Citizen of the Galaxy

Chapter 14

The great gathering was even more than Thorby had imagined. Mile after mile of ships, more than eight hundred bulky Free Traders arranged in concentric ranks around a circus four miles across... Sisu in the innermost circle -- which seemed to please Thorby's Mother -- then more ships than Thorby knew existed: Kraken, Deimos, James B. Quinn, Firefly, Bon Marche, Dom Pedro, Cee Squared, Omega, El Nido -- Thorby resolved to see how Mata was doing -- Saint Christopher, Vega, Vega Prime, Galactic Banker, Romany Lass... Thorby made note to get a berthing chart... Saturn, Chiang, Country Store, Joseph Smith, Aloha...

There were too many. If he visited ten ships a day, he might see most of them. But there was too much to do and see; Thorby gave up the notion.

Inside the circle was a great temporary stadium, larger than the New Amphitheater at Jubbulpore. Here elections would be held, funerals and weddings, athletic contests, entertainments, concerts -- Thorby recalled that Spirit of Sisu would be performed there and trembled with stage fright.

Between stadium and ships was a midway -- booths, rides, games, exhibits educational and entertaining, one-man pitches, dance halls that never closed, displays of engineering gadgets, fortunetellers, gambling for prizes and cash, open-air bars, soft drink counters offering anything from berry juices of the Pleiades worlds to a brown brew certified to be the ancient, authentic Terran Coca-Cola as licensed for bottling on Hekate.

When he saw this maelstrom Thorby felt that he had wandered into Joy Street -- bigger, brighter, and seven times busier than Joy Street with the fleet in. This was the fraki's chance to turn a fairly honest credit while making suckers of the shrewdest businessmen in the Galaxy; this was the day, with the lid off and the Trader without his guards up -- they'd sell you your own hat if you laid it on the counter.

Fritz took Thorby dirtside to keep him out of trouble, although Fritz's sophistication was hardly complete, since he had seen just one Great Gathering. The Chief Officer lectured the young people before granting hit-dirt, reminding them that Sisu had a reputation for proper behavior, and then issued each a hundred credits with a warning that it must last throughout the Gathering.

Fritz advised Thorby to cache most of it. "When we go broke, we can sweet-talk Father out of pocket money. But it's not smart to take it all."

Thorby agreed. He was not surprised when he felt the touch of a pickpocket; he grabbed a wrist to find out what he had landed.

First he recovered his wallet. Then he looked at the thief. He was a dirty-faced young fraki who reminded Thorby poignantly of Ziggie, except that this kid had two hands. "Better luck next time," he consoled him. "You don't have the touch yet."

The kid seemed about to cry. Thorby started to turn him loose, then said, "Fritz, check your wallet."

Fritz did so, it was gone. "Well, I'll be --"

"Hand it over, kid."

"I didn't take it! You let me go!"

"Cough up... before I unscrew your skull."

The kid surrendered Fritz's wallet; Thorby turned him loose. Fritz said, "Why did you do that? I was trying to spot a cop."

"That's why."

"Huh? Talk sense."

"I tried to learn that profession once. It's not easy."

"You? A poor joke, Thorby."

"Remember me? The ex-fraki, the beggar's boy? That clumsy attempt to equalize the wealth made me homesick. Fritz, where I come from, a pickpocket has status. I was merely a beggar."

"Don't let Mother hear that."

"I shan't. But I am what I am and I know what I was and I don't intend to forget. I never learned the pickpocket art, but I was a good beggar, I was taught by the best. My Pop. Baslim the Cripple. I'm not ashamed of him and all the Laws of Sisu can't make me."

"I did not intend to make you ashamed," Fritz said quietly.

They walked on, savoring the crowd and the fun. Presently Thorby said, "Shall we try that wheel? I've spotted the gimmick."

Fritz shook his head. "Look at those so-called prizes."

"Okay. I was interested in how it was rigged."

"Thorby --"

"Yeah? Why the solemn phiz?"

"You know who Baslim the Cripple really was?"

