin’ her arm a tad. “Just answer the damned question.”
   “You’ll just kill me anyway. Where’d the other passage go? Dead end? Pits? And—if the—if the information is so damned important to you—why’d you plan to leave me to die?”
   “Never you mind! Made sense at the time, use you as a decoy, ask you later. But, oh no, you had to come this way with—”
   From behind us I heard voices piercin’ through the darkness. “Light shows a fork up ahead. You two take the left, the rest with me.”
   “Shit!” she screeched. I felt her crawlin’ over me, foot-claws tearin’ at my flesh, and then she hurried off.
   For a moment I just shook my head, snorted more blood out of one nostril. I thought about waitin’, but that wouldn’t be no better. At least if I stayed with her, I’d be reasonably certain there were no more traps. Draggin’ myself to my hooves, I sneezed, and then licked my nostrils, feelin’ blood ooze out of a cut. Hell… Crouchin’ down, I clomped after her, the sound of my hooves echoin’ loudly all around.
   From behind us I heard: “They’re down this way! Everybody follow!”
   Fuck! Well, nothin’ for it. It wasn’t long till I felt Kirri’s tail against my muzzle, and then I slowed.
   “Why couldn’t you have taken the other way! You’d have been the perfect decoy!”
   “Where the hell does that go?”
   “Dead end. With your hooves they’d have followed you, and I’d have had more time.”
   Snortin’, I licked some more blood off my nostril. “I don’t think they’re any faster than you.”
   “Just shut up. It’s going to take me a week to clean the dust out of my knee fur.”
   “You coulda just asked me, you know.”
   “Asked you about what?”
   “About the ship that saved me. Big tall thing. No life support I could see, no control capsule. No clue where the pilot was. Couldn’t be a Brain.”
   “More details would be nice. Mike’ll ask for them.”
   “This Mike, he your leader or somethin’?”
   “I can’t tell you that!”
   A horrible thought popped into my head. It couldn’t be—I remembered an old book about a revolution off Earth, led by Mike—Couldn’t be. No bloody way. “You folks plannin’ to win your freedom from Earth by throwin’ rocks on it from an electromagnetic catapult?”
   She stopped and then screeched as I trotted into her. “How’d you know that?”
   Somehow I managed to keep my balance. I still didn’t believe it, but it never hurt to ask. “Mike’s the Brain on New Ceres, isn’t he?”
   For a second there was silence, except for the distant sound of crawlin’ from behind. “How the fuck do you know that!?”
   I just could not help but burst out laughin’.
   “This isn’t funny! You’re sticking with me, we need to talk.” I heard her start crawlin’ again.
   “You’re idiots. Your entire revolution is a pile of damn-fool idiots!”
   “Shut up! Just shut up! At least we’re trying to do something!”
   “There’s nothin’ we can do! It’ll get better in time.” I saw a light up ahead.
   “There’s far too many like you, you know. Too lazy to fight for what’s right. Too stupid to see that they need to. The Brains are trying to help, but there’re too many humans who hate us!”
   “You want to revolt, Kirri? Fine. But maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t use a novel for a template. A novel the humans can read, too!”
   “What!?”
   “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, by Robert A Heinlein. It’s about how a lunar penal colony revolts against Earth, with the aid of a sentient computer named Mycroft—‘Mike’ for short.”
   “Coincidence,” she said, but she sounded a mite doubtful.
   “The damn Brain here’s playin’ with you. When we get out, I’m gone. You can go and get hanged on your own.”
   “Shean… I think… I think we may have gotten off on the wrong paw. We’re almost out. Come with me to see the Doc. We can talk in a civilized manner. You can hear our story.”
   “Doc?” My eyes widened, though she couldn’t see. “You mean Robert de la Tierra?” That was old Doc Tierra, a human who lived on the Rock. Nobody knew what he did, or why he was there. What he was, was a kind of jack of all trades. If you wanted to learn how to do somethin’, you asked him. I’d hired him to tutor me in orbital calculus when the Brains on Earth tightened up the licensin’ requirements for pilots. He was probably the smartest guy I’d ever met, other than the Brains. If he was in this rebellion, maybe there was somethin’ to it. “He’s a part of the revolution?”
   “Who knows? He gives me advice, but he’s not a member of any cell I’m aware of.”
   “Well, then. Lead on.”

   As I’d half-expected, the tunnel let out in the west corner of Ceres Park. The entrance was hidden inside the stone wall that surrounded the park, in a cul-de-sac you couldn’t see unless you were damn near on top of it.
   Those days, the Rock’s interior was pretty bland—the sculptin’ had barely begun. There were lots of rough stone buildin’s made of rockcrete poured into sculpted molds and artificially weathered by sandblastin’. Those first buildin’s were tough, sealed, and with doors and windows designed to stay airtight in case o’ sudden pressure loss. The park, like everywhere else, was naked rock, ’cept with some paths smoothed out of the same poured and sculpted rockcrete. Rock crushers were workin’ to create the beginnin’s of soil, and water was bein’ shipped up as fast as we could carry it. The light tubes along the axis had been put in, and were on all the time—day and night schedules were for the future. All around echoed the distant sounds of machinery, construction, and the odd curse barely audible in the distance.
   My nostrils wrinkled at the dry dust in the air, and I sneezed as my hooves clopped on the dull rock followin’ behind Kirri as she hurried, both of us naked as the day we was foaled. Nudity wasn’t outlawed, but it wasn’t appreciated either. Fortunately, the Doc didn’t live too far. Once the Rock was finished, he’d have a nice home overlookin’ the park and a burblin’ fountain, but right now it was all dry rock and rubble. She jumped off the path and I followed, slippin’ and almost losin’ my balance in the coarse gravel. Soon my hooves were sore, and I coulda sworn a shard was stuck in the soft part. I cursed her, makin’ me leave my rubber hoofboots behind, but we arrived at the Doc’s place afore I got pissed enough to say anythin’. She knocked, her knuckles rappin’ sharp an’ loud on the fake-wood-paneled carbon-fibre-composite entrance. A camera clicked on, silence, and then the door latch clunked.
   The Doc, a human, stood there, spotlit in the raw glow from the light tubes, eyes blinkin’. He smelled of pipe smoke, and wore old-style clothin’ and spectacles on his eyes. Nobody had any clue why he hadn’t got his eyes fixed, but there was all kinds of rumours.
   “Miss Galgane! Dare I enquire about your friend?” His voice was deep for a human’s, short and gruff and impatient.
   “We need to talk. In private. About, you know—”
   “Ah.” He winked. “About coming to your senses, I hope. Do come in, both of you, won’t you please? Just follow me, and don’t touch anything. Kirri, I’ll thank you to be good enough to close the door behind you. It’s good to see you again, Shean!” With that he turned, stridin’ quickly off into the dimly lit interior. Kirri followed close behind, her claws clickin’ on the stone tiles, and I scurried after, first closin’ the heavy door. My hooves clattered on the stone and I staggered, barely catchin’ myself. Yep, my hoof had a stone caught. Leanin’ against the wall and balancin’ on one hoof, I lifted the other and picked at it with one finger. The sensitive skin tickled and I finally felt the tiny rock shard stuck in it.
   Kirri padded her way back to me. “Get a move on! The Doctor’s a busy man!”
   “Just give me a second!”
   “I’ll give you–”
   “Miss Galgane! Surely you didn’t lead him across the gravel, did you? Don’t you know anything? Such ill-treatment might well have lamed him, and that’s the last thing he needs. Is there any assistance I might offer you, Shean?”
   “Apologies for my appearance, but I got dragged here with very little warnin’. Not your fault.” The stone was stubborn, too small for me to get a good grip on. “If you’ve a spoon or a pick, or even a knife, I’d surely appreciate it.”
   He pulled a massive knife out of a scabbard on his belt, flipped it, and handed it to me hilt-first. Noddin’, I took it and pried the damn rock out. It finally came, pinged off a wall and a bead of blood formed. It’d heal. I let my hoof clomp to the floor and put some weight on it… yeah, it’d do. “Thanks, Doc.” Handin’ his knife back, I held it carefully by its blade as he’d done.
