Virdon only knew that the second day of his ordeal had begun because the old chimpanzee woman told him so when she brought him some food.

He refused to eat; his stomach was a hard knot unable to accept anything, even water. The old chimp regarded him for a moment, then left the room. She came back a short while later with a bowl of water and some rags, and began to clean him up. The cold made him flinch at first, but then it was oddly soothing.

After the first woman had finished, the gorillas had tied him to the bedframe and carried her away; none of the women had been allowed to walk away, so as not to lose any of his precious seed. Virdon felt a bout of nausea crawling up his throat at the memory. The whole room stank, of sweat and the women's arousal... and his own. His own failure, again and again.

"Why are you making this so hard for yourself?" the old chimp said softly, and dipped the rag into the water again. "It's a natural thing, and the Mothers even made it enjoyable for you. I know we have to tie the janes to the rack sometimes, when they don't like the jon we selected for them, but I can't remember that one of the jons ever refused to mate. They're competing to get selected!"

Virdon didn't bother to reply. How could this old ape even begin to understand the degradation they inflicted on the humans they forced to mate? How could she understand how abominable the whole concept was? To her, he was an animal - to her, it wasn't different from breeding horses.

Was it different from breeding horses?

It is, it is, I'm not an animal, I'm not-

The memory of his own reaction overwhelmed him. He hadn't wanted to react; he had desperately tried to distract himself from what the women had been doing to him, to stay in control... to control at least this, after everything else had been taken out of his hands.

But his body had betrayed him, had reacted to the touches with the blind enthusiasm of an animal, had flooded his brain with endorphins, had made him arch and crest and crash, spend himself again and again, and left him gasping, broken, hating his dumb flesh with a wild despair that he hadn't thought being capable of.

The rational part of his brain assured him that it wasn't his fault, no weakness of character, that it was a simple matter of stimulus and response, and that the important thing was that he hadn't consented to any of it, not even at the height of ecstasy; but it was a fading voice in a howling storm of shame and rage. Virdon couldn't remember when it had been the last time he cried; maybe when he had held his newborn son in his arms. But tonight, his eyes had watered, ignoring his attempts at self-control just as callously as the rest of his body had.

"Please... untie me..." he finally rasped. His mouth and tongue were dry and sticky - he must've sweat out every drop of water in his body.

The chimp shook her head. "You know I can't do that. You're a wildling, you'd try to attack me and run. You wouldn't get far, and I'd get a warning from Ramor." She patted his cheek. "No need to go through all this trouble for nothing. We'd end up here again, just as we're now. - Come," she added, and twisted sideways to reach for something. "At least drink a bit of water. You almost lost your voice." She held a mug to his mouth and poured a bit of water over his lips, and Virdon couldn't help but gulp it down. He was so thirsty. Thirsty, and tired, and raw. He had rubbed the skin away on his wrists and ankles as he had struggled against the restraints, and he tried to focus on that burning pain now, to distract himself from the other pains and aches of his body.

The door opened, and one of the gorillas stuck his head in. "You ready? I have the next batch here."

"He hasn't eaten," the chimp said.

"He can eat later," the gorilla growled, and opened the door a bit wider to usher in the next woman.

Virdon squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see her - didn't want to know if she had fair hair and blue eyes, a perfect match to his own, making a baby of the same color, one that would earn Ramor a fat pouch of sembles in two years' time. He drew a painful breath and turned his head to the wall, trying to think of something vivid enough to take his mind out of this room. His whole body felt cold, and numb, except for a prickling sensation brushing over him in waves, like electric current.

The woman's hands were gliding down his neck, his chest, his stomach, her warm breath following the path of her hands. Virdon frantically conjured up his last mission before the Icarus - placing yet another array of Hermes transmission satellites in the orbit of, of... Mars! The robotic arm of the Iris had malfunctioned, and he had gone out in an EVA...

... the girl's mouth was on his groin now, and Virdon's hands clenched into fists, straining against the ropes that kept his arms stretched out above his head...

... he was floating outside the ship now, his EVA gone, and his breath left him in a sudden rush as the icy silence grabbed his body, the unimaginable coldness of the void...

"He's not getting hard, Tilsa!" The girl's wet heat retreated. Virdon didn't move a muscle, not quite trusting his luck.

Maybe... maybe Ramor would kick him out now... since he was unable to perform... He opened his eyes to gauge the apes' reaction.

"Perhaps he needs to rest a bit more," the chimp said thoughtfully. "How often did he have to mate last night?"

"One per atseht , but he had to mount them more than once," the gorilla rumbled from the door. "Or... the other way round," he added after a pause.

Tilsa shook her head. "I can understand that Ramor wants to get his money's worth, but there's such a thing as overstraining."

"You better get him up and working again," the gorilla said, unimpressed. "Ramor can get unpleasant if you screw up his schedule."

"What should I do, Tilsa?" The girl sounded worried now.