Thorby considered it. "He was my Pop. If he had wanted me to know anything else, he would have told me."

"Mmm... I suppose so."

"But you know?"

"Some."

"Uh, I am curious about one thing. What was the debt that made Grandmother willing to adopt me?"

"Uh, 'I have said enough.' "

"You know best."

"Oh, confound it, the rest of the People know! It's bound to come up at this Gathering."

"Don't let me talk you into anything, Fritz."

"Well... look, Baslim wasn't always a beggar."

"So I long since figured out."

"What he was is not for me to say. A lot of People kept his secret for years; nobody has told me that it is all right to talk. But one fact is no secret among the People... and you're one of the People. A long time ago, Baslim saved a whole Family. The People have never forgotten it. The Hansea, it was... the New Hansea is sitting right over there. The one with the shield painted on her. I can't tell you more, because a taboo was placed on it -- the thing was so shameful that we never talk about it. I have said enough. But you could go over to the New Hansea and ask to look through her old logs. If you identified yourself -- who you are in relation to Baslim -- they couldn't refuse. Though the Chief Officer might go to her cabin afterwards and have weeping hysterics."

"Hmm... I don't want to know badly enough to make a lady cry. Fritz? Let's try this ride." So they did -- and after speeds in excess of light and accelerations up to one hundred gravities, Thorby found a roller coaster too exciting. He almost lost his lunch.

A Great Gathering, although a time of fun and renewed friendships, has its serious purposes. In addition to funerals, memorial services for lost ships, weddings, and much transferring of young females, there is also business affecting the whole People and, most important, the paramount matter of buying ships.

Hekate has the finest shipyards in the explored Galaxy. Men and women have children; ships spawn, too. Sisu was gravid with people, fat with profit in uranium and thorium; it was time that the Family split up. At least a third of the families had the same need to trade wealth for living room; fraki shipbrokers were rubbing their hands, mentally figuring commissions. Starships do not sell like cold drinks; shipbrokers and salesmen often live on dreams. But perhaps a hundred ships would be sold in a few weeks.

Some would be new ships from the yards of Galactic Transport, Ltd., daughter corporation of civilization-wide Galactic Enterprises, or built by Space Engineers Corporation, or Hekate Ships, or Propulsion, Inc., or Hascomb & Sons -- all giants in the trade. But there was cake for everyone. The broker who did not speak for a builder might have an exclusive on a second-hand ship, or a line to a rumor of a hint that the owners of a suitable ship might listen if the price was right -- a man could make a fortune if he kept his eyes open and his ear to the ground. It was a time to by-pass mails and invest in expensive n-space messages; the feast would soon be over.

A family in need of space had two choices: either buy another ship, split and become two families, or a ship could join with another in purchasing a third, to be staffed from each. Twinning gave much status. It was proof that the family, which managed it, were master traders, able to give their kids a start in the world without help. But in practice the choice usually dwindled to one: join with another ship and split the expense, and even then it was often necessary to pledge all three ships against a mortgage on the new one.

It had been thirty years since Sisu had split up. She had had three decades of prosperity; she should have been able to twin. But ten years ago at the last Great Gathering Grandmother had caused Sisu to guarantee along with parent ships the mortgage against a ship newly born. The new ship gave a banquet honoring Sisu, then jumped off into dark and never came back. Space is vast. Remember her name at Gathering.

The result was that Sisu paid off one-third of forty percent of the cost of the lost ship; the blow hurt. The parent ships would reimburse Sisu -- debts are always paid -- but they had left the last Gathering lean from having spawned; coughing up each its own liability had left them skin and bones. You don't dun a sick man; you wait

Grandmother had not been stupid. The parent ships, Caesar Augustus and Dupont, were related to Sisu; one takes care of one's own. Besides, it was good business; a trader unwilling to lend credit will discover that he has none. As it was, Sisu could write a draft on any Free Trader anywhere and be certain that it would be honored.

But it left Sisu with less cash than otherwise at a time when the Family should split.

