Take The Star Road (The Maxwell Saga)

by Peter Grant

  "Sure. Gold's good anywhere, and there are always those who'll pay a premium for stones from Old Home Earth. Don't ask me why, when most planets mine perfectly good stones of their own! Anyway, enough about that for now. What sort of help do you need? Is it anything to do with that cut on your forehead? I can whistle up some of my crew if you need a little muscle to lean on someone."

  "You're a good friend, Vince. Thanks for offering, and I know you mean it, but it's over now - largely thanks to Steve here. He's been hanging around up here on the Terminal for about six months, working odd jobs, looking for a merchant spacer apprentice berth. I hired him part-time to help clean up at weekends, which is how he happened to be here when I needed him. I put him on full-time staff after the dust settled."

  "What happened?"

  "The Lotus Tong tried to move in on me. He helped fight them off."

  "Can't say I've heard of the Lotus; but didn't you have an arrangement with the Dragon Tong to keep others off your back? They're the biggest, baddest space crime syndicate out there. I thought everyone knew not to mess with them!"

  "Yeah. They got really pissed when I told them about it. The Lotus Tong's a small-time outfit based in Old Hong Kong. When the Dragons heard about my little problem, they sent a crew down that same day to deal with them. Things have been mighty peaceful since then."

  "I just bet they have!" The two exchanged a knowing look. "How did it come to a fight, anyway? Didn't the Lotus know who they were tangling with?"

  "They were dumb and impatient. They tried to strong-arm me into a protection racket, and jumped me later that same evening after I told 'em to get lost. I guess they wanted to make an example of me. They damn near succeeded, too! There were six of 'em, with knives and swords. They moved in as I closed up last Sunday night."

  The spacer sat up with a jerk, eyes wide with astonishment. "And you're still alive, after a fight with six Tong bladesmen? You're either a first-class fighting man or the luckiest son-of-a-gun in space - maybe both! Did you have a pistol?"

  "Officially and for the record, no comment!" They grinned at each other. Vince knew as well as Louie that private ownership of projectile or beam weapons was forbidden on the Terminal. "Of course, having Steve around was as good as being armed. He's trained in karate, and damn, he can fight! He decked three of them, one with a weird twisting backhand punch that hit him underneath his nose. I've never seen anything like it - the bladesman got a look of pure, naked agony on his face, and went down like he'd been pole-axed!"

  The spacer nodded. "Philtrum, right, Steve?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  Louie looked confused. "Phil-what?"

  "Philtrum - here." Vince touched the vertical crease in his upper lip beneath his nose. "It's got a nerve center beneath it. From the way you described the fight, Steve landed a uraken, a backfist strike, right in the sweet spot."

  "That's right, Sir," Steve agreed. "If you hit him there hard enough, you can kill a man. Did you study karate too, Sir?"

  "Yes, once upon a time. What's your rank?"

  "I'm second dan black belt, Sir."

  "Nidan, eh? I'm shodan myself, first dan - or I was twenty years ago, when I was last formally graded. I'm nowhere near that standard now, of course. I haven't had any chance to practice in years."

  "Once you've got it, Sir, you never really lose it. Six months with a good sparring partner and you'd be back in the groove."

  "I hope you're right. I enjoyed it, and it's damn good exercise, but there's not many dojo's in interstellar space!" They chuckled. "Did the cops have anything to say about the fuss?"

  Louie shook his head. "Didn't call them. I got the Dragon Tong to clear up the mess."

  The spacer winced involuntarily. "Those Lotuses won't bother you any more, then - or anyone else, for that matter!"

  "I guess not. Anyway, I was wondering if you might be able to help Steve. He's looking for a spacer apprentice berth, to work his way out of the Sol system and make a new life for himself somewhere else." Louie scowled. "I can't blame him for that, of course. Earth's become a stinking, socialist, statist hell-hole! If I wasn't making so much money here, I'd ship out tomorrow and make a fresh start somewhere else myself."

  The Bosun shook his head, smiling. "Louie, you'll always be where you can make the most money. Your loyalty's not to a planet - it's to your bank balance!"

  "And what makes you think I'd be stupid enough to put my money in a bank, where the tax people can find out about it? No, it's hard assets and negotiable instruments for me, stashed safely on several planets where no-one can find all of it at once!"

