Free Charon by Jack Chalker

coaches made entirely out of what appeared to be wood, were there: pulling each of them was a pair of monster lizards, each almost four meters tall. Well, they weren't quite lizards, but that was the closest you could come. They were bipedal, standing on enormous, muscular legs, balancing themselves by use of a long, thick tail. Their saurianlike heads, with unblinking eyes of burning red, were not only enormous but looked full of row after row of sharp teeth. Two small arms ended in handlike appendages now flexed in apparent anticipation—or boredom. Those hands, smaller versions of the enormous feet, were composed of three, long Jointed fingers connected by webbing that made them look like giant leaves. The fingers ended in suckerlike tips. The splayed hand and foot was, as I later learned, a feature of many of the animals of Charon. Instead of having reptilian scales, the great creatures were smooth-skinned, and colored a uniform and ridiculous-looking perfect baby blue.
      Each wore an elaborate looking bridle, with a network of reins rivaling a marionette's strings in number and complexity, that stretched back into a raised driver compartment above the coach proper. The driving compartment was completely enclosed, and included a windscreen with a huge windscreen wiper.
      I jumped into the nearest coach, almost slipping on the smooth paving despite the warning—that rain was so fierce it almost hurt—and found myself jammed in with five other prisoners and the male Charonite. The coach was quite comfortable, with soft, padded upholstery but it would have been a lot more comfortable with two less people.
      After closing and locking the door, our coach, the lead one, started off with a strong jerk. The ride was not at all comfortable; extremely hard and bumpy all the way, with the coach lurching this way and that, more like a ship at sea in a storm than basic ground transportation. I saw the Charonite looking at us with some amusement, probably wondering if any of us were going to get seasick. "Don't worry, it's not a long trip. Sorry about this, but it's considered deluxe transportation here on Charon."
      'This ain't Lilith—machines operate there," a big man sitting next to him grumbled. "How come all this primitive shit?"
      "Some machines operate here, when they are permitted to," the native responded somewhat enigmatically. "Fact is , most of this misery is a sort of compromise. Machinery's so easy to foul it isn't worth a damn here anyway, so we go with what we can. For the most part though, it's this bad or worse. Better get used to losing a couple of thousand years, " cause that's what you just did."
      "Damn foolishness," the big man grumped, but the rest of us remained silent, either because we didn't know enough or out of real depression.
      Within five minutes the coach rolled to a stop with a jerk even worse than the start. I thought to myself that these vehicles could use seat belts more than the space shuttles, but said nothing. My situation was still too new and I was far too green, not to mention soaked and perspiring from the heat.
      It was a relief when the door was opened, since at least it let in a breeze with the ram. The Charonite emerged and stood there, almost oblivious to the rain, helping us all down and pointing to a nearby door, which we made for. Once inside that door we were all dripping wet again and a little dazed, but after a half a minute or so I got my bearings and was able to look around.
      When they said the place was primitive they weren't kidding. The buildings seemed to be made mostly of various kinds of native wood, along with other plants of the area. They were well-crafted but very utilitarian, that was for sure. Along the walk of polished mosaic in front of the buildings on this side of the street, were what appeared to be wick-lamps, burning oil of some kind magnified through polished glass. The reason they didn't fall victim to the rain was ingenious: between