Captain Krausa hit dirt the first day and went to the Commodore's Flag, Norbert Wiener. His wife stayed aboard but was not idle; since her succession to Chief Officer, she hardly slept. Today she worked at her desk, stopping for face-to-face talks with other chief officers via the phone exchange set up by city services for the Gathering. When her lunch was fetched, she motioned to put it down; it was still untouched when her husband returned. He came in and sat down wearily. She was reading a slide rule and checked her answer on a calculator before she spoke. "Based on a Hascomb F-two ship, the mortgage would run just over fifty percent"

"Rhoda, you know Sisu can't finance a ship unassisted."

"Don't be hasty, dear. Both Gas and Dupont would cosign... in their case, it's the same as cash."

"If their credit will stretch."

"And New Hansea would jump at it -- under the circumstances -- and --"

"Rhoda! You were young, two Gatherings ago, but you are aware that the debt lies equally on all... not just Hansea. That was unanimous."

"I was old enough to be your wife, Fjalar. Don't read the Laws to me. But New Hansea would jump at the chance... under a secrecy taboo binding till the end of time. Nevertheless the carrying charges would eat too much. Did you get to see a Galactic Lambda?"

"I don't need to; I've seen the specs. No legs."

"You men! I wouldn't call eighty gravities 'no legs.' "

"You would if you had to sit in the worry seat. Lambda class were designed for slow freight inside the Hegemonic sphere; that's all they're good for."

"You're too conservative, Fjalar."

"And I'll continue to be where safety of a ship is concerned."

"No doubt And I'll have to find solutions that fit your prejudices. However, Lambda class is just a possibility. There is also you-know-which. She'll go cheap."

He frowned. "An unlucky ship."

"It will take powerful cleansing to get those bad thoughts out. But think of the price."

"It's more than bad thoughts in you-know-which-ship. I never heard of a chief officer suiciding before. Or a captain going crazy. I'm surprised they got here."

"So am I. But she's here and she'll be up for sale. And any ship can be cleansed."

"I wonder."

"Don't be superstitious, dear. It's a matter of enough care with the rituals, which is my worry. However, you can forget the you-know-which-one. I think we'll split with another ship."

"I thought you were set on doing it alone?"

"I've merely been exploring our strength. But there are things more important than setting up a new ship single-handed."

"There certainly are! Power, a good weapons system, working capital, blooded officers in key spots -- why, we can't man two ships. Take firecontrolmen alone. If --"

"Stop fretting. We could handle those. Fjalar, how would you like to be Deputy Commodore?"

He braked at full power. "Rhoda! Are you feverish?"

"No."

"There are dozens of skippers more likely to be tapped. I'll never be Commodore -- and what's more, I don't want it."

"I may settle for Reserve Deputy, since Commodore Denbo intends to resign after the new deputy is elected. Never mind; you will be Commodore at the next Gathering."

"Preposterous!"

"Why are men so impractical? Fjalar, all you think about is your control room and business. If I hadn't kept pushing, you would never have reached deputy captain."

"Have you ever gone hungry?"

"I'm not complaining, dear. It was a great day for me when I was adopted by Sisu. But listen. We have favors coming from many sources, not just Gus and Dupont. Whatever ship we join with will help. I intend to leave the matter open until after election -- and I've had tentative offers all morning, strong ships, well connected. And finally, there's New Hansea."

"What about New Hansea?"

"Timed properly, with the Hanseatics proposing your name, you'll be elected by acclamation."

"Rhoda!"

"You won't have to touch it. And neither will Thorby. You two will simply appear in public and be your charming, male, non-political selves. I'll handle it By the way, it's too late to pull Loeen out of the play but I'm going to break that up fast Your Mother did not see the whole picture. I want my sons married -- but it is essential that Thorby not be married, nor paired off, until after the election. Now... did you go to the flagship?"

"Certainly."

"What ship was he born in? It could be important."

Krausa gave a sigh. "Thorby was not born of the People."

"What? Nonsense! You mean that identification is not certain. Mmm... which missing ships are possibilities?"