  "You're a wise man." Vince picked up his glass and sipped, eyes thoughtful. "Steve, we haven't hired an apprentice in years. The Cap'n prefers to hire trained spacers; says it's safer that way, for them and for the ship. Still, that's not set in stone. Why do you want to get off Earth?"

  "Sir, I want to live in a place where I can decide for myself what I want to do, and where I want to go, and how I want to live, without having to get some bureaucrat's permission first - not to mention pay him a bribe before he'll give it!" The young man's face twisted sourly, as if he wanted to spit in disgust.

  "I can understand that. Trouble is, wandering around the stars in a spaceship doesn't help you establish a life somewhere else. Where do you want to settle?"

  "I'd like to get to the Lancastrian Commonwealth, Sir. I've got to admit, my ears pricked when Mr. Brackmann said your ship is based there. I've read a lot about it. I like its emphasis on individual rights and responsibilities, and limited government. It sounds a lot like what the former United States was said to have been before the statists ruined it."

  Vince nodded approvingly. "That's what the Commonwealth's original members had in mind, and they built in a lot of hard limits to make sure it stayed that way. The old United States doomed itself through not ring-fencing its constitution to stop it being undermined. Our founders learned from that mistake. I'm a Commonwealth citizen myself - I was born and raised on New Brisbane, and it's still my home. Cabot's registered in the Commonwealth, too, on Lancaster itself. How do you plan to qualify for residency and a work permit? Our planets are very selective about immigration."

  "According to what I've read, Sir, the Commonwealth Fleet has a non-citizen service program. If I complete a four-year term of enlistment, I'll qualify for Commonwealth citizenship. Once I've got that, I can settle on any of its member worlds."

  "Quite right. There are twenty-seven member planets in the Commonwealth right now, with two more in the process of upgrading to full membership and another thirty associate members, so you'll have plenty of choice. What about your family? Don't they mind you going off and leaving them?"

  "I'm an orphan, Sir. I've got no brothers or sisters."

  "Oh. Sorry to hear that." Clearly a little embarrassed, the Bosun changed the subject. "Why didn't you take a basic spacer course at vo-tech school? That would have qualified you as a Spacer Third Class in six months, and made finding a berth much easier."

  Steve shrugged. "Sure, Sir, but that takes money. I don't have enough."

  "Why not apply for a study grant or loan?"

  "They're only available for qualifications that'll be used locally, Sir. You can't get one unless you undertake not to emigrate for at least ten years after graduation."

  The spacer shook his head in dismay. "I don't know any other planet with such restrictive policies. The Commonwealth reckons it's better for everyone if you're educated and qualified enough to support yourself, without being a burden on others. Besides, that way you become a taxpayer, which means more income for the government."

  Louie grimaced. "The reason's simple, Vince. Look what happened after the gravitic drive came along. Most of those who left were in the top ten per cent of Earth's population in terms of intelligence, drive and ability. They could see the way things were going here, and wanted no part of it. They sold all they had, cut all their ties, abandoned everything that held them back, and headed out. N
ot many had the guts or gumption to do that - it automatically culled all but the strongest candidates. Even then, they weren't accepted into a colony group unless they had skills, knowledge and abilities that were needed; and they had to come up with a stiff fare payment besides, or work their passage, or accept indentured servitude for several years at their destination. Result was, with so many good people leaving, Earth's average intelligence dropped measurably during the Scramble for Space. It's never fully recovered. That's why they try to stop any more of the smart ones from leaving."

  Vince sighed. "You're right, of course. The intelligence level on most colony planets still trends higher than on Earth." He looked at the youngster. "From the way you talk, Steve, I'd guess that holds good for you, too. What sort of basic education did you get?"

  "My parents were killed in an accident when I was five, Sir. Their will specified that their estate was to be used to send me to a private orphanage, rather than dump me in the public foster care system. I owe them for that, I guess. The Benedictines at St. Anselm's gave me a first-class schooling, and encouraged me to tack on some college courses - I've already completed half of a Bachelor of Science degree. That's another reason I'm interested in the Commonwealth Fleet. It's got Fleet University, to let its people study while they're serving. With the credits I've already got, I could finish my basic degree during my enlistment."