   “Hmph! It would be a most excellent thing if people could make an effort to accommodate the frailties of their fellow passengers on this Rock. Come along, then.” He turned and walked off, his soft shoes paddin’ on the floor as Kirri and I followed. We passed one door and reached another which he opened and motioned us in. The room was bare, consistin’ of some chairs, a table, and stark bare walls. A single flickerin’ fluorescent lit the place. “Please, do go in, be seated. Miss Galgane, might I impose on you to explain why you two are here?”
   I trotted over, limpin’ a bit, and sat down on one of the cheap chairs that was too big for me. Meanwhile, the Doc took out a pipe, a tiny thing of ivory, and lit it. Soon his face was surrounded by thick, reekin’ clouds o’ black smoke. Hadn’t he heard from the Brains how foul that stuff was, how bad it was for his health?
   “Shean’s rescue,” she said. “I was going to get the details from him this evening, but some uninvited guests spoiled my plans—Company goons. I left, of course. And Shean insisted on coming along, and, well, here we are.”
   I started. “Okay Kirri, why do you need to know about what happened to me? Why does Mike need to know?”
   “There’s a rumour… On Earth they’ve solved the Brain life-support problem. Made it small, portable—”
   Of course! Small enough to put in a ship. No visible life support capsule. Twenty-five G acceleration. The tone of voice, all the ‘God Willin’ crap. The unbelievably lucky pilotin’. It had to be a Brain— “Fine. It was a Brain runnin’ that ship. Nothin’ else is possible. The pilotin’ was too precise. So what?”
   “Shean, you should be with us! We furs are downtrodden. We have no rights—”
   “Kirri, UN Amendment 15812c. We have the same legal rights as anybody else.”
   “But they don’t treat us the same! We get thrown out here so they don’t have to go—”
   “’Cause we’re better at a lot of jobs than humans are, and space don’t give anybody no breaks.”
   “Have you been on Earth? Tried to go to their washrooms? Tried to ride on their magtrains?”
   “Have you read any history? Humanity used to be divided, they used to have their own lower class. Now the blacks and Indians have the same rights. It just takes time.”
   “Humanity are the wolves, we’re their sheep! Their slaves! We get all the dirty, risky jobs! They stay in their homes, watch the reality shows we die in. The Brains do the thinking, we do the slaving and the dying! How can you support that?”
   “I don’t! I support me. I came out here to make my own way—do somethin’ I’m better at than anyone else, pay for my own air, water, an’ food. To make my own life as I choose. Humans are out here for the same reason I am! They can’t do anythin’ on Earth any more, the Brains—”
   “But the Brains want to help us!”
   Right about then’s when it hit me, well an’ truly. I whispered, realizin’ myself what was goin’ to happen. “The Brains do everythin’ on Earth. Cheaper, faster, more efficient. Humanity used to work, struggle, but… they stopped. More and more stayed home. More and more chose to be upgraded into Brains. The rest went to space. Life support for a human was cheaper than the complex system needed by the bio-cybernetic systems of the Brains…”
   For the first time, the Doc seemed to pay attention, turnin’ to look at me.
   Oblivious, Kirri asked, “What the hell are you talking about, Shean!?”
   “And now there’s Brains that can compete with me!” I slumped back into the chair.
   “So what? The Brains want to help us!” the vixen repeated.
   “Of course they do! They want to help us like they helped humanity! Make us stay in our homes watchin’ the TV they create, waitin’ till we’re all dead or we’ve all joined them! Well, I say fuck ’em! Fuck ’em all!”
   “What?”
   “Think, damn you! Use some of that brain the gengineers programmed into you! You’re here to pleasure us workers; we’re here ’cause we’re cheaper than Brains or robots. Now there’s Brains that can do what we do in ships. If I live that long, I’ll be shipped back to Earth with no job… live on public support ’til I get killed on one’a them reality shows, or die of old age in front of the vid, or join them as a Brain. And when I go, and the rest of us jockeys, and tunnel workers, then you’ll follow. Eventually, there’ll be nothin’ in space but Brains!
   “Don’t you see!? It doesn’t matter! Say you revolt, everythin’ works like clockwork, you get recognized as a state. The little Brains start doin’ all the hard work, you end up in your little room watchin’ the vid they create, or joinin’ them! The damn Brains win! It’s a game to them! Somethin’ to keep them amused!”
   “I don’t believe you.”
   The Doc’s voice was harsh and cold when he finally broke in. “Kirri, it does not please me to speak so to a woman, but… you’re a fool. A smart one, to be sure, but a fool all the same. I’ll have to ask both of you to come with me; we need to seriously talk.” He got up and puffed out a cloud of black smoke that clung to his stringy white hair. Havin’ nothin’ better to do, and curious now, I got up and limped clompily after him. Kirri snorted and followed. The Doc led us out and down the hallway, through a door, down another short hall, through another door, and down a staircase carved out of the Rock. I hated staircases, with my digitigrade stance it was always a pain to use ’em without bangin’ my ankles. Well, at least he’d provided a railin’, which I clung to for dear life as I backed down. I followed him into a long, carpeted room lined with honest-to-God books. I could tell that most had been printed and bound on the Rock, but there were a few hundred that’d been shipped up—their scent was rich and old, distinctive and unforgettable. That scent—I remembered checkin’ ’em off a manifest; at the time I figured they was for a museum or somethin’. Must have cost him a fortune.
   “If you’ll pardon me for a moment, I’ll get some wine. In the meantime, please do make yourselves comfortable. I rather suspect that this is likely to take a long time.” With a long whooshin’ sigh of release I sat down on one of the padded chairs, pushin’ myself up until my hooves hung off the floor. Kirri’s eyes were damn near bouncin’ off the walls; for some reason, she wasn’t happy. The Doc opened a cupboard, threw some switches, and I felt the hairs in my ears tingle slightly from sudden static in the air.
   “What’d you do, Doc?”
   “A bit of electronic wizardry, the better to ensure we’re not being eavesdropped upon. Granted, there is no way to be absolutely certain, but this contraption will flummox every listening device I’ve ever heard of.” He pulled out a bottle and a pair of glasses and filled them both.
   “You’ve never taken me here!” Kirri screeched.
   “No, I have not, Kirri. And that is for the simple reason that I never had anything important to talk to you about. If you would do me the courtesy of keeping your mouth closed while your ears are not, perhaps you might learn something. Shean,” he leaned over and handed me a glass of a thick red liquid before sittin’ down, “I’ll thank you to tell me, in detail, what you know about this Brainship.”
   I told him. When I was done he sat for a while, puffin’ on his pipe until a cloud of bluish smoke orbited about his head. Meanwhile, Kirri found a glass and poured herself some of the wine. I’d only sipped at mine; never cared much for it, though this was rich and smooth.
   Finally the Doc spoke. “There are times when being right is not a pleasant thing… Shean, I fear your information confirms something that I’ve long dreaded the coming of. It is the harbinger of a future I have devoutly wished would never arrive—or, if it were inevitable, that it would at least have the decency to wait until after I was safely dead.”
   “What?” Kirri asked.
   “I can sum it up in four dire words: The end of freedom. The reason I chose to emigrate to the Rock is because I could see where the world was going. Our equine friend is quite right, Kirri: With the advent of the Brains, humanity’s range of viable lifestyles has become depressingly limited. And none of the available options appealed to me; I’m too fond of corporeal existence to become a Brain, my physical attributes render me decidedly unsuitable for the reality games, and I’ve far too large a ‘bump of curiousity’ to set my intellect aside and eventually devolve into a couch potato. Up here, my choices are without limit; I’ve been able to dabble in whatever I please, as I please. But that will end when the Brains replace everybody. After all, space is hazardous, and why should non-Brains risk themselves?”
   I poked at that for a bit as he puffed. “Then we have to leave. Someplace we don’t need the Brains, and we can make our own way. There’s no other option.”
   “Go where?” Kirri asked.