"I said he was not of the People! There is a not a ship missing, nor a child missing from a ship, which can be matched with his case. He would have to be much older, or much younger, than he is."

She shook her head. "I don't believe it."

"You mean you don't want to!"

"I don't believe it. He's People. You can tell it in his walk, his manner, his good mind, everything about him. Hmm... I'll look at the files myself."

"Go ahead. Since you don't believe me."

"Now, Fjalar, I didn't say --"

"Oh, yes, you did. If I told you it was raining dirtside, and you didn't want rain, you --"

"Please, dear! You know it never rains this time of year on Hekate. I was just --"

"Sky around us!"

"There's no need to lose your temper. It doesn't become a captain."

"It doesn't become a captain to have his word doubted in his own ship, either!"

"I'm sorry, Fjalar." She went on quietly, "It won't hurt to look. If I widened the search, or looked through unfiled material -- you know how clerks are with deadfile data. Mmm... it would help if I knew who Thorby's parents were -- before election. While I shan't permit him to marry before then, I might line up important support if it was assumed that immediately after, a wedding could be expec --"

"Rhoda."

"What, dear? The entire Vega group could be swayed, if a presumption could be established about Thorby's birth... if an eligible daughter of theirs --"

"Rhoda!"

"I was talking, dear."

"For a moment, I'll talk. The Captain. Wife, he's fraki blood. Furthermore, Baslim knew it... and laid a strict injunction on me to help him find his family. I had hoped -- yes, and believed -- that the files would show that Baslim was mistaken." He frowned and chewed his lip. "A Hegemonic cruiser is due here in two weeks. That ought to give you time to assure yourself that I can search files as well as any clerk."

"What do you mean?"

"Is there doubt? Debts are always paid... and there is one more payment due."

She stared. "Husband, are you out of your mind?"

"I don't like it any better than you do. He's not only a fine boy; he's the most brilliant tracker we've ever had."

"Trackers!" she said bitterly. "Who cares about that? Fjalar, if you think that I will permit one of my sons to be turned over to fraki --" She choked up.

"He is fraki."

"He is not. He is Sisu, just as I am. I was adopted, so was he. We are both Sisu, we will always be."

"Have it your way. I hope he will always be Sisu in his heart. But the last payment must be made."

"That debt was paid in full, long ago!"

"The ledger doesn't show it."

"Nonsense! Baslim wanted the boy returned to his family. Some fraki family -- if fraki have families. So we gave him a family -- our own, clan and sept. Is that not better payment than some flea-bitten fraki litter? Or do you think so little of Sisu?"

She glared up at him, and the Krausa thought bitterly that there must be something to the belief that the pure blood of the People produced better brains. In dickering with fraki he never lost his temper. But Mother -- and now Rhoda -- could always put him in the wrong.

At least Mother, hard as she had been, had never asked the impossible. But Rhoda... well, Wife was new to the job. He said tensely, "Chief Officer, this injunction was laid on me personally, not on Sisu. I have no choice."

"So? Very well, Captain -- well speak of it later. And now, with all respect to you, sir, I have work to do."

Thorby had a wonderful time at the Gathering but not as much fun as he expected; repeatedly Mother required him to help entertain chief officers of other ships. Often a visitor brought a daughter or granddaughter along and Thorby had to keep the girl busy while the elders talked. He did his best and even acquired facility in the half-insulting small talk of his age group. He learned something that he called dancing which would have done credit to any man with two left feet and knees that bent backwards. He could now put his arm around a girl when music called for it without chills and fever.

Mother's visitors quizzed him about Pop. He tried to be polite but it annoyed him that everyone knew more about Pop than he did -- except the things that were important.

But it did seem that duty could be shared. Thorby realized that he was junior son, but Fritz was unmarried, too. He suggested that if Fritz were to volunteer, the favor could be returned later.

Fritz gave a raucous laugh. "What can you offer that can repay me for dirtside time at Gathering?"

"Well..."

