The Iron Maiden by Piers Anthony Page A

picture of an empty hand to illustrate it. To put titles on individual chips that he will recognize, such as the name of our father, mother, sister, and his girlfriend.”
    “You think you can edit feelies?”
    “I think I can learn.”
    “The mechanics are easy. It's the content that can make a female blush.”
    “So I'm female, and only twelve. I've seen plenty already.”
    “Show me your power.”
    “Sir?”
    Brinker smiled thinly. “It's a Navy term. It means to demonstrate what you can do. Show your competence. Impress me, if you can.”
    Spirit got into it with a will. She viewed hundreds of feelies, and zeroed in on those calculated to appeal most strongly to sex-hungry men. Because she was not a man, she was relatively objective. At first she found some of them shocking, especially the sado/maso or weird animal liaisons, but soon enough they became dull in their repetition of what was, after all, a straightforward act: copulation. Men did seem to have rather repetitive tastes. Spirit focused on the peripherals. She considered originality, artistry, humor, clarity, coherence, and theme, seeking some story value along with beauty of the women and virility of the men. She also had a special criterion: reverse roles, where men played the parts of women, and women of men. In the feelies that was sexual, so that male users could experience the sensations of women as they participated sexually. That made this line distinct from most others, so that it would not get lost in the welter of similar offerings. Her choices became the EMPTY HAND line.
    It sold well. She did seem to have the touch, mainly because she was considering the larger picture. She continued with the line, giving the feelie participants names: Major, Charity, Faith, Hope, Helse. But not Spirit. That would give her away, and part of the point was that at such time as Hope discovered this series, the omission would tell him who was behind it. Meanwhile her position was secure; she was contributing to the welfare and comfort of the ship.
    After a year she was allowed to go on salvage missions. One man was assigned to be her buddy; they would look out for each other while off-ship. She thought it was just a formality, but didn't object. His name was Bruiser, and he was a powerful man, but he had never razzed her. In fact he had quietly helped her on occasion, and seemed to be decent as pirates went.
    “Why not?” she asked him as they suited up.
    He knew what she meant. “I was second in line for your big sister,” he said. “I figure if we ever see her again, maybe you'll put in a good word for me.”
    He didn't know that Hope was male; none of them did. They all watched the feelies, but had never made the connection to the one they knew as the boy Sancho. But she was touched, because it was evident that Bruiser didn't like beating on children, and was using this as a pretext. “I will,” she said.
    They locked on to the derelict. All ships and bubbles this crew boarded were derelicts, even if they had not been prior to contact. This one contained a number of grotesque bodies. The pirates ignored them, being used to this, but Spirit thought again of the bodies of the children, and Helse before them.
    This ship contained stores of spices, valuable on the black market. They carried the boxes into The Hidden Flower, where they would be sorted and indexed for marketing. There was a considerable trade among pirates, with different ships specializing in particular things. This one marketed whatever it found, and made a marginal living as such things went. The idea that all pirates had hoards of gold and rare liquor was false; most had mean existences, always with the threat of being blown apart by a Navy vessel that wasn't on the take.
    When Spirit picked up the last box, something felt strange. Bruiser was on it immediately. He put his helmet to hers. “You got a pinhole leak! A splinter on that box.”
    So she did; she could see the tiny vapor jet. He