   “That my dear, is the question,” the Doc said as he refilled his pipe. “First ‘where’, and then ‘how’. There is a habitable planet close at hand, to be sure, but in view of its current masters…”
   “You mean Earth,” I said.
   “Precisely,” Doc said. “Earth, and no other world in the Solar System. This being the case, brute necessity dictates that we must needs take our own life support with us. Perhaps we might need to go as far as the asteroids—”
   Then I saw it; if I’d been religious, I’d have said it was a vision. “Asteroids aîn’t far enough. Even if we just go, sooner or later they’ll follow. We have t’ go so far that the Brains won’t ever find us, or so far there’s room for us both. We need our own planet. Nothin’ less will do.”
   The Doc nodded.
   Kirri asked, “What do you mean ‘our own planet’? You said it yourself, there aren’t any—”
   “Zeta Tucanae. The Grand Planetary Survey found a planet with the right spectrograph for water, and the right size for a terrestrial planet, orbiting Zeta Tucanae.”
   “Zeta Tucanae?” Kirri burst out. “Where’s that—you’re not talking about another star, are you!?”
   The Doc asked, “Indeed he is. But… why not the asteroids, if I may ask? Why should it not suffice to emigrate to the outer moons, or even, at the most, the Oort cloud?”
   Shakin’ my head, I answered. Wasn’t that important to me, this discussion was all hypothetical anyway. Just a logical extension of the facts bein’ talked about. “They’re no good, Doc. Anywhere in the System, the Brains can follow too easy. If they got an antimatter drive, which’d explain the acceleration, they could probably make it to Pluto in a week. We gotta go so far they won’t want to follow us.”
   “But—but—star flight isn’t possible!”
   “Sure it is, Kirri. Take New Ceres: When it’s finished, it’ll be fully self-contained. The Orion drive’s more’n capable of drivin’ an interstellar ship, guaranteed. That’s a fact, known since it got thought up in the twentieth century. All we need’s the will and the supplies.”
   The Doc rubbed his nose. “Presuming my knowledge of the construction timeline to be accurate—” It was, knowin’ Doc. “—the drive shall be re-installed within a year or so, after which it shall maneuver us to our final orbit around Earth. However, there is a logistical problem: We won’t have a sufficient quantity of water. According to the Company’s schedule of events, the Rock will continue to import water for another twenty-one months.”
   “So we make our own schedule,” I said with a shrug. “There’s lots of ice out there—Saturn’s rings, a shitload o’ Kuiper Belt objects, a bigger shitload out in the Oort. Should probably grab some and stick it on the bow for shieldin’—”
   “Men!” Kirri burst out. “Your plan is all fine and dandy, but the people won’t go for it. They won’t want to leave Earth.”
   I watched the Doc answer. “Kirri, I think you fail to appreciate the extent to which public opinion may be manipulated, if not outright manufactured. It is merely a question of how best to present the facts in order to yield the desired amount and degree of persuasion. Thus, it would be most appropriate to keep our fellow Rock-rats very well-informed of the Brains’ cruel and amoral manipulations, but for the present, there is no need to tell them any more of our plan than that it involves moving New Ceres somewhere out beyond Saturn. Once we’re underway, and the actual state of affairs is a fait accompli, then it will be time enough for the Voice of the People to be heard in all its majesty and ineffable wisdom. And, of course, if the Brains do choose to pursue us, what choice would we have but to go further?”
   Her eyes brightened. “Well, at least we have the existing rebellion for a starting—”
   “You sure ’bout that?” I interrupted. “You absolutely sure? Old rebellion’s run by a Brain. No way in Hell you can trust ’em. Your old set-up’s compromised an’ a joke, right from the start. What you need’s a whole new, well, everything.”
   “But—it’s run by Mike! Of course we can trust him!” Damn. She hadn’t heard a word I’d said earlier, had she? “He’s got our best interests at heart! He’s helping us agains-”
   “Kirri!” the Doc broke in. “I will thank you to shut up and listen. Do take note of the information I shall impart to you now, because I’m only going to say it once. Look at Earth: Now, and for the foreseeable future, that world’s populace is made up of precisely three kinds of sophonts. Imprimus, those who sit in their rooms watching vid; secundus, those who want to become Brains; and tertius, those who are Brains. Perhaps you might deign to inform us which of those groups you would be most comfortable as a member of? Would you like to give up all the fundamental aspects of your physical existence in order to become a soulless machine? Perhaps you’d rather spend the rest of your days sitting in a comfortable chair, all of your excretory plumbing hooked up to tubes, watching reality games until what’s left of your atrophied brain dribbles out your ears?”
   “Of course not! But Mike told me that we could live in freedom here on New Ce-”
   Since the Doc was on a roll, I let him school her a second time. “Kirri, it is not a question of expressed intentions. Rather, it is a question of the inevitable unfolding of economic and historical processes. We are going to revolt against the Company, and against the Brains; very well. What do you think is going to happen afterwards? If we are unsuccessful, we are all likely to end up dead, so there is no ‘afterwards’ to consider. But if we are successful… what then?”
   “Well…” The pretty little vixen furrowed her pretty little brow. “If we win… we win! Isn’t that what we want?”
   Doc sighed. “Of course. Kirri, have you any concept of what sort of people are coming up to New Ceres? What demographic categories they fall into, what skill-sets and innate aptitudes they possess?”
   “They’re workers. Support crew. Entertainers for the workers that will live here as more people move into orbit.”
   “Correct. Now, Kirri, exactly how much of the Rock’s volume do you believe is required to accomodate those worthies? More importantly, how much space will be required for that purpose in future? Think! Use that blood-bathed brain of yours. We know that Brains can now have their biological support made smaller than a sophont’s—even smaller than Shean’s over there.”
   I nodded. Doc wasn’t sayin’ anythin’ I hadn’t already said, but Kirri needed to get it through her skull.
   “From now on,” Doc said, “a Brain needs no more than a small ship, possibly smaller than any shuttle we have now. Whatever electrical power he shall need, solar panels can more than provide it. Should he require gravity, it will be trivially easy to spin his ship for that purpose. Naturally, he shall have mechanical manipulators of some sort, the better to physically interact with his immediate environment. He will be able to move about in orbit at no cost in fuel or reaction mass; his ship will have all manner of conductive wires in it, exploiting the Earth’s magnetic field for thrust as if it were part of an planet-sized electric dynamo.” Kirri looked like she wanted to interrupt, but Doc spotted it and didn’t let her: “The particular technology I here speak of has been in use by a variety of satellites for rather more than a century, so one can hardly object that it’s either hypothetical or untried. But I digress. In any case: This Brain will of course have a living component… but that component’s organic needs will be sufficiently restricted that they can be satisfied with nothing more than gene-tailored algae. So, the question becomes: Can the likes of you, I, or Shean compete with that?”
   She didn’t look worried, just puzzled. “Well… no, I don’t suppose…”
   “Nor do I, Kirri. Nor do I. Therefore, the exigencies of economic efficiency ensure that conventional personnel must, and eventually will, be wholly displaced by Brains. Exactly what percentage of spaceborne Brains do you imagine will choose to avail themselves of the leisure activities you provide, if I may ask?”
   Now she got it. I scratched my chin for a second. “Then why’s the Company still workin’ on the Rock? The Brains must know what’s goin’ to happen. They’d have told the Company that New Ceres will go bust real fast. And yet, in the past six months they’ve pushed up immigration. Haven’t had the time for proper maintenance, that’s probably why Hermes pranged. And we keep bringin’ up more and more people…”
   Doc gestured at me. “And here we have two fine specimens of the other type of sophont, Kirri—us, he and I. We who are the dreamers, the doers, those who wish to learn, who want challenges. There’s nothing for us on Earth, because whatever we might want to do, the Brains do it better. There was a time when we unfortunate pure-organic types could at least compete in orbit, to be sure… but that era will soon be ancient history.”
   In a quiet voice I speculated, “I wonder if they’re tryin’ to get us up here—all of us dreamers an’ troublemakers—so it’s easier to take us out—”
   Kirri burst in with, “That’s insane!”