Virdon could hear Tilsa's joints creak as the chimp got slowly to her feet. "Suck harder," she said dryly. "Or don't suck so hard. Try different things. I'll talk to Ramor about this." She left together with the gorilla, and the girl bent over his crotch again with an aggravated sigh.

Out of nowhere, Burke's voice floated up in Virdon's memory, You can get almost any machine working again if you know where to kick it. Hard, and he fought down a hysterical giggle. It came out as a strangled groan instead, and the girl slightly slapped his thigh in response. Virdon suspected that she'd have scolded him, too, if she hadn't had her mouth full at the moment.

I'm not functional anymore, no matter what switch you're trying to toggle... He'd never have thought that he'd feel so elated, so triumphant in such a situation.

The woman gave up after a while, and just sat down at the foot of the bed, knees drawn to her chest, to stare at the door. Virdon supposed he should feel sorry for her - it was perfectly possible that Ramor would hold her responsible for his lack of arousal - but he was too wrung out, and too relieved to have escaped this ordeal, to empathize with her.

She did have fair hair. But she wasn't looking at him right now, so he couldn't see the color of her eyes.

The door opened again, and Tilsa returned with a tray in her hands.

"Ramor understands that the jon needs rest," she said, "but since we're under a tight schedule, he can't allow any delays. I wouldn't have agreed to this, if it was one of our own, one we use continuously," she added, and put down the tray beside the bed.

Virdon felt his heart beginning to race in his chest. What kind of devilment had they thought of now? He lifted his head to peer at the tray.

A short rope. A syringe with an oily liquid in it.

Virdon felt cold sweat break out all over his body. They're going to drug me with Blaze.

They had learned of the drug during their stay in the racing stronghold of Sapan, where the drug had been used by unscrupulous kennel owners to drug their racers. But the main clientele were breeders - "helping" their livestock when they were unable to perform.

Tilsa tied the tourniquet around his arm and inspected the syringe. "But since it's only for a few days, I think it's responsible. He won't suffer any damage from it." She felt for a vein and slid the needle into his arm.

The first sensation was one of heat, as if she was pouring brandy into his blood. The heat spread rapidly, turning into a pleasant, tingling warmth. His skin felt flushed, and sweaty, and suddenly, all his senses sharpened, as if he had woken up from a fuzzy dream.

"Now try again."

Tilsa's voice was loud, just like his own rapid breathing. Everything was loud, the rustling of Tilsa's robe, the creaking of the gorilla's leather vest, the soft swish as the woman flipped her hair over her shoulder, and Virdon could smell her perfume all of a sudden, something sweet and flowery, but all those sounds and smells were drowned out by the intense heat and tension coursing through his own body now. He felt restless, struggling against his restraints again, but without any thought of escape this time.

All his horror and revulsion were melting away, replaced by nothing but painful arousal clamoring for relief. It was burning through his limbs, making him gasp and groan and beg, wiping out all conscious thought. Somewhere far away from him, someone removed his fetters. He rolled around and got halfway to his knees, reaching for the sweet scent, the softness...

Woman, woman, woman...

And then no thoughts at all.

For once, Peet had made a sensible suggestion, Galen thought absently as he hurried through the dark streets of Etissa - in these parts, it was just a basic necessity to be armed to the teeth whenever one stepped outside one's door. It was a miracle that they had gone by without any weapons for so long at all... and if Peet hadn't stolen Betsy after Alan had been injured, they'd never have reached this Mothers-forsaken place at all.

Peet. Smart-mouthed, recalcitrant, and all around insufferable. Galen hoped that wherever he was now, he'd have the good sense to curb his natural insubordination and lay low until they had found him.

Time was of the essence - Peet wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it, which it probably did right now. That was the reason why Galen was now headed to the Etissan Herold after dark , scurrying from one fog-filled, swirling pool of yellow lamplight to the next, fingers clenched around the hilt of the hand-gun under his robe. He only let go of it after he had crossed the threshold of the newspaper, relaxing his shoulders that he had hunched up without realizing it.

He was late; most of the desks were already deserted, and the only sounds - an oddly monotonous, mechanical stomping - came from some building across the yard, muffled by the shutters that someone was closing over the windows from outside. Galen stood in the aisle between the rows of desks, rubbing his numb hands, and wondered if he should try his luck the following morning instead. But Zana had been so devastated, so desperate to do something, immediately, that he didn't have the heart to return to the inn empty-handed.

As if on cue, an elderly Chimpanzee, who looked as if his skin was too large for his body, poked his head through the door at the opposite end of the room. "We're already closed for the day," he said. "Whatever scandalous story you have to tell will have to wait until tomorrow's evening paper."

"Ah, ah, no," Galen stuttered. "I only wanted to place an ad... my human has gone missing. There'll be a reward," he added reluctantly; Zana had insisted on that, arguing that the people in this town needed an incentive to help them.