  "Not a bad idea at all. Any plans for a post-graduate degree?"

  "I've thought about studying gravitic engineering, Sir."

  The Bosun's eyebrows rose. "That's pretty heavy stuff! Do you have what it takes in terms of math and physics aptitude and background?"

  "I've passed the initial aptitude tests, Sir. I've got the results in my gear, along with all my academic transcripts. If I can save enough to afford it, I'll give it my best shot."

  "Hmm... A gravitic engineer can find work anywhere, that's for sure; but if you've got that kind of brain, you might find a merchant spacer's work real boring. It isn't very intellectual, unless you're doing engineering or navigation or something like that. Even then, it can be deadly dull for days or weeks on end. Could you cope with that without getting too frustrated?"

  "Sir, I'll do whatever I have to do. It hasn't exactly been a scholar's paradise, washing dishes, mopping floors and unpacking supplies up here!" Louie and Vince had to laugh at the young man's candor. "Sure, I want more of a challenge, but I've got to earn it the hard way."

  Vince rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We don't get many eggheads aboard merchant freighters. Can you get along with regular spacers without coming across as snooty, or a Johnny-head-in-air?"

  A smile flickered on Steve's face. "Ever thought about the mix of boys you get in an orphanage, Sir?"

  "I take your point. Yeah, if you can survive there for - how long?"

  "Just over twelve years, Sir. I entered when I was five, and left at eighteen."

  "OK. After twelve years there, I reckon you could fit in almost anywhere. How about discipline? Let me use Cabot as an example. As Bosun I keep the crew in line, and I don't mind admitting I have the reputation of being a hard taskmaster. I'm fair, but strict, and I don't put up with bullshit at all. If I tell someone to jump, the only thing they get to ask me is how high, how far and in what direction! Can you handle that?"

  "I've never worked in an environment like that, Sir, but I know I'll have to get used to it. After all, if I want to enlist in the Commonwealth Fleet, I'm sure they'll be at least as strict."

  "You bet! More than half of us aboard Cabot, including the skipper and most of the mates and warrant officers, are former Fleet personnel - me too; I left the service as a Senior Chief Petty Officer. That's why our shipboard discipline's stricter than the average merchant vessel's. We understand the need for it. One point in your favor is your martial arts background. To reach nidan so young, you'll have had to demonstrate maturity and very strong self-discipline, much more so than the average teenager. That's a good start. How much do you know about a spacer's job?"

  "A couple of years ago, as soon as I figured out it was my most likely ticket off-planet, I started studying part-time, Sir. I've taken and passed all the available online theory classes and examinations. According to local regulations, I've done enough to qualify for a Spacer Third Class rating once I've added the practical training."

  The Bosun's eyebrows rose. "You did all that on your own? That's impressive. Earth's standards aren't as rigorous as those of the Lancastrian Commonwealth, but they're not too shabby nonetheless - at least on paper."

  The waiter knocked on the door, then opened it, wheeling in a serving cart laden with plates, dishes and glasses of water. He served them, and they settled down to their meal. Vince added horseradish sauce to his plate, smeared a little on a piece of the succulent meat, put it in his mouth and chewed slowly, closing his eyes in pleasure as he relished the flavor. He swallowed. "Oh, man! That's ambrosia after weeks of spacer rations!"

  He looked at Steve. "It sounds like you've got a lot of the theory you'll need," he said thoughtfully, "and we have hypno-study materials in the ship's library to teach you the rest. That puts you head and shoulders over wannabe apprentices who've got it all to learn. I've got a Bosun's Mate Second Class, name of Tomkins, who's bucking for promotion to First Class next year. He needs experience as an instructor to qualify, and supervising your training would go a long way towards meeting that requirement. You realize that, as an apprentice, you'll be doing a lot of scut work - the dirty jobs qualified spacers don't like, and that we can't afford to assign to them because we're paying them to do more important stuff?"

  Steve swallowed a mouthful of food. "I understand, Sir. I guess you had to do the same when you got started."

  Vince choked as he laughed. Coughing, he cleared his throat. "You can say that again!" He sipped his water. "How old are you, Steve?"

  "I'll be nineteen next month, Sir."

