by Jack Vance
Chilke looked into the hangar. “Sisco? Where are you? Asleep? Oh, I see. Not asleep. Just lying down resting. Why are you tired? You haven’t done any work. But never mind that. Come out here; I want to talk to you.”
Sisco emerged from the hangar: a young man with tawny golden skin, hair of almost the same color, a fine physique and features of classic beauty. If his appearance were to be faulted in any wise, it might be said that his eyes were spaced a trifle too widely apart. He looked back and forth between Glawen and Chilke, then, smiling the vague Yip smile, came gingerly forward.
Chilke spoke gently. “Sisco, do you know the difference between a Class A beating, a Class B beating and the beating of a lifetime?”
Sisco smilingly shook his head. “You talk in riddles. I know nothing of these bad things, which are never nice in the polite conversation.”
“Do you know the difference between what is yours and what is mine?”
Sisco’s face clouded over with puzzlement. “For my answer to be right you must say what thing of yours and what thing of mine. Or is it another vulgarity, that you are talking, and even in front of this boy?”
Chilke gave his head a sad shake. “Sometimes, Sisco, you make me blush for your odd notions.”
“That is not what I started to do.”
“No matter. What I want is for you to come with me now, to where you put the ammo from the gun.”
Sisco said blankly: “Gun? Ammo?”
“I want to get it now, before I start beating on you.”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“What’s funny?”
“All your jokes, about things like ammo. They are funny.”
“They’re not jokes. Glawen isn’t laughing. You watch him. When he laughs, you laugh.”
“Certainly, sir. Shall I watch him now, at this time, or shall I go to my work?”
“First: the ammo from the gun in the Mitrix. Where is it?”
“Oh! That ammo! Why didn’t you say so? You caused me worries! It wasn’t any good and I took it out to put in much better stuff for protection, and then I was asked to do a thousand duties. When I came back the ammo was gone. Someone had seen it was bad and thrown it away.”
“Glawen, have you ever heard such lies? Fetch me that rope, so that I can tie Sisco up.”
“Now, then,” said Sisco uneasily. “I know that you like to make jokes between friends, but sometimes it is nicer to use what I call happy words. Otherwise, what will this boy think? I am a fine person.”
“For the last time: where is the ammo?”
“Oh, that stuff! I think I saw something like it at the back of the shop. Some unruly person, or maybe a thief, must have put it there.”
“That’s just about right. Today Glawen tried to shoot a tangle-top which was charging him. He pointed the gun and pulled the trigger, but there was no ammo, because you had stolen it. Luckily, the tangle-top was frightened and ran away.”
“That was a brave adventure!” said Sisco. “You, young sir, have a deep power! I can feel it! Can you feel it, my friend Chilke? It is a noble force! What a blessing for you! And now I am rested and I have my duties.”
Chilke said: “Let’s get the ammo before the beating. At the back of the shop, you say?”
Sisco held up a tremulous finger. “It has just come to my mind! Without thinking I believe that I took the useless old stuff to my room! You may sit still and rest! I will run to fetch it!”
“I will come too, but not on the run. Glawen, what about you?”
“I’ve had enough excitement for the day. I’m going home.”
“Very well. When you have some free time, I’ll show you how to use the gun. There’s the right way and the wrong way. It never hurts to be ready; the folk who turn their backs on trouble only get their arses kicked.”
“I’d appreciate that very much.” Glawen departed.
Scharde was not on hand when Glawen returned to their chambers in Clattuc House. Glawen flung himself wearily down on the couch and immediately fell asleep.
He awoke to find that Syrene had set and dusk had come to Araminta Station. Scharde still had not returned: an unusual circumstance.