"Ah. Well," the Chimp muttered, "maybe I can still fit it in, if it's not too big. The printers just started." He waved Galen closer. "Pesky beasts, always running off when you're not looking. Come in, before my tea gets cold." He vanished into his office again without waiting for him.

My human hasn't run off - he was abducted, Galen wanted to say, but the words died on his lips as he stepped across the threshold.

This was apparently the chief editor's office, judging by the luxurious interior - maybe this wrinkly Chimp was even the owner of the newspaper. A broad leather armchair was pushed back behind a huge desk made from a reddish wood that Galen had never seen before. The light of several brass lamps was softened to a green tint by glass lampshades; and their light source weren't candles, but gas burners, something Galen hadn't come across since his days in the City. Not even Olman had used them. A big brass sign on the desk read "Apitis Latis." A human stood at attention behind the desk, staring straight ahead with an empty expression.

And he was muzzled.

Latis rounded his desk and sat down, almost vanishing in his huge armchair. He waved impatiently at the human, and the slave hurried to get another cup for Galen. "So, when did your human run away? And I need a description. Male, female, old, young, dark, light, any unusual features?"

Galen stared at the human, who was now pouring him tea. The creature's eyes were fixed on his cup, completely focused on its task. The muzzle was strapped tight - the poor beast had to clench its teeth all the time. It was... unusual. Humans were only muzzled when they had proven to be dangerous. But this one seemed to be perfectly housebroken. One wouldn't use a dangerous human to serve tea...

Latis harrumphed. "Your human's description?"

"Ah, ah... yes. Yes. I'm sorry, I was..." Galen gestured at the human, who had taken up position behind his master's desk again. "Is he dangerous?"

Latis frowned. "What? Him? No. Do you think I'd tolerate dangerous humans in my office?"

"But he's muzzled," Galen pointed out.

Latis waved his hand. "I don't need them yapping all day, hurts my ears. Animals shouldn't speak, it's not right. I told our resident breeder he should start making mute humans - they'd make fantastic prices. I'd buy them in a heartbeat." He wheezed a laugh, and Galen smiled weakly.

"So you, uh, muzzle all your humans?" Galen just couldn't believe it. He remembered that he had suggested to Zana that Peet might need a muzzle and a leash after they had rescued him from Urko, because Peet had been so... so erratic back then. But he hadn't had a mental picture of what that would've looked like on the human.

Now he had that picture, right before his eyes, and he found he didn't like it very much.

"All of them, all the time," Latis said curtly. "Except for feeding. It's a blessing for the ears. You know, I heard that some people call humans 'frogs' because they croak all day. Not my humans - I drained the swamp."

Yes, I'm sure you only 'heard' that, Galen thought wryly, and sipped at his tea. About 'some people'. You wouldn't call a human that, oh no, you're much too cultured to use slurs.

Not too cultured for muzzling his humans, though.

"I always say a human needs three things," Latis continued, warming to the subject. "A muzzle, a leash, and the crop. Otherwise, they immediately try to take over your household. Vicious beasts, but so useful."

They had been in Kira's laboratory, Galen remembered - Zana and him, when he had suggested they muzzle Peet.

And put him on a leash.

Galen rubbed his hands over his knees and consciously averted his gaze from the human. "So, uh... yes. My human. He didn't come home the previous day, after I had sent him to the market for some errands..."

"And it promptly ran away," Latis growled. "Pains me to say it, but you can't send a human anywhere without supervision - and never give them money, or you won't see either ever again."

Ann had sent Mouna to the market almost every day. She had even sent her to the bank, when she needed money for some bigger purchase. And nobody had ever muzzled Mouna, or any of his father's other humans.

Well, none of them had ever drawn a knife against him - even if Peet hadn't recognized him in that moment.

But then none of his father's humans had ever suffered in Urko's dungeon. And Peet had gotten better with time... a bit... although his wit had become more caustic, and his anger more... more...

"Ah, he wore a blue shirt," Galen forced himself to focus on the actual purpose of his visit, "and a tan vest..." He quickly described Peet's appearance, suddenly eager to escape this room.

Latis scribbled down his description, stated the prize, and gave him a receipt for his sembles with the assurance that his ad would indeed already appear in the morning edition of the Etissan Herold. "And if your human doesn't turn up, we have a very reputable breeder here in Etissa, I can give you his card..." He started digging in one of his drawers.

"That's not necessary," Galen said, rising. "I'm sure my human will return to me. He is..." His eyes were drawn to the human in the corner again, mute and unmoving.

No, Peet isn't fond of me. He has no reason to be.

"He's very fond of my wife," Galen said with a rueful smile. "He wouldn't abandon her. I'll see myself out. Thank you for your time. Talking to you was... enlightening."

Galen took a deep breath when he stepped outside the front door of the newspaper. For the first time since they had entered Etissa, he welcomed the darkness of its streets. It made him feel as if he could vanish in its shadows, and reach the inn undetected, though he didn't know whose eyes he was trying to escape.

Maybe his own.