  "What's your medical status? Are your immunizations all up to date and documented? What about travel documents?"

  "I've had all my shots, Sir. They're recorded in my passport. It's valid for ten years - well, nine, now - and endorsed for unrestricted travel."

  "How did you manage that? Earth isn't noted for issuing long-term unrestricted passports to its citizens, because so many never come back! They won't even allow off-planet recruiters to operate here."

  "Yes, Sir. Brother Bede at St. Anselm's pulled a few strings for me. I think one or two of his former students are working in that department."

  "You were very lucky. Nine years ought to be long enough to find your feet somewhere else. What about longevity treatments? Some planets require them all, and at nineteen you're already too old for some of the advanced therapies to take full effect."

  "I received them all before my sixteenth birthday, Sir. The state provides the basic regimen for everyone, of course. Brother Bede persuaded my parents' lawyer to allow me to use most of the residue of their estate to pay for a full suite of advanced therapies. He reckoned it would be much more useful to 'double my Biblical life-span', as he put it, than to waste the money on short-term expenses."

  "He's a wise man! You were lucky you had private means available."

  "Yes, Sir. It wasn't 'lucky' to lose my parents, but at least they did their best to provide for me if the worst happened."

  The Bosun hesitated, then made up his mind. "All right. I'll talk to Cap'n Volschenk about you. Don't get your hopes up too high!" he hastened to add as he saw the youngster's face light up with excitement. "He may turn me down. It's his decision in the end."

  "If the kid needs a reference, Vince, I'll give him one," Louie offered.

  Steve flushed. "Thanks, Mr. Brackmann. I really appreciate that."

  "I'll tell the Captain, but if he's willing to hire an apprentice - and as I said, he hasn't done that for a long time - he'll trust my judgment. He always does when it comes to hiring spacers. How can I reach you to let you know his decision?"

  "I'll give you my
comm code, Sir."

  Steve blinked as he focused on the contact lens in his right eye. His Personal Intelligent Assistant, tucked behind his right ear, displayed a series of icons representing other PIA's within range. He picked out one tagged as 'Cardle, V., Boatswain, LMV Sebastian Cabot', wrinkled the muscles around his eye socket to drop a cursor onto the name, then blinked again. In a few microseconds, the exchange of information was accomplished.

  "Got it, thanks," Vince acknowledged. "There's something else you've got to bear in mind. We're a tramp freighter. We go where our cargoes take us, and we're seldom sure where we'll be in three months' time. We may reach a Lancastrian Commonwealth planet fairly soon, or it might take us a year or more. If you want to talk to a Fleet recruiting office, you'll have to be patient."

  "Sir, if you offer me the chance to get there, and earn my keep while doing so, and learn skills I'll be able to use there, I'll be the most patient man on board!"

  Louie laughed as he placed a shrimp tail on the side of his plate. "In that case, you'll be the first patient teenager I've ever met!" Steve had the grace to blush. "Vince, what about his outfit? Will he need any special gear?"

  "I forgot to mention that. Steve, some cheap-ass ships let you come aboard in street clothes and build up your personal gear over time, but our standards aboard Cabot - aboard almost any Lancastrian ship, for that matter - are much higher. You'll need a lot of stuff: uniforms; a general purpose spacesuit - the ship provides the heavy cargo-handling suits; working utilities and protective gear; a pretty comprehensive toolkit and some other bits and pieces, plus personal items. Do you have an outfit like that?"

  Steve dropped his eyes, his voice chagrined. "No, Sir."

  Louie said, "Steve, the Dragon Tong hasn't got back to us yet about the 'compensation' they were going to extract from the Lotuses, but they will. Once they make a commitment they keep it, no matter what, so I know it's coming. You may never get an opportunity like this again, 'specially not aboard a Lancastrian merchant ship - they're top-rated everywhere in the settled galaxy - or under a Bosun as good as Vince here. I'd hate you to lose it because you aren't properly equipped. If Vince will give you a list of what you need, there's a good spacer outfitter two levels up. I'll stake you to a starter outfit, and recover the cost from your share of what the Dragons give us when it gets here. Make sure you get quality stuff, not cheap crap!" He glanced at Vince. "Put down everything he's likely to need, not just the essentials. He may as well start out fully equipped."