   “Is it, truly?” the Doc asked. “That scenario is merely a logical consequence of the innate characteristics of Brains as compared to pure-organic sophonts—and the Brains are nothing if not logical.”
   “There’s also a bunch o’ facts that don’t make no sense if I’m wrong,” I pointed out. “Like, did’ja know they’ve cut the immigration fee in half? Why d’ you suppose the Company’s enticin’ people to jump onto a train wreck in the makin’? And how come there ain’t no medical clinic whatsoever up here that can Brainify a body?”
   “Well, the Company has psychological profiles of all us emigrants—they know we’re not likely to want to become Brains. It’s not some kind of evil conspiracy; it’s just that it wouldn’t make sense for them… to spend…” Kirri looked at us, looked from one to the other. Slowly her ears and tail slumped. “Good God…”
   “It would appear that this problem is one I shall have to deal with after all,” the Doc said. “So much for the vaunted blessings of modern medicine… Kirri, we simply cannot involve the Brains at all. Not a one of them in general, and especially not Mike in particular. This, of course, means that the existing rebel network cannot be involved with our work; if it is, he will be involved.”
   She sighed, her tail limp on the ground. “So we start over. Do it the old fashioned way.” She grinned, “At least we can use the old rebellion as a decoy, keep the cops busy.”
   Chills ran up and down my spine. Suddenly this had all gone from theoretical, to real. Maybe I could advise them… Snortin’, I shook my head. I knew this wasn’t goin’ to work, and yet, what other choice did I have? Sure, I could have just let fate make me obsolete, it would have been easier. But maybe this would give me a shot at the stars. At least it’ll be good for somethin’. “So Doc, Kirri, you two got any plans? I’m just the dumb rocket jock who stumbled into this.”
   The Doc refilled his pipe. “I think you underestimate yourself, dear boy. Be that as it may, I must acknowledge that I’ve given this topic a certain amount of thought ever since I got up here, and I flatter myself that my insights and conclusions may be of some value here and now. As I see it, the success of this enterprise is critically dependent upon three things We must control the drive system, we must control local space traffic, and above all, we must deal with Mike when the time comes.”
   Kirri nodded. “Looks like it’s going to be up to us to lead the rebellion.”
   “Naturally,” Doc said. “Of course, the optimal cell system dictates three-member cells… including the leadership.”
   It actually took me a moment to realize Doc was talkin’ about draggin’ me into this mess. Me! “What!?” Snortin’, I turned my muzzle to look directly at one, and then the other. “I don’t want to lead a rebellion! I won’t tell, but count me out.”
   The Doc looked at me. “Excuse me, Shean, but given the sentiments you expressed earlier, may I ask what else you would rather be doing? For instance, would you prefer to die in the reality games? It’s what you’ll end up doing if you survive long enough. Everything else will be too boring for you.”
   Kirri scratched her muzzle. “Okay, I accept that we need to do something, but I’m still not willing to accept that the Brains are evil—”
   “Thankfully, you needn’t do so,” Doc said. “The Company is run by Brains, just as is virtually every company, correct? And the Company’s management makes its soullessly efficient decisions, regardless of the cost in sophont lives. Tell me, Kirri: When poorly-maintained equipment causes deaths, does it matter to the corpses whether their demise was actively desired or, instead, that the possibility of harm to employees was deemed an acceptable risk? Whether the Brains are evil or good, they are most assuredly a threat!”
   “Dunno if they're evil, m'self… but why else’d they yank the survival bags out o’ the shuttles? I mean, are trained pilots so common we’re that easy t’ replace?”
   “A most cogent query, Shean, and one to which I don’t know the answer. Something doesn’t add up here, I freely admit it. But it hardly matters whether the Brains are carrying out a hidden agenda, or are, instead, actively evil; either way, they simply cannot be trusted! In any case, the rebellion is a necessity—and it should be fun!”
   “Fun, Doc?” Kirri asked.
   “Indubitably! This shall be the most fun I’ve had in years. It’s true that we risk getting caught, with the attendant spectre of who-knows-what punishments, but the intrinsic hazard only adds to the spice! But regardless of whether we win or lose, at least we’ll have tried. And that will put us a cut above most of the walking dead out there.”
   I sighed and flicked my ears. I had a bad feelin’ about this—a bad feelin’ o’ bein’ sucked down a drain and into the dark depths of disaster. “Well… if you’re goin’ to do this thing, you’ll need the head of the engine team, Phillip Alexandros. There’s also Darrvid Ruprecht, he’s in charge o’ near space control—you’ll need him on board to sneak anythin’ by.”
   “Of course,” the Doc said. “And we shall also need someone to be the rebellion’s public face—a personage who is known, and has desirable associations.”
   “That’s me!” the vixen said. “If you want someone associated with desire, I’m your girl!”
   “Ah… thank you, Kirri, but no. Neither you nor I are suitable candidates, albeit for different reasons. Rather, I believe Shean—”
   “No way, Doc! I don’t do politics!”
   The Doc, Bob, reached out a hand. “Shean, please reconsider. The rebellion needs you—we need you. If we’re in this, we’re in this together, ‘until death do us part’.”
   My head was spinnin’. “You’re goin’ too fast! I won’t play figurehead, and I can’t be a real leader, not for somethin’ like this. I’m just a damn rocket jock, for God’s sake! Who are we to decide for everybody off of Earth? What right do we have? You want it, you can have it!”
   “We have the right of brute necessity—the right of those who do a job that must be done. Nobody else is doing it; therefore, it’s up to us to take responsibility for our lives, and for the future of our world.” He stood up and turned, pullin’ a worn leather book off the shelf. “To be sure, the odds that one or more of us—perhaps all of us—will die are quite significant. Unlike certain fictional revolutionaries, we haven’t a convenient deus ex machina at hand to run the revolt for us, or guide us with probability projections. But in all honesty, and all good conscience, what choice do we have?” He turned and looked at me. “Shean, this struggle is going to be ugly. People will die. Our success is far from certain. There is even a good chance that we shall end up dead at the hands of the people to whose benefit we directed our labors. Nevertheless… your contacts and your reputation will be invaluable. We need you, Shean. The future needs you.”
   “You ain’t much good at speeches, Doc.” I should know—used to be on the debate team.
   “Shean,” Kirri said in a cold voice, “you know that we can’t risk spies. If you don’t—”
   The Doc motioned for Kirri to be quiet and looked at me. Looked deep into my eyes. “Shean, you know that I abhor coercion; I won’t even attempt to force you. As well, you know the price, both of success and failure. And, finally, you know what your options are; either you elect to join us, or you knowingly accept obsolescence. What do you have to lose? Isn’t it better to die for a hope, to die trying, than to surrender before the fight even starts? Shean, it’s up to you.”
   “Now tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” I snorted. “Hell, I’m the one who figured it out! What makes you think I care if I’m obsolete, Doc? You got any idea what a spaceship pilot’s life expectancy is? Odds are, I’ll be dead long before they get around to discardin’ me!”
    “Very well, Shean. If that truly is your choice, I won’t even try to dissuade you from abandoning this necessary venture. But if you’ll allow me to, I would ask you one question before you leave: If you walk away, you will have left untold numbers of innocent lives in harm’s way when you had the power to do something about it.
   “Is that the sort of person you want to be?”
   Pullin’ my ears down, I shook my head. I wished I had a tail to whip back and forth, but wishin’ wouldn’t help anythin’. The logic was irrefutable—hell, I’d seen the problem myself. Either try this, or end up out of work and livin’ off the state like near everybody else… I kicked the leg of my chair, hard, with a hoof; the composite cracked, and I stumbled onto my hooves on the floor with a loud clomp, and then fell all tangled up.
   I sighed. “Fine. We’re here. I’m here. If you want me, you got me. Let’s do it. I guess somebody has to.”

   “So Darrvid, what’s the ETA on my ship? They won’t tell me anythin’.”