"Precisely. Seriously, old knucklehead, Mother wouldn't listen, even if I were insane enough to offer. She says you, she means you." Fritz yawned. "Man, am I dead! Little red-head off the Saint Louis wanted to dance all night. Get out and let me sleep before the banquet."

"Can you spare a dress jacket?"

"Do your own laundry. And cut the noise."

But on this morning one month after grounding Thorby was hitting dirt with Father, with no chance that Mother would change their minds; she was out of the ship. It was the Day of Remembrance. Services did not start until noon but Mother left early for something to do with the election tomorrow.

Thorby's mind was filled with other matters. The services would end with a memorial to Pop. Father had told him that he would coach him in what to do, but it worried him, and his nerves were not soothed by the fact that Spirit of Sisu would be staged that evening.

His nerves over the play had increased when he discovered that Fritz had a copy and was studying it. Fritz had said gruffly, "Sure, I'm learning your part! Father thought it would be a good idea in case you fainted or broke your leg. I'm not trying to steal your glory; it's intended to let you relax -- if you can relax with thousands staring while you smooch Loeen."

"Well, could you?"

Fritz looked thoughtful. "I could try. Loeen looks cuddly. Maybe I should break your leg myself."

"Bare hands?"

"Don't tempt me. Thorby, this is just precaution, like having two trackers. But nothing less than a broken leg can excuse you from strutting your stuff."

Thorby and his Father left Sisu two hours before the services. Captain Krausa said, "We might as well enjoy ourselves. Remembrance is a happy occasion if you think of it the right way -- but those seats are hard and it's going to be a long day."

"Uh, Father... just what is it I'll have to do when it comes time for Pop -- for Baslim?"

Nothing much. You sit up front during the sermon and give responses in the Prayer for the Dead. You know how, don't you?"

"I'm not sure."

"I'll write it out for you. As for the rest... well, you'll see me do the same for my Mother -- your Grandmother. You watch and when it comes your turn, you do the same."

"All right, Father."

"Now let's relax."

To Thorby's surprise Captain Krausa took a slideway outside the Gathering, then whistled down a ground car. It seemed faster than those Thorby had seen on Jubbul and almost as frantic as the Losians. They reached the rail station with nothing more than an exchange of compliments between their driver and another, but the ride was so exciting that Thorby saw little of the City of Artemis.

He was again surprised when Father bought tickets. "Where are we going?"

"A ride in the country." The Captain glanced at his watch. "Plenty of time."

The monorail gave a fine sensation of speed. "How fast are we going. Father?"

"Two hundred kilometers an hour, at a guess." Krausa had to raise his voice.

"It seems faster."

"Fast enough to break your neck. That's as fast as a speed can be."

They rode for half an hour. The countryside was torn up by steel mills and factories for the great yards, but it was new and different; Thorby stared and decided that the Sargon's reserve was a puny enterprise compared with this. The station where they got off lay outside a long, high wall; Thorby could see space ships beyond it. "Where are we?"

"Military field. I have to see a man -- and today there is just time." They walked toward a gate. Krausa stopped, looked around; they were alone. "Thorby --"

"Yes, Father?"

"Do you remember the message from Baslim you delivered to me?"

"Sir?"

"Can you repeat it?"

"Huh? Why, I don't know. Father. It's been a long time."

"Try it. Start in: To Captain Fjalar Krausa, master of Starship Sisu, from Baslim the Cripple: Greetings, old friend! -- ' "

" ' "Greetings, old friend," ' " Thorby repeated. " 'Greetings to your family, clan, and sib, and' -- why, I understand it!"

"Of course," the Krausa said gently, "this is the Day of Remembrance. Go on."

Thorby went on. Tears started down his cheeks as he heard Pop's voice coming from his own throat: " ' -- and my humblest respects to your revered mother. I am speaking to you through the mouth of my adopted son. He does not understand Suomic' -- oh, but I do!"

"Go on."

