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Authors: David Feintuch
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to the port for the zoo?” I really oughtn’t to be seen in public, but in an excited crowd …
“Yeah!” Kevin’s face lit.
After a moment Mr Dakko said, “Why not? People rarely make such fools of themselves.”
Years ago, when he was Stadholder, Dad had growled that disembarkation day was a zoo, and the term had stuck. Eager colonists and green sailors hit Centraltown for their first and probably only visit, and citizens came out to welcome them in force. The zoo made quite a show.
“And Dr Zayre will be expecting Randy, afterward. Just past dinner.”
My face fell. “Yes, sir.” Mr Dakko was strict, sometimes even harsh. Why had I come to view his abode as home?
Later, before bed, Kevin and I lounged in his room. Our conversation turned to the newly arrived ship, and his father’s stint in the Navy.
I asked, “Ever think of joining up?”
“Not for a minute.” Kev lay back on his bed, arms over his head.
I glanced away. Not so much older than I, he seemed much more grown. Not just his manner; even his physique was almost a man’s. “Why not? It’d get you out of here.”
“I don’t want out.” He thought a while. “Ships are for making money off, not for sailing.”
“Dad thought otherwise.” My dad, I meant.
“So does mine, even if he was never an officer.”
“Why not?”
Kevin shrugged. “Dad says he was too immature at the time. Then why does he look back on his service with such nostalgia? An awful life, being ordered around, packed like sardines, a year between shore leaves. Know what my life will be?” He rolled over. “I’ve got it figured out. University, then banking, then when Dad’s ready, I’ll take over the business.”
“What’s so exciting about that?”
“It’s the banking that’s exciting. Control enough money, and we’ll build our own ships.”
“That takes specialized yards, the fabricating plants for the fusion—”
“Exactly, and it’s how Earth holds us over a barrel. They deny us technology that would make us independent. You know, those Naval bastards even ripped the fusion drive out of that obsolete warship they sent to replace Orbit Station after Seafort nuked it? Just to make sure we couldn’t recommission it and have a working starship.”
I shrugged. It had been Dad’s dream for years to break Earth’s monopoly on shipping. “Someday, the government—”
“Not the government. Us!” His eyes sparkled. “Imagine a company so strong, it builds and runs its own starships!”
“Hope Nation doesn’t have the shipyards to build—”
“Not just us, Randy, all the senior colonies, working together. We’ll carry ores from Kall’s Planet, grain from Hope Nation, fabrics and fashions from Earth … all at prices we set. We’ll appoint our own Captains, set our own schedules. When we’re wealthy enough, they won’t be able to stop us.”
“We?”
“Dakko & Son. Dad’s dream turned a victualling house into the Nation’s leading merchants. Mine is to haul cargo to the stars!”
Bulging out of Kev’s nondescript old clothes, my shock of wavy hair thrust under a velcap, I was just another joeykid. Few would pay me heed.
The spaceport was teeming. Perhaps not by Terran standards, but certainly by ours. All the shops were open, immigration officials were checking inoculations, shuttles were landing every thirty minutes, and for once, the terminal restaurant had a long, restless line.
Kevin followed me, somewhat glumly. He burned with desire to see the new ship. No doubt his father could arrange it, but Kevin had been hoping somehow to see it on his own.
I peered about the terminal, but the real fun was outside. I thrust through knots of disoriented passengers, made my way into the bright sunshine, Kevin at my heels.
All around us, eager entrepreneurs had thrown up impromptu stalls of every description. Ship-pale tourists and colonists pored over colorful shirts hauled fresh from Centraltown warehouses. One caught my eye:
“Yeah!” Kevin’s face lit.
After a moment Mr Dakko said, “Why not? People rarely make such fools of themselves.”
Years ago, when he was Stadholder, Dad had growled that disembarkation day was a zoo, and the term had stuck. Eager colonists and green sailors hit Centraltown for their first and probably only visit, and citizens came out to welcome them in force. The zoo made quite a show.
“And Dr Zayre will be expecting Randy, afterward. Just past dinner.”
My face fell. “Yes, sir.” Mr Dakko was strict, sometimes even harsh. Why had I come to view his abode as home?
Later, before bed, Kevin and I lounged in his room. Our conversation turned to the newly arrived ship, and his father’s stint in the Navy.
I asked, “Ever think of joining up?”
“Not for a minute.” Kev lay back on his bed, arms over his head.
I glanced away. Not so much older than I, he seemed much more grown. Not just his manner; even his physique was almost a man’s. “Why not? It’d get you out of here.”
“I don’t want out.” He thought a while. “Ships are for making money off, not for sailing.”
“Dad thought otherwise.” My dad, I meant.
“So does mine, even if he was never an officer.”
“Why not?”
Kevin shrugged. “Dad says he was too immature at the time. Then why does he look back on his service with such nostalgia? An awful life, being ordered around, packed like sardines, a year between shore leaves. Know what my life will be?” He rolled over. “I’ve got it figured out. University, then banking, then when Dad’s ready, I’ll take over the business.”
“What’s so exciting about that?”
“It’s the banking that’s exciting. Control enough money, and we’ll build our own ships.”
“That takes specialized yards, the fabricating plants for the fusion—”
“Exactly, and it’s how Earth holds us over a barrel. They deny us technology that would make us independent. You know, those Naval bastards even ripped the fusion drive out of that obsolete warship they sent to replace Orbit Station after Seafort nuked it? Just to make sure we couldn’t recommission it and have a working starship.”
I shrugged. It had been Dad’s dream for years to break Earth’s monopoly on shipping. “Someday, the government—”
“Not the government. Us!” His eyes sparkled. “Imagine a company so strong, it builds and runs its own starships!”
“Hope Nation doesn’t have the shipyards to build—”
“Not just us, Randy, all the senior colonies, working together. We’ll carry ores from Kall’s Planet, grain from Hope Nation, fabrics and fashions from Earth … all at prices we set. We’ll appoint our own Captains, set our own schedules. When we’re wealthy enough, they won’t be able to stop us.”
“We?”
“Dakko & Son. Dad’s dream turned a victualling house into the Nation’s leading merchants. Mine is to haul cargo to the stars!”
Bulging out of Kev’s nondescript old clothes, my shock of wavy hair thrust under a velcap, I was just another joeykid. Few would pay me heed.
The spaceport was teeming. Perhaps not by Terran standards, but certainly by ours. All the shops were open, immigration officials were checking inoculations, shuttles were landing every thirty minutes, and for once, the terminal restaurant had a long, restless line.
Kevin followed me, somewhat glumly. He burned with desire to see the new ship. No doubt his father could arrange it, but Kevin had been hoping somehow to see it on his own.
I peered about the terminal, but the real fun was outside. I thrust through knots of disoriented passengers, made my way into the bright sunshine, Kevin at my heels.
All around us, eager entrepreneurs had thrown up impromptu stalls of every description. Ship-pale tourists and colonists pored over colorful shirts hauled fresh from Centraltown warehouses. One caught my eye:
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