   It was a few days later, I’d invited Darrvid out for a drink. To be with a friend, to relax, to thank him for what he’d done… and to recruit him into this revolution I’d found myself in. I was supposed to trust the people I recruited, and there was nobody off Earth I trusted more than Darrvid. The Doc gave me one of his bug-jammin’ gizmoes and I’d sat us in a semi-private booth. Darrvid never could stand hamburgers, poor bastard, so I was sharin’ wings with him.
   Darrvid yawned, his muzzle stretchin’ wide open showin’ off all his teeth, and I couldn’t help but shudder. I knew he’d never eat me—hell, I was an omnivore m’self, as it made the internal plumbin’ more efficient—but y’ don’t dump a million years of evolution that easy. “Still going to be a couple of weeks. At least they think they know what happened!”
   “Oh? Do tell.”
   “The current theory is that the last maintenance check wasn’t up to spec. The tech, what was his name..? Ensign Kenneth Lamber, I think. Right, this Lamber checked you off as clear. The scuttlebutt that I’ve picked up said he had a hot date and was running behind schedule.”
   “Lamber? Don’t recognize the name.”
   “It happened at the High York side of your run. Wouldn’t let that crap happen here.”
   I sighed, foldin’ one ear down. “Nobody gives a damn any more, do they? You’d think he’d have cared—”
   “Shean,” Darrvid lowered his voice, “the guy’s human.”
   “Don’t tell me you’ve bought into that ‘all humans hate us’ crap!”
   Darrvid wolfed down a couple spicy chicken wings. Well, they claimed to be made of chicken, leastways. I had my doubts. “Shean, they do hate us. We need to do something about it.”
   “It’ll pass.”
   He lowered his voice and leaned close, the thick stench of garlic caressin’ my nostrils. “Shean, we need to do something. The world isn’t going to change.”
   I blinked, and finished off my beer. “Refills!” Then I lowered my voice to match his. “Fine, we gotta do somethin’. What d’ we do? That’s one of the reasons I came up here. Guess I’ll have to inspect the shuttle myself next time.”
   “Old friend, you’re far too trusting a person. It’s not going to change. Have you—”
   Darrvid flicked his ears as the barmaid, a female squirrel, approached with our refills. And more wings. He winked as new glasses clunked down in front of us, and then the basket of wings. She left, wigglin’ her behind, her tail wavin’ like a long furry snake.
   I could smell a hamburger she was takin’ to somebody else… “Ah, you were sayin’?”
   “There’s a group of us who are planning on doing something about it.”
   I stared at him, my ears erect and alert. It couldn’t be..! It’d be too funny. A joke. I giggled, and then grabbed a wing and tore off the meat. The spice tore at my lips, burned my nostrils, but didn’t clear my head. I giggled again.
   “What’s so funny, Shean?”
   I lowered my voice and leaned so close that my exhaled breath rustled the hairs on his muzzle. “You tellin’ me you’re part of those mutineers?” A snicker burst past my lips.
   He blinked.
   “Gonna overthrow the company by throwin’ damn big rocks with the aid of Mike the Brain?”
   Cockin’ his head, he whispered, “You a member, too?”
   I started laughin’, and couldn’t stop. Others in the bar turned and looked at me, but I was oblivious. Tears poured down my face, and I started coughin’ as Darrvid stood up t’ pound on my back. By the time the humour poured out of me, I’d spilled my drink, and was cradlin’ the sides of my head below my eyes in my hands, with my chin restin’ on the damp table. At least Darrvid had the presence of mind to rescue the wings from drownin’.
   “Shean, you all right? No more beers for you tonight. This isn’t funny! Things can’t go on as they are.”
   “Darrvid, if only you knew… If only…” I leaned back, the bench creakin’, and nickered in disbelief and amazement, beer drippin’ from my chin.
   “Shean, maybe this isn’t the best time.”
   “Darrvid.” I leaned close and whispered into his ear: “What would you think if I said I came here tonight to recruit you?”
   “You—recruit—me..?”
   He howled with laughter. The Rock’s gravity is pretty low; that’s how I grabbed the wings before they hit the table. I laughed with him. We were in no danger of bein’ tossed out, just a couple of old friends sharin’ a joke. And we were; an insane, ironic joke. At least Darrvid managed to keep his beer, I had to signal for another refill. Tossin’ a tencoin to the waitress when she came, I also snagged some napkins to dry up the drink. Darrvid was still out of it. I soaked up most of the beer, and pulled out Doc’s little doohickey. Pushin’ the right sequence of buttons, I watched the light blink and change from green to red before puttin’ it beside the bowl of wings.
   “Oh God, Shean… I needed that, I really did. When you were going to die, I could almost see my life flashing before my eyes. If a company goon had shown up right then, I think I might have ripped his chest open right then and there. Thank God that Stapledon showed up!”
   I tore the meat off another wing and thought as he looked at me.
   “So, Shean.” He snickered. “Are you going to recruit me into your cell, or am I going to recruit you?”
   Swallowin’, I licked the spice off my lips, and then swallowed some beer. “Darrvid, I’m not a member of the mutineers.”
   “Then how do you—No way! No way in hell are you a company fink!”
   “Keep your voice down! Darrvid, just… just shut up a minute and listen to me. You know that Stapledon joker saved my butt?”
   “Of course! I just wish he could’ve stayed a bit, let me buy him a drink and thank him in person.”
   “You couldn’t have. He was a damned Brain.”
   “Impossible.”
   “Think about it. Think about what he did.” Then I laid out what I’d seen, and what Kirri said Mike had passed on. “That was a Brain.”
   “What’s wrong with that?”
   “We’re screwed is what’s wrong with that!”
   “Huh?”
   I explained, same as I had to Kirri. “And once they’re here, why do they need us? Think about it. Why are they makin’ all the furs want to come here? What’s goin’ on?”
   He sighed. “Okay, Shean… let’s say this is all true. If you aren’t in the Mutineers, then how do you know all this? I’m going to have to tell my cell leader—”
   “Darrvid, don’t! Didn’t you hear what I said? This is all a plot of the Brains! To get those of us who don’t fit up here and out of the way. All in one place, where they can get rid of us—real efficient-like. The damn Ceres Brain, Mike, is manipulatin’ all of you. There’s a new rebellion, one against the Brains. The real deal.”
   “What are you talking about?”
   “I’m talkin’ about you guys bein’ set up by the Brains! They’re pullin’ the strings, Darrvid. Hell, one’s runnin’ the old rebellion! There’s gotta be a new one, and that new one needs you.”
   “What about the old one? I can’t leave it.”
   “Then don’t. Just go on as normal—anythin’ else could tip off the Brains. Consider it a cover for the real revolution.”
   “Okay Shean, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say I join in. What’s the plan? More catapults?”
   I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. Tryin’ to cover my nervousness I gulped down half my beer. I hated lyin’ to a friend, especially Darrvid, but the Doc had hammered in that we had to practice security, and it had to start now. No exceptions. “Darrvid, I…”
   His nostrils wrinkled. I’d brought us here in the hopes that the spice and the alcohol would hide any cues I was givin’ off, but it seems it weren’t workin. “What’s wrong, Shean?”
   Pinchin’ my eyes shut, I tried to force myself to keep from shiverin’. “Darrvid, I’m… I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you everythin’. I wi—”
   “Is that all!?” He lowered his voice back to a whisper. “I’ve been in this business for a long time, I understand the realities.”
   That just made it harder. Swallowin’ again, I just forced out what I had to say. “Stayin’ near Earth won’t work. Brains are here, and nothin’ can stop ’em from infiltratin’, either by war or by peace. We have to get away, out of their reach. Not sure where. Maybe the asteroids, maybe Saturn, maybe further. I…” and here it came, “I don’t know.”
   Darrvid sighed and looked at me, his brown eyes borin’ into mine. “Shean… I…” He sighed, and his ears relaxed, foldin’ half down. “Shean, you do what you have to. I—I didn’t recruit you into the old rebellion because I knew you’re not the type of person to get into this sort of thing. Too kind and too forgiving. So, why now?”