When Thorby reached: " 'I am already dead -- ' " he broke down. Krausa blew his nose vigorously, told him to proceed. Thorby managed to get to the end, though his voice was shaking. Then Krausa let him cry a moment before telling him sternly to wipe his face and brace up. "Son... you heard the middle part? You understood it?"

"Yes... uh, yes. I guess so."

"Then you know what I have to do."

"You mean... I have to leave Sisu?"

"What did Baslim say? 'When opportunity presents --' This is the first opportunity I've had... and I've had to squeeze to get it. It's almost certainly the last. Baslim didn't make me a gift of you, Son -- just a loan. And now I must pay back the loan. You see that, don't you?"

"Uh... I guess so." "Then let's get on with it." Krausa reached inside his jacket, pulled out a sheaf of bills and shoved them at Thorby. "Put this in your pocket. I would have made it more, but it was all I could draw without attracting your Mother's suspicions. Perhaps I can send you more before you jump."

Thorby held it without looking at it, although it was more money than he had ever touched before. "Father... you mean I've already left Sisu?"

Krausa had turned. He stopped. "Better so, Son. Good-byes are not comfort; only remembrance is a comfort. Besides, It has to be this way."

Thorby swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Let's go."

They walked quickly toward the guarded gate. They were almost there when Thorby stopped. "Father... I don't want to go!"

Krausa looked at him without expression. "You don't have to."

"I thought you said I did have to?"

"No, The injunction laid on me was to deliver you and to pass on the message Baslim sent to me. But there my duty ends, my debt is paid. I won't order you to leave the Family. The rest was Baslim's idea... conceived, I am sure, with the best of intentions for your welfare. But whether or not you are obligated to carry out his wishes is something between you and Baslim. I can't decide it for you. Whatever debt you may or may not owe Baslim, it is separate from the debt the People owed to him."

Krausa waited while Thorby stood mute, trying to think. What had Pop expected of him? What had he told him to do? "Can I depend on you? You won't goof off and forget it?" Yes, but what, Pop? "Don't burn any offerings... just deliver a message, and then one thing more: do whatever this man suggests" Yes, Pop, but the man won't tell me!

Krausa said urgently, "We haven't much time. I have to get back. But, Son, whatever you decide, it's final. If you don't leave Sisu today, you won't get a second chance. I'm sure of that"

"It's the very last thing that I want from you, son... can I depend on you?" Pop said urgently, inside his head.

Thorby sighed. "I guess I have to, Father."

"I think so, too. Now let's hurry."

The gate pass office could not be hurried, especially as Captain Krausa, although identifying himself and son by ship's papers, declined to state his business with the commander of Guard Cruiser Hydra other than to say that it was "urgent and official."

But eventually they were escorted by a smart, armed fraki to the cruiser's hoist and turned over to another. They were handed along inside the ship and reached an office marked "Ship's Secretary -- Enter Without Knocking." Thorby concluded that Sisu was smaller than he had thought and he had never seen so much polished metal in his life. He was rapidly regretting his decision.

The Ship's Secretary was a polite, scrubbed young man with the lace orbits of a lieutenant. He was also very firm. "I'm sorry. Captain, but you will have to tell me your business... if you expect to see the Commanding Officer."

Captain Krausa said nothing and sat tight.

The nice young man colored, drummed on his desk. He got up. "Excuse me a moment."

He came back and said tonelessly, "The Commanding Officer can give you five minutes." He led them into a larger office and left them. An older man was there, seated at a paper-heaped desk. He had his blouse off and showed no insignia of rank. He got up, put out his hand, and said, "Captain Krausa? Of Free Trader... Seezoo, is it? I'm Colonel Brisby, commanding."

"Glad to be aboard, Skipper."

"Glad to have you. How's business?" He glanced at Thorby. "One of your officers?"

"Yes and no."

"Eh?"

"Colonel? May I ask in what class you graduated?"

"What? Oh-Eight. Why do you ask?"

"I think you can answer that. This lad is Thorby Baslim, adopted son of Colonel Richard Baslim. The Colonel asked me to deliver him to you."