Glawen washed his face and hands, brushed his hair and went down to the refectory for his dinner. A few minutes later Arles appeared. He took note of Glawen, who looked away, but in vain. Arles marched across the room and settled into the seat beside Glawen. He asked: “What’s behind all this uproar? Why did you cause such a dustup?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Arles uttered a bark of laughter. “Do you expect me to believe that? You took Sessily out in the flyer and landed where you could go hard at it, in peace and quiet. Then, as I hear it, you lost the gun, and when you got back blamed the Yip, so that he got in trouble for nothing.”
Glawen stared at Arles in indignation. “Where did you hear such absolute nonsense?”
“No matter where I heard it! And that’s not all!”
“You mean there’s more?”
“Of course! Chilke, who passed you on the flyer but wouldn’t pass me on a technicality, believed you again and started to abuse the poor Yip. Namour wouldn’t allow it and told Chilke where he stood! There were words, and in the end Namour discharged Chilke from his position. And that’s the outcome of your little expedition.”
Glawen spoke in a contemptuous voice: “You are wrong in every detail. Sessily and I went to Maroli Meadow for butterfly wings, not to go hard at it, as you elegantly put it.”
Arles uttered another unctuous laugh. “More fool you, then! I’ve seen the way she acts whenever there’s a fellow around: don’t tell me she’s all so innocent!”
“I’m telling you only the truth. I lost no gun; I merely discovered that Sisco had stolen the ammo, and so informed Chilke.”
“Hmf! Namour doesn’t believe it, because he fired Chilke. That’s that, and that’s what counts.”
Scharde came into the refectory. He settled into the chair across from Glawen and asked: “Where have you been during the excitement?”
“I’ve been asleep. Arles says that Namour has fired Chilke from his job. Is that the excitement?”
Scharde looked at Arles in surprise. “Namour has no such authority. He’s in charge of the Yips, no more. Where did you pick up that choice bit of nonsense?”
‘“From my mother,” growled Arles. “She said that Namour was supervisor of all outside labor.”
“She is quite incorrect. Both Namour and Chilke work out of Bureau D, at about the same level. Secondly there never was any question of discharging Chilke. If anyone, Namour has the explaining to do. Bureau B has been looking into the matter all afternoon, and I’ll be going back as soon as I get something to eat.”
Arles said in a surly tone: “That’s not the way I heard it. But I suppose you know what you are talking about.”
“I can tell you this,” said Scharde. “There is more to the matter than meets the eye. I’ll say no more now, but you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”
* * *
Chapter I, Part 9
The following afternoon Glawen went to Veder House, to help Sessily construct her butterfly wings. As they worked, he reported the events subsequent to his return of the Mitrix. “I saw Chilke this morning,” said Glawen. “According to him, I missed all the fun. He says it was like a trained-animal extravaganza, with one dramatic deed following hard on the one before. Namour started out automatically defending Sisco, without any concern for the facts. He said to Chilke: ‘Of course they purloin an oddment now and again! We all know it! What do you expect of them? It’s an unspoken perquisite of the job!’
“‘No longer!’ said Chilke. ‘That perquisite stopped the moment I took over as manager.’
“This is when Namour fired Chilke. He said: ‘In that case, you’re relieved of the job here and now! Get your gear together and get off the planet, because you’re definitely not going to change the way we do things at Araminta Station.’
> “Chilke just laughed at him. He said: ‘Stealing charges of ammo isn’t just a prank. If you think it is, maybe you better leave instead of me. It’s a very serious matter. Let’s go right now and look in Sisco’s room. Anything from the airport I want back, right now. That’s my responsibility.’
“Namour refused to make a move. Chilke said in that case he was going to look into Sisco’s room, regardless. Namour seemed to lose his head. He told Chilke that if he made a move the Yips at Namour’s orders would pitch him out of the compound.
“Chilke got bored with wrangling and telephoned Bureau B from the dispensary. Namour suddenly cooled off and began to make reasonable noises. While they were waiting, Sisco sneaked off to his room, evidently intending to hide the loot. Chilke had been watching for just that and followed Sisco into the room. He found an amazing hoard: a gun, many charges of ammo, flyer parts: all stuff that Sisco had stolen from the airport.