   “Darrvid, it wasn’t easy. I’m still not sure.”
   “If you’re not damn sure then get out now!”
   “Darrvid, I am sure this has to be done. I can’t go back to Earth, not permanently anyway. Odds are I’ll die first from the crappy company equipment, but s’pose I don’t? What if I gotta retire, forced back to Earth to rot until I go mad? And, even if I die on the job, I can’t give up the responsibility to those who’ll be screwed. I… I just can’t.” I grabbed a wing and tore into it, turnin’ away so that I could see Darrvid clearly out of one eye. I hated this! I hated the lyin’, and I hated the necessity. But, the Doc was right. It had to be done.
   Darrvid reached over with a warm black-furred paw and laid it over mine. “Shean, those are damned good reasons. The best reasons. There’s no glory in this, I know that.”
   “How can you be so sure?”
   “You remember Iarrn Fromb?”
   “Yeah—” Time was, Iarrn was the best engineer on the docks. Silly lookin’ rabbit, one ear half chewed off from a gear, but he knew his stuff. About a year ago he’d vanished.
   “He was in the rebellion, too. Cell below me—I recruited him. The company goons cornered him and he cycled out through an airlock to make sure they didn’t break him.”
   All around us, oblivious to the tragedy, the vid kept blarin’, showin’ some reality bloodsport from Earth.
   “Fuck…” I whispered.
   “Yeah. Made me re-examine my commitment. Firmed it up an awful lot. Told me this wasn’t a game. Told me that something had to be done.”
   “Scuttlebutt said he’d gone Lunaside. Where’d that come from?”
   Darrvid didn’t flinch but looked me straight in my one eye. “I started it. Cover for the revolution, to try and convince the company that he knew nothing—their information was wrong.”
   “Oh God…”
   “Shean, I’m still here for his memory. I know you’re not telling me everything, and I don’t want to know. Hell, I wish I didn’t know you were involved. ’Cause of Iarrn I got some cyanide. Keep it with me always. Iarrn didn’t betray me, and I will not betray anybody else. Ever.” Reachin’ into the chest pocket of his shirt he pulled out a small capsule and clenched it in his hands. “Shean, if you’re serious about this, I… I think you should get one of these. Just in case.”
   I looked at what he was holdin’ and my spine felt cold. He was right, and yet… “I don’t know. I just don’t. My mind says you’re right, but…”
   “Listen to your mind.”
   “Why—why do we have to do this, Darrvid? So much wisdom in the past, so much pain and revolution and death, and we never learn. Never.”
   “Shean, it’s not us, it’s the humans. They have it in for—”
   “Darrvid! Shut up about the damn humans! Sure, some are assholes. I’d be the first to admit it. But not all. We’re not breakin’ away from the humans, we’re breakin’ away from the Brains. There’re humans in this new rebellion, and they’re welcome. And when we leave, there’ll be humans along with us. Darrvid, we’re all in this together. Don’t let your hatred cloud your vision.”
   “Goddamnit all! You know what they did to me!”
   “Darrvid, I know. And you know just as well as I do that all humans ain’t slime, just like all furs ain’t saints.”
   “What do you expect me to do?”
   “I expect you to do the best you can. When this is over, if we survive, give the people who come out with—an’ I mean all the people—give ’em a little trust. At least until they betray it. Is that so hard?”
   “Shean, you have no clue how hard that is. No clue at all!”
   Turnin’ my head I looked at him, focusin’ my cone of depth perception on his close set eyes. “No Darrvid, I don’t. And I’m thankful I don’t. I wouldn’t want anybody to live through the hell you did, least of all me. But, you can’t let your passions rule you. If we’re goin’ to make this work, make this a better world, then we can’t keep people out just because of what they look like! And we can’t let people in for just the same reason.”
   “I don’t know…”
   “Darvid, you’re a better person than those bastards. Don’t let their memory turn you into what they were. Please don’t.”
   “You know, we’ve had this conversation before. It never seems to change anything, does it?”
   I put my other hand on top of his. “Well, Darrvid, all anybody can do is the best we can. It’s all I ask. Just try.”
   “I… Shean, I’ve—”
   “You don’t need to say anythin’. I know. So: You in, or you out?”
   “Shean… I… Okay, I’m in. Hell, was there any doubt once you asked me? If I had a voice in this, I’d say you should be leading the thing.”
   I snorted, drops of beer specklin’ my nostrils. If only he knew… “Darrvid… I…” I could feel my ears burnin. “Thanks for the trust.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out one of the Doc’s jammers and handed it over. “This is for you. Use it whenever you talk about rebellion matters. As far as we know, it blocks all electronic eavesdroppin’. Second thing you have to remember is, we’re fightin’ the Brains. They’re smarter’n us, faster’n us, and we haveta assume they got all our possible moves an’ countermoves worked out. That means you talk about nothin’ in an unshielded area, and, as much as you can, figure out a reason to do things that has nothin’ to do with plottin’ rebellion. Just like I’m talkin’ to you now as a friend. Now, who you want for your cell members? We need to control New Ceres space, and that means we need your office. We need it solid. Once the bell rings, we need to make sure, abso-damn-lutely sure, that nothin’ gets on or off this rock. You got me?”
   “Of course I do, Shean. Why do you think they recruited me in the first place?”
   I snickered. “Good point. Just keep it in mind though. Your cell’s in charge of your office when it happens. You got to do this right.”
   Slowly Darrvid nodded.
   “So, any ideas for the next member? Doesn’t need to be somebody in charge, just somebody you know can manage, and somebody you trust.”
   “How about Grr—”
   “Don’t tell me! I don’t need to know. I don’t want to know!”
   “But I’ve known you for fifteen years!”
   “Forget all that! The less I know, the less I can betray. You know that!”
   “Yeah Shean… Yeah, I do. You know—”
   “Is this guy in your current cell?”
   “Umm…”
   I sighed. “Darrvid… Okay, you trust this person. Granted. But just because they’re a member of your current cell, don’t mean they should or need to be in this new rebellion. You got that? If you trust them, if they’re right, then sure. Just… think about it.”
   He licked his lips. “Yeah, you’re right. As usual. You always were the smart one.”
   “Oh, come on! Don’t start givin’ me a swelled head. It was you who talked me out of my panic there. Why do you think I’m buyin’ you all this beer tonight?”
   “Hey! I was just doing my job!”
   “It still saved my tail. Thanks. Really.”
   “Yeah, I know.”
   “Darrvid, I got one suggestion, and then your cell is your cell. There’s somebody I’ve seen ’round the control room. Female. Don’t know her name. Human—”
   “Human!?”
   “Darrvid, we just had this damn conversation! D’you know who I mean?”
   He scratched behind his one ear. “Yeah, I think so.”
   “Is she a good worker? Does she schmooze with the company goons? Do you trust her to do her job?”
   “I…”
   “Don’t tell me. Just try and look at her with an open mind. If you can trust her, if you think you can, then feel her out. Take her out to dinner as an apology for the way you’ve been treatin’—”
   “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
   “Darrvid, don’t give me that. I know you’re tryin’, but I’ve seen how you act around humans. If you can, try it. If you can’t, well, it’ll come in time.”
   He swallowed the rest of his beer. “You know Shean, sometimes I feel like a stupid fool around you. An evil bastard. You’re too good for this world, you know that?”
   “I got lucky in my upbringin’, is all. You didn’t. My turn to crap out will come. Thought it’d come last week when I lost the drive.”
   “Shean, for you, I’ll… I’ll try. No promises, mind!”
   “No problem. Only do it if you can trust her. Try is all I ask.”
   “Shean…” he looked serious. “There is no try. There is only do. Or do not.” Then he lost it, laughin’ like a jackal.
   Damn old space opera vids! I couldn’t remember how many times we watched that corny old series. I just shook my head. “Do what you can, friend.”

