Rees stared, baffled, and Jame seemed to sober a little. Then surprise, even wonder, spread across the barman's face. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"Jamie, I haven't the faintest idea. Nobody told us exiles a damn thing—"

jame half-laughed, scratching his head. Then he glanced around the sky, picking out a few of the brighter stars, clearly judging the plate's position. "Well, you'll find out soon enough. We're nearly there. Take a look, Rees. Below us, to my right somewhere—"

Rees turned onto Ms belly and thrust his face below the plate. At first he could see nothing in the direction Jame had indicated — then, squinting, he made out a small, dark speck of matter.

The hours wore on. Jame carefully adjusted the thrust from the jets. The speck grew to a ball the color of dried blood. At length Rees made out human figures standing on or crawling over all sides of the ball, as if glued there; judging from their size the sphere must have been perhaps thirty yards wide.

Jame joined him. With absent-minded companionship he passed Rees his bottle. "Here. Now, look, boy; what you have to remember if you want to last here more than a half-shift is that these are human beings just like you and me…"

They were nearing the surface now. The sphere-world was quite crowded with people, adults and children: they went naked, or wore ragged tunics, and were uniformly short, squat and well-muscled. One man stood under their little craft, watching their approach.

The surface of the worldlet was composed of sheets of something like dried cloth. Hair sprouted from it here and there. In one place the sheets were ripped, exposing the interior structure of the worldlet.

Rees saw the white of bone.

He took a shuddering pull at Jaine's bottle.

The man below raised his head; his eyes met Rees's, and the Boney raised Ms arms as if in welcome.

9

Jame brought the plate to a smooth landing on the crackling surface of the worldlet. Silently he set to work unlashing the batches of iron from the net.

Rees clung to the net and stared wildly around. The cramped horizon was made up of sheets of hairy, brownish material, stirring sluggishly. Again Rees saw the white of bone protruding through breaks in the surface.

He felt his bladder loosen. He closed his eyes and clamped down. Come on, Rees; you've faced greater perils than this, more immediate dangers…

But the Boneys were a myth from his childhood, sleep-time monsters to frighten recalcitrant children. Surely, in a universe which contained the cairn, machined interior of the Bridge, there was no room for such ugliness?

"Welcome," a high, dry voice said. "So you've yet another guest for us, Jame?" The man Rees had seen from the air was standing over the plate now, accepting an armful of iron from Jame. A few conventional-looking food packages were stacked at the man's feet. Briskly Jame bundled them onto the plate and fixed them to the net.

The Boney was squat and barrel-chested, his

head a wrinkled, hairless globe. He was dressed in a crudely cut sheet of surface material. He grinned and Rees saw that his cavernous mouth was totally without teeth. "What's the matter, boy? Aren't you going to give old Quid a hand?"

Rees found his fingers tightening about the strands of the net. Jame stood over him with a package of iron. "Come on, lad. Take this stuff and get off the plate. You haven't any choice, you know. And if you show you're afraid it will go the worse for you."

Rees felt a whimper rising in his throat; it was as if all the revolting speculation he had ever heard about the Boneys' way of life had returned to unman him.

He clamped his lips together. Damn it, he was a Scientist Second Class. He summoned up the steady, tired gaze of Hollerbach. He would come through this. He had to.

He untwined his fingers from the netting and stood up, forcing the rational half of his mind to work. He felt heavy, sluggish; the gravity was perhaps one and a half gee. So the mass of the little planet must have been — what? Thirty tons?

He took the iron and, without hesitation, stepped off the plate and onto the surface. His feet sank a few inches into the stuff. It was soft, like a coarse cloth, and covered with hair strands which scratched his ankles; and, oh, god, it was warm, like the hide of some huge animal—

Or human.

Now, to his horror, his bladder released; dampness slid down his legs.

Quid opened his toothless mouth and roared with laughter.

Jame, from the security of the plate, said: "There's no shame, lad. Remember that.»

The strange trade was over, and Jamie worked his controls. With a puff of hot steam the plate lifted, leaving four charred craters in the soft surface. Within a few seconds the plate had dwindled into a fist-sized toy in the air.

Rees dropped his eyes. His urine had formed a pool about Ms feet and was seeping into the surface.

Quid stepped toward him, his footsteps crunching. "You're a Boney now, lad! Welcome to the arsehole of the Nebula." He gestured to the puddle at Rees's feet. "And I wouldn't worry about that." He grinned and licked his lips. "You'll be glad of it when you're a bit thirstier…"

Foul speculations ran through Rees's mind; he shuddered, but kept his gaze steady on Quid. "What do I do now?"

Again Quid laughed. "Well, that's up to you. Stand here and wait for a ride that will never come. Or follow me." He winked and, the iron under his arm, strode away across the yielding surface.

Rees stood there for a few seconds, reluctant to leave even the faint shadow of his link with the world away from this place. But he really had no option; this grotesque character was his only fixed point.

Shifting the weight of iron in his arms he stepped cautiously across the hot, uneven ground.

They walked about halfway round the worldlet's circumference. They passed crude shacks scattered in random patterns over the surface; most of the buildings were simple tents of surface material, barely enough to keep out the rain, but others were more substantial, based, Rees saw, on iron frames. Quid laughed. "Impressed, miner? We're coming up in society, aren't we? See, they all used to shun us. The Raft, the miners, everybody. Much too proud to associate with the likes of the Boneys, after the 'crime' we commit to live… But now the stars are going out. Eh, miner? Suddenly they're all struggling to survive; and suddenly they're learning the lessons we learned, all those thousands of shifts ago." He leaned closer to Rees and winked again. "It's all trade, you see. For a bit of iron, a few luxuries, we fill the miners' empty food pods. As long as they get a nicely packaged pod they don't have to think too hard about what's in it. Am I right?" And he laughed again, spraying Rees's face with spittle.

Rees shrank away, unable to speak.

A few children emerged from the huts to stare at Rees, their faces dull, their naked bodies squat and filthy. The adults barely registered his passing; they sat in tight circles in their huts, chanting a low, haunting song. Rees could not make out words but the melody was cyclic and compelling.

Quid said, "So sorry if we seem antisocial. There's a whale in the Coreward sky, see; soon we'll be singing him close." Quid's eyes grew dreamy and he licked his lips.

Skirting a particularly shabby hut Rees's foot broke through the surface. He found himself ankle-deep in foul, stinking waste. With a cry he backed away and began rubbing his feet against a cleaner section of surface.

Quid roared with laughter.

From within the hut a voice told Mm, "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

Rees glanced up, startled by the voice's familiarity. Forgetting the filth he stepped closer to the gloom of the hut, peered inside. A man sat alone. He was short and blond, and his frame was gaunt and wrapped in the remnants of a tunic. His face was obscured by a tangle of beard—"Gord. Is it you?"