“Dieter Kuhn.” Lucie spoke the name without hesitation and with great assurance: so much so that Monique wondered if Pierre and his friends-human and otherwise-had microphones in her flat, too. Lucie went on, “Perhaps that can be arranged. I do not say it surely can be, but perhaps. It depends on whether we can find a way that does not point straight back at ourselves.”

“If you can do it, that would be wonderful,” Monique said. “If not, I will try to think of something else.”

“Some people need killing,” Lucie said matter-of-factly. Monique found herself nodding before she wondered what she was doing associating with people who said things like that. She’d had no choice, but that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her priest-not that she’d been to confession in a good long time. And besides, she was the one who wanted the German dead.

But she might not be the only one who wanted him dead. “If you could arrange for the Lizards to do the job…”

“It could be,” Lucie said. “They have not always the stomach for killing, but some of them do, without a doubt. They differ less, one from another, than people do, I think, but they are not all the same, either. I may know a male or two who would do better business without this nosy Nazi poking into their affairs.”

Just then, a Lizard came by on the other side of the street. Lucie shut up with a snap. Monique wondered if he was one of the males Pierre’s companion had in mind. Before she could ask, she stared at something else: the Lizard was walking a long-necked, four-legged, scaly creature on a leash, for all the world as if it were a poodle or a greyhound. Pointing toward it, she said, “For heaven’s sake, what is that thing?”

“It has a name. I’ve heard it, but I forget what it is,” Lucie answered. “The males of the conquest fleet were here to tend to business. The colonization fleet has also brought farm animals and pets like that one.”

“Ugly little thing, isn’t it?” Monique said.

“Which, the Lizard or the pet?” Lucie asked, and startled a laugh out of Monique. Her brother’s lady friend went on, “I do business with them, but that doesn’t mean I have to love them. Au contraire.” Monique nodded, and then looked thoughtfully at Lucie. That was the first confidence, no matter how small, she could remember getting from her. Was Lucie starting to trust her at last? And if Lucie was, what did that say about Monique? That she was the kind of person a drug smuggler’s woman would trust? She’d hoped she might think of herself as something better than that.

Like what? she jeered. A Nazi’s whore? She reached out and set a hand on Lucie’s arm. All at once, being her confidante didn’t look so bad.

With a hiss of glee, Nesseref strode into the new shop that had opened in the Race’s new town outside of Jezow. “Pets!” she exclaimed. “Now this truly makes me think I am back on Home!”

“I am pleased I am finally able to open,” replied the female in charge of the place. “The animals, of course, were almost all brought here as frozen fertilized ova. At last, we have been able to begin thawing them and letting them come to maturity.”

“One small step after another, we do advance on this world,” the shuttlecraft pilot said. “When I talk with males from the conquest fleet, they often seem amazed at how far we have come.”

“When I talk to males from the conquest fleet, I am amazed at how little those ragamuffins have done,” the other female declared. “They should have delivered all of Tosev 3 to us, not just patches of the planet. And this place!” Her eye turrets waggled in exasperation. “It is so chilly and wet, I might as well be back in cold sleep.”

“When I was first revived, I was furious to discover the conquest incomplete, too,” Nesseref said. “As I have come to see more of the Big Uglies and the things they can do, I have more sympathy for the conquest fleet.”

“I do not care to see more of the Big Uglies,” the female said, and used an emphatic cough. “I have already seen more than I like. Not only are they barbarians, they are dangerous barbarians. The only worthwhile thing this planet produces has been made illegal, and where is the justice in that?”

“Ginger, do you mean?” Nesseref asked, and the other female made the affirmative hand gesture. Nesseref said, “The stuff has been made illegal for good reasons. It tears up our society as nothing else has ever done.”

“When I taste it… uh, that is, when I did taste it”-the female in the shop was being cagey, not knowing exactly who Nesseref was-“I did not care about the society of the Race. All I care, uh, cared about was how good I felt.”

“Yes, I understand as much.” Nesseref decided to let it go. Pretty plainly, the female in the shop was still tasting, laws or no laws. As plainly, nothing Nesseref said would make her change her mind. Nesseref hadn’t come into the shop to argue about ginger, anyhow. She said, “I want to see your tsiongyu.”

“Most males and females are more interested in my befflem,” the other female replied. She was going to score points off Nesseref any way she could, for Nesseref had tried to score points off ginger.

Patiently, the shuttlecraft pilot answered, “Befflem need care every day. My work can take me away from here for days at a time. Tsiongyu are better at fending for themselves when their owner is away.”

The pet-shop keeper sighed. “I wish my work took me away from this frigid place for days at a time. I would love to go somewhere, anywhere, with decent weather.” She seemed to remember she needed to do business. “Come with me. You will have to walk past the befflem, I am afraid. I have them in front, because they are in greater demand.”

Befflem turned their eye turrets toward Nesseref as she went by. They wanted to be bought; every line of their small, sinuous bodies proclaimed how much they wanted to be bought. They opened their mouths and squeaked endearingly. Nesseref was tempted to change her mind. No doubt about it: befflem were more friendly, more responsive, than tsiongyu.

But a beffel without companionship from the Race would not be happy, and was liable to turn destructive. Nesseref did not want to come back to her apartment and find it torn to pieces by an animal with nothing better to do.

“Here are the tsiongyu,” the other female said, as if she didn’t expect Nesseref to recognize them without help.

Where the befflem were eager to make friends with any female or male who came near, the larger tsiongyu sat aloof in their cages. Each one was as proudly drawn up as if it were the Emperor. Nesseref pointed to one with striking red-brown stripes. “May I see that male, please?”

“It shall be done,” the proprietor answered, and opened the cage. When she reached for it, the tsiongi hissed in warning, as its kind had a way of doing. Had it tried to bite and scratch, Nesseref would have asked to see another. Even after so many millennia of domestication, about one tsiongi in four remained convinced it was by rights a wild animal.

After hissing, though, this one allowed the female to pick it up and take it out of its cage. When she set it on the floor, it stood there on all fours lashing its tail, as if to show how irate it was at being handled, but did not streak for the door, as many of its kind might have. Here and there back on Home, feral tsiongyu, no less than befflem, made pests of themselves.

Nesseref extended a hand toward the animal. It hissed once more, not so loudly as it had before, but again did not try to bite. Instead, it extended its tongue in the direction of the hand. Nesseref waited, knowing its scent receptors were telling it what to think of her.

“It seems to accept you,” the female from the shop said. By her tone, she might have wished the tsiongi had taken a bite out of Nesseref.

“So it does,” Nesseref said. “I will buy it, and I will need supplies for its care. At least it will not have parasites here, which will make things easier.”