   Ignorin’ the hostile stares of the humans I pushed past, I got off the bus onto the dirt road. The doors hissed shut behind me, pushin’ me off my hooves and I caught myself before my muzzle hit the gravel road as the bus roared off, and got back up. Still wasn’t used to the full gravity there on Earth. All around me were the scents of dust, water vapour exhaust, oil and grease, and people. So very, very many people… Mixed in with that were the scents of dry grass, sun-beaten ground, green leaves and ripenin’ corn.
   Yeah, I was back on the homeworld. My ship was fixed; I’d flown her to High York with no problems. Now I was takin’ some leave time to run some errands, both for myself and for the rebellion. Seems I had a nephew to ask up to New Ceres. Around my neck was a horse-head pendant, inside o’ which was a tiny vial of cyanide. Person I got it from asked if it was in case I got screwed again in a no-win situation and wanted a quick death. He’d heard of my near crash into New Ceres. Hatin’ lyin’, I’d just nodded.
   Leanin’ down, I checked the rubber shoes over my hooves, then shrugged myself into the backpack properly, rather than just lettin’ it hang over my shoulders. Carryin’ it that way was fine in a bus, but not for runnin’. The bus let me off about five miles from the stables I’d been raised at, and though I coulda rented a bicycle, hooves and pedals never did go together. Like on my other visits, I planned to just run. I started slow, joggin’ down the side of the gravel road, and then sped up a bit into a steady ground-eatin’ pace. It was odd: Horses were great sprinters, but lousy for endurance. Humans couldn’t sprint worth a damn, but Jesus, they was good at long distances. The gengineers who’d dreamed up my race’s DNA seemed to have tried for the best of both. I wasn’t complainin’. It allowed me to obey my instincts and just run.
   My body settled down to what it was bred for. Hooves poundin’ on the gravel, the rubber shoe surroundin’ them providin’ a bit of a cushion and keepin’ pebbles and stones from bein’ caught. It was relaxin’. Didn’t think, didn’t worry, just ran. My breath gasped in and out, the slight oiliness of Earth rushin’ in and out through my nostrils. Too soon I reached the driveway to my first home, and turned down it. The thuddin’ of my hooves softened as I was on grass and dirt rather than stone, runnin’ between old wire fences with the rows of gene-cut corn wavin’ in the slight hot breeze. The ground was cold and dark, deep below were pipes that let water seep into the soil as the summers had been hot and dusty ’long as anybody could remember. In the old days there’d been regular rain to keep the dust down, but not no more.
   On my left, the fence gave way to sun-dried wood, the scent of aged pine rich in my nostrils as I gulped down hot air. The grass there was long, and some colts saw me and bounded down to race me, their arms pumpin’ at their sides, tails held high, as their hooves pounded into the soft soil. I’d never trained for racin’–my mind wandered too much for that kind of life to keep me happy—but these were young ones, too young and gangly-limbed to keep up. There were a few professional racers on the farm, they’d’a left me in the dust.
   Most of the colts and foals helped around where they could, or just relaxed. I’d been told when I left that the place was largely kept up by government subsidy, to allow the small variant of the anthro-horses to breed. Wasn’t much demand for them, and we, as a species, had never been much for brains. There were a few of us that were exceptions, nobody knew why. I’d done some tests when I was young; my IQ supposedly tested out somethin’ over 200. Never believed it, though.
   Slowin’ down, I let the best of ’em just beat me to the gate, and there I stopped, my breath movin’ slow and easy. It didn’t take long for ’em to get the gate open and come boundin’ out and around me. I tried to visit once a year, for friendship’s sake, and I always brought gifts. They knew that, even those who had yet to meet me, and I was slowly buried in hot sweaty bodies afore I shushed ’em away and started diggin’ the gifts out of my pack. I never brought them anythin’ major, just little toys or puzzles. By the time I had ’em all sorted out, been introduced to those I’d never met, there was time for my favourite to find me.
   “Uncle Shean! Uncle Shean!”
   I had just enough time to turn around before thirty kilos of chestnut energy leapt onto me and hugged, sendin’ us both tumblin’ to the grass. The others just snorted and laughed and grinned.
   “Uncle Shean! You’re home again!”
   “You got me there, Cæsar!”
   “They accepted me! They did! They finally did!”
   I managed to push him off me enough to sit up, bendin’ my knees and ankles into a comfortable sittin’ position. “Did they? Did they really? Congratulations!” I hugged him and snuggled him against me as he rested his fuzzy chin on my shoulder.
   “They sure did! They’re goin’ make me into a Brain!”
   Pushin’ him away from me, I just stared, eyes blinkin’, ears flickin’ back and forth.
   “Uncle, you all right?”
   I swallowed. This was Cæsar, my favourite nephew. Grabbin’ him, I hugged him against me so tight I could feel his heart pumpin’ in his chest.
   “Ow! What’s that for, Uncle?” He squirmed in my grasp.
   “Oh, God! I don’t want to lose you!”
   “But you’re not going to!”
   “I thought you said you wanted to be an astronaut, like me?”
   “Sure—and I will be!”
   Shovin’ him away, I held him at arm’s length by his shoulders and looked into his muzzle. “What the hell you talkin’ about?”
   Around me the others chanted: “Uncle said a bad word! Mom’s gonna wash your muzzle out with soap!”
   I ignored ’em and pressed on: “Cæsar, you know as well as I do that Brains are too big to fly space ships!”
   His voice lowered to a conspirational whisper. “They are now, Uncle. But in the interview, they told me that was going to change. They want me! I’m smart, my brain is—they said something ’bout a diff’rent bi-o-chem-i-cal balance. I’m not supposed to tell anybody, but I couldn’t keep it from you, Uncle Shean!”
   “How the hell did they force you!? You’re not even of age yet!”
   He slapped my hands away and I let them fall to my side. “Uncle, I’ll be sixteen come this October. And Mr. Crimshaw co-signed the papers with me. It’s what I want to do.”
   “But, we were goin’ to explore the moon together…”
   “I’ve been all over the moon by remote presence! I want to fly, like you fly!”
   “But… as a Brain!?”
   He stood up. “It’s the wave of the future Uncle. You can join me! We can cruise the asteroids together! Explore the stars! We can live all those stories you told me!”
   “I’d be a Brain, though!”
   He just glared at me, breath pulsin’ angrily through his nostrils, ears pulled tight against his skull. “You had to give up your tail—”
   “But you’ll give up everythin’!”
   “I’ll still feel them! Go your old—old fashioned way! I’ll still be there when you’re dead! Dead!” I could see tears pourin’ from his eyes even as he struggled to keep them hidden. Then he turned, and in a hail of hooves an’ tail, he ran off, leavin’ only scents of youth and dreams and sweat and sadness behind.
   I just sat there watchin’ him go.
   Fuck.

   I just watched Cæsar disappear in the dust. The other foals soon left, too; I think they knew I needed to be alone. Eventually I stood up, feelin’ every year of my age. Cæsar—a Brain!? It couldn’t be! I didn’t believe it. And yet, he’d been so certain. Was he really that old? I thought back to his foalin’, to my leavin’ for advanced school, flight trainin’… Countin’ the years confirmed he’d be sixteen in just a few months.
   But he seemed so young!
   Turnin’, I walked towards the barn. The big barn, not the small one. There was someone I needed to see—needed to see bad. The other foals were stayin’ away, I guess they could tell somethin’ was wrong. It didn’t take me long, my hooves thumpin’ in the long dry grass that crinkled beneath them. Fire was a danger, but with the dampness of the ground they always tended to smolder out before doin’ much. The big barn was just as I remembered; dry, dusty, smellin’ of straw and horse. Sunlight danced in the dust and my hooves rang on the old wooden planks. I thumped my way through to the field behind and Bucephalus was there to greet me.
   I’d been there when he’d been foaled, been the first thing he saw. We’d always had a practice of raisin’ the new horse foals with their mothers and one of us anthros. Kept us from forgettin’ our roots. For those of us who were goin’ to be jockeys, most often that horse would be the one we rode; for those of us who stayed to help, most often that horse was the one we harnessed and worked with. For me, I got the black runt of the litter. Everybody hereabouts knew I wasn’t long for the farm—it couldn’t hold my mind—but for that birth, late in the season, I was the only one free when old Sunshine Maid dropped her foal.