“Spanchetta had appeared on the scene. She became excited, and asked Chilke: ‘How dare you threaten poor Sisco on such paltry grounds?’ And: ‘Don’t you think that this is an intolerably arrogant act, to be taking the law into your own hands, especially after you have been discharged from your post?’”
Sessily asked in fascination: “What did Chilke say to that?”
“He said: ‘Madame, I was not discharged, and I was not taking the law into my own hands. I was taking airport property into my own hands. It represents a considerable sum of money.’
“Spanchetta said that principles were more important than money, but now Bureau B arrived: my father, Wals Diffin and old Bodwyn Wook himself. No one agreed with Spanchetta, not even Namour.”
“And what will happen to Sisco?”
“He’ll be sent back to Yipton without wages; that’s about all that can reasonably be done to him. But the case isn’t closed yet. Everyone is down at the compound now, making a tour inspection, and even the new Conservator has been notified. I should be there too, but I won’t be missed and I’d rather be with you.”
“Thank you, Glawen. I’d hate to miss Parilia because of Sisco’s crimes, as I might if these wings don’t get done.”
“I think we’re coming along quite nicely.”
“I do too.” Already they had built four frames of bamboo withe, over which they had stretched transparent film; now they glued wings to the film, in accordance with a pattern. They worked in a combination studio-storage room under the west wing of Veder House, with sunlight entering through a line of windows. Sessily wore soft pink trousers and a gray pullover shirt: garments which failed to disguise the contours of her body, of which Glawen became ever more conscious. At last, he came to stand beside her, where she bent over the table. She felt his nearness and looked up, half smiling. Glawen caught her in his arms and kissed her with an intensity she could not fail to understand, and to which she responded. At last they pulled apart and stood facing one another.
Glawen said huskily: “I don’t know whether it’s because of ideas Arles put into my head or because I’ve begun thinking of my own accord. Either way I find it hard to stop.”
Sessily, smiling ruefully, said: “To blame Arles because you want to love me - that’s not very flattering.”
Glawen said hastily: “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that –”
“Hush,” said Sessily. “Don’t explain. Talk is always a distraction. Think, instead.”
“Think? Of what?”
“Well . . . Perhaps of Arles.”
Glawen was puzzled. “If you like. For how long?”
“Only an instant. Just long enough to realize that I have feelings too, and Arles said nothing to me.” She took a step back. “Glawen, no. I shouldn’t have said that. My mother might be looking in at any moment . . . In fact, listen! I hear her coming now. Get busy.”
Footsteps approached, certain and brisk. The door opened and it was indeed Felice Veder who came into the room: a pretty woman of early maturity, not much larger than Sessily, characterized by an innate decisiveness, as if her conduct were controlled by patterns of absolute validity which needed no attention.
Felice paused a moment to appraise Glawen and Sessily. Her gaze took in Glawen’s uneasy posture and Sessily’s flush and somewhat tumbled brown curls. She came to the table and inspected the wings. “Oh, how beautiful! Those will be truly spectacular, especially when they glow in the light! Am I wrong, or is it a trifle warm down here? Why don’t you open the windows?”
“Yes, it’s a bit warm,” Sessily agreed. “Glawen, would you please - but no! If the wind blows in, it will shift all the patterns.”
“True,” said Felice. “Well, I have much to do. Keep up the good work!”
She departed. A few minutes later another set of footsteps sounded in the hall. Sessily listened. “It’s Squeaker. Mother decided that we need supervision.” She glanced sidelong at Glawen. “With good reason, perhaps?”
Glawen grimaced. “Now she’ll make sure that we’re never alone.”
Sessily laughed. “Small chance of that . . . Although sometimes I want things to go on forever, just as they are.”
Into the room came a girl: a slight little creature about ten years old, with Sessily’s snub nose and brown curls. Sessily looked up.
“Hello, Squeaker: What are you doing down here among the rats and vermin and jumpy bugs?”
“Mother says that I am to help you, and that Glawen must work very hard so that his mind does not wander off among the flowers. Isn’t that a strange thing for Mother to say?”
“Very strange. She is unpredictable. she means, of course, that Glawen is something of a poet, and unless you and I direct his every move, he’ll just stand and daydream.”
“Hm. Do you really think that’s what she meant?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“When can I have a turn directing Glawen?”
Sessily said: “Sometimes, Squeaker, I suspect that you are far wiser than you let on. You definitely may not have a turn with Glawen. Not until I have put him through all his paces, and proved that he is tame. Now, then, come over here and make yourself useful.”
“Are there really rats and vermin down here?”
“I don’t know. Go look in that dark corner, behind those boxes. If something jumps out at you - well, we’ll all know not to do it again.”
“It’s not all that important, thank you.”
Sessily told Glawen: “Squeaker is very brave in such matters, remarkably so.”
“Not exactly,” said Squeaker. “In fact, not at all, though it’s nice of you to say so. Also, I’ve been thinking lately that I’d rather not be called Squeaker anymore. Glawen, did you hear that?”
“I certainly did. What should we call you?”
“My real name is Miranda. It sounds more like a girl than ‘Squeaker.’”
“Perhaps so,” said Glawen. “What does ‘Squeaker’ sound like, in your opinion?”
“I know what it sounds like! When anyone says ‘Squeaker’ they think of me.”
“Exactly right!” said Sessily. “Well, we must change our ways. Especially since ‘Miranda’ is a pretty name, just right for a nice girl who is not a brat, like so many other little sisters I know.”
“Thank you, Sessily.”
* * *
Chapter I, Part 10
Just after sundown Glawen returned to Clattuc House, and once again Scharde was gone from their chambers. Glawen stood indecisively, disturbed by a feeling of guilt for some deed or misdeed which he could not define, but for which Scharde’s absence seemed to reproach him. What could his father be doing at this quiet hour of the evening? The matter of Sisco’s larceny must long since have been settled . . . Glawen telephoned Namour’s office but made no contact. He called Bureau B headquarters at the New Agency and was told that in all likelihood Scharde was still occupied at the compound.
Glawen waited no longer. He left the chambers, departed Clattuc House and started for the compound, only to be met by Scharde.
Glawen said hurriedly: “I was just starting out to look for you. What has kept you so long?”
“Quite a good bit,” said Scharde. “Wait for me in the refectory. I’ll be down as soon as I wash up.”
Ten minutes later Scharde joined Glawen at the table where he sat nibbling on cheese and salt biscuits. Scharde asked: “And where have you been hiding yourself all afternoon? You were needed.”
“I’m sorry,” said Glawen. “I was helping Sessily with her costume. I wasn’t aware that anything was going on.”
“I might have guessed,” said Scharde. “Parilia must proceed, or so I suppose. We managed without you, and probably saved your young lives in the process. Although, now that I think of it, you had a hand in the matter yourself.”
“But what happened?”
Scharde was silent while the Yip waiter served them soup. Then he: said: “It is truly a wonderful chain of circumstances. Parilia seems to have a charmed life of its own.”
“How so?”
“If it were not for Parilia, Sessily would never have wanted butterfly wings. You would not have heroically tried to shoot tangle-tops with an empty gun. Chilke’s honor would not have been outraged and he would not have forced his way into Sisco’s room, to make his awesome discovery. Bureau B would not have been called down to the compound, where we searched room after room, and found not only mounds and heaps of stolen goods and aircraft parts, but also a small arsenal. Every Yip at the compound owned a weapon: knives, dart shooters, spantics and twenty-eight guns. The place was an armed camp. Namour declares himself dumbfounded. He is very subdued at the moment, and he admits Chilke was right, although for the wrong reasons.”