   Openin’ the gate, I let him clomp in, his unshod hooves thunkin’ on the wood as he pressed his huge muzzle against my shoulder and snuffled in my mane. His hot breath caressed my neck and blew through the long hairs along my spine. Wrappin’ my arms around his strong neck I pressed my muzzle into his mane and let his scent fill my bein’. “God, Bucephalus, I need you. God, but I need you!”
   He nickered in my ear and nibbled gently at my neck, his strong teeth not even breakin’ my skin.
   I let my tears fall into his mane as he sniffed at me and nickered gently. He probably just wanted attention, but I’d always thought there was somethin’ more. He’d have been sold off long ago—he was as much a misfit around here as I’d been; never had taken to a plow—but I sent back enough money to have him stabled here and cared for. My family wasn’t rich, so if I couldn’t support him, he’d have been sold. Everybody had to carry their own weight. The subsidies only kept the farm goin’, and the corn growin’.
   Leanin’ against him, I cried.
   I’d had such hopes for Cæsar! Bringin’ him to New Ceres, showin’ him around, gettin’ him settled, raisin’ him as we journeyed to the stars together. But now… Now I couldn’t tell him a fuckin’ thing. Not a word. I couldn’t even talk to him any more, no tellin’ what I might mention that would set the Brains on to me.
   Raisin’ my muzzle I looked around. Tack was where it’d always been, and yet that would take time. I couldn’t stay here. Not now, not right that second. I clucked at him and crouched, and then leapt high and clambered onto his wide back. Even though he was a runt amongst horses, he was a monster to me. I’d named him after Alexander the Great’s mount, for he was as black as Alex’s horse was said to be. No white markin’s, though, and no fear of his shadow.
   His big head looked back at me. I could see a few white hairs below his lips, he was growin’ old. Old like me. Outdated, like all of us spacers. With long-remembered movements of my knees, I gently guided him back out into the field. He didn’t need encouragin’, he wanted this as much as I needed it. It didn’t take long for him to work his way into a ground-swallowin’, bone-shakin’ gallop. Well, bone-shakin’ for anybody but me. Somehow we’d both learned how to survive his rough movement. I leaned into him, the wind of our passage whistlin’ through our tangled manes. I could smell him, smell his scent as he ran, could feel his lungs swallowin’ air and shovin’ it back out as the ground blurred below us. We approached the gate leadin’ to one of the windin’ paths along the creek. He slowed, crouched down on his hindquarters, and leapt. For a second we flew, muscles still, wind howlin’, and then we slammed to the dry ground on the far side and back into the gallop.
   Soon we were under the dry trees. There, Bucephalus slowed to a steady canter, his hooves thumpin’ on the packed ground as the path wound down towards the creek and our favourite place.
   I just hung on, enjoyin’ the moment… runnin’ away from Cæsar, the rebellion, the whole chaotic mess of what used to be an ordered life.

   I got back early in the evenin’, the sun was a huge red circle through the clouds and haze. First thing, it had been drilled into me from birth, was to care for your horse. I’d let Bucephalus drink from the creek—we filtered it locally—but now I led him to his stall, rubbed him down, brushed him, checked his hooves for problems, fed him some grain and a candy treat, and nuzzled his neck for a minute as he nuzzled mine.
   Closin’ the stall behind me, I trotted down the packed dirt path and into the smaller barn, where us anthros lived. Where I’d lived in my youth, and still had a bed. Had to pay rent, but like I said, there ain't no free lunch, not in this world, or any other.
   Dinner was mostly over, but old Aunt Neeola was there, her fur almost entirely gray, as was her mane and tail. She looked at me over her glasses, not that she needed them. I’d paid for and gotten her surgical correction years ago—I think she just liked the look. “So, Shean, back again? How long this time? A day? Two?” She clopped over and spooned grain porridge out of a bowl; I could see mushrooms and chunks of meat in it. Then she pulled a couple cobs of corn, cold and fresh, out of a basket on the table and put them on the plate beside the stew.
   “Stew again? Come on, it’s stew every time! Stew when I come—”
   “Shean Eeysmarn! You cut the chatter and sit down and eat and listen. And don’t talk back ’til I’m done.”
   I sat down on the chair, not needin’ the tail hole, and noisily scraped it up against the table, my rubber-coated hooves squeakin’ on the floor. It was nice comin’ home where things were in the proper scale.
   “You should take your galoshes off afore you come in here.”
   Swallowin’ the rich porridge, hot and spicy, I tried answerin’. “I’m sorry, Aunt—”
   “I thought I told you to keep your trap shut and eat!”
   “Sor—”
   “Shhhh!”
   I nodded and resumed eatin’, my ears turned to focus on her voice.
   “Now, what the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up with this time? I come here expectin’ a nice quiet dinner, and all I hear are the foals yammerin’ ’bout you, and Cæsar in his corner all quiet and solemn and red-eyed. You know he idolizes you, don’t you?”
   “I…” I just nodded.
   “And no sign of you at all! Little Anaole, she saw you take that big brute of Bucephalus out, Lord knows where. So I wait, and you’s come back all hot and sweaty, with a stench about you so bad your Aunt can barely be in the same room as you!”
   Lowerin’ my ears, I nodded.
   “So, Nephew: What’s going on between you and my grand-nephew?”
   I thought about shruggin’, thought better of it, and just kept eatin’, one ear half lowered.
   “You can talk now.”
   I swallowed my mouthful and blinked tears as I hit a jalepeno.
   “What’re they feedin’ you up there? You’re reactin’ like a tourist!”
   Swallowin’ the last bit, I gasped, and refused to reach for the water. “Sorry, Aunt, it—umm—caught me by surprise.”
   I watched her roll her eyes from where she stood almost behind me. “Shean, I’m a mite older than you, and a damn sight wiser. Next time you try and pull a lie on me, it better be a damn good one! Now, answer my question.”
   I knew from long experience that there was no escape. I sighed, long and quiet, and then turned my neck so that I could see her clearly out of one eye. “You know, I came to say good-bye, and to try and bring Cæsar up into orbit. Give him what he always wanted, what he deserved. Should have been the happiest day of his life.”
   “What do you mean, say good-bye?”
   Damn—that one slipped out. I forced down a couple lies, they’d never work on her. Seems I’d grown so used to lyin’ that it was my default response. Another bit of innocence lost. “Aunt Neeola, I can’t tell you.”
   “What do you mean, ‘you can’t tell me’?”
   “I can’t. It’s simple as that. And you can’t tell anybody that I won’t be comin’ back. I shouldn’t have let that one slip out, but I did, and there’s no puttin’ it back. Best I can do is minimize the damage.”
   “You some kind of criminal on the run? If you bring the damn army here, I’ll—”
   With a loud screech I pushed the chair back and stood up, my muzzle just a bit below hers. I lowered my voice. “Oh, God, Aunt Neeola, I can’t tell you. Simple as that. If I tell you, I’m riskin’ the lives and freedom of thousands.”
   “You don’t trust me!?” Her eyes blazed with a fire I recognized. This was her house. Though the Morgans owned it and she just rented, here she was judge, jury, and executioner.
   I grabbed the water and threw it down my suddenly parched throat. “Aunt, we private here? Utterly private? No foals snoopin’?”
   She cocked her head and looked at me, ears stiff and proud. I watched her lookin’ at me, and then had to focus away, countin’ the tight braids that made up her mane. “You’re serious, ain’t you?”
   I nodded.
   “Well, then. You just wait right there! And finish off your dinner, I’ll be back in a minute.”
   I sat down, pickin’ up one of the cobs and chewin’ the sweet corn off it. My ears followed her clompin’ hoofsteps as she went to one of the doors that led further into the stable and yanked it open with a bang. There were giggles, and the clatter of tiny hooves, “This is private! I catch you snoopin’, I’ll cane you!”
   She alw