Her words sounded outrageous. “How can we be both free and not free?” he protested.
“Ask Mata. Thorby, you live in a steel prison; you are allowed out perhaps a few hours every few months. You live by rules more stringent than any prison. That those rules are intended to make you all happy — and do — is beside the point; they are orders you have to obey. You sleep where you are told, you eat when you are told and what you are offered — it’s unimportant that it is lavish and tasty; the point is you have no choice. You are told what to do ninety percent of the time. You are so bound by rules that much of what you say is not free speech but required ritual; you could go through a day and not utter a phrase not found in the Laws of Sisu. Right?”
“Yes, but –”
“Yes, with no ‘buts.’ Thorby, what sort of people have so little freedom? Slaves? Can you think of a better word?”
“But we can’t be sold!”
“Slavery has often existed where slaves were never bought and sold, but simply inherited. As in Sisu. Thorby, being a slave means having someone as your master, with no hope of changing it. You slaves who call yourselves the ‘People’ can’t even hope for manumission.”
Thorby scowled. “You figure that’s what’s wrong with me?”
“I think your slave’s collar is chafing you, in a fashion that does not trouble your shipmates — because they were born with theirs and you were once free.” She looked at her belongings. “I’ve got to get this stuff into El Nido. Will you help me?”
“I’d be glad to.”
“Don’t expect to see Mata.”
“I wasn’t,” Thorby fibbed. “I want to help you. I hate to see you leave.”
“Truthfully, I don’t hate to leave . . . but I hate to say good-by to you.” She hesitated. “I want to help you, too. Thorby, an anthropologist should never interfere. But I’m leaving and you aren’t really part of the culture I was studying. Could you use a hint from an old woman?”
“Why, you aren’t old!”
“That’s two gallant speeches. I’m a grandmother, though the Chief Officer might be startled to hear me claim that status. Thorby, I thought you would become adjusted to this jail. Now I’m not sure. Freedom is a hard habit to break. Dear, if you decide that you can’t stand it, wait until the ship calls at a planet that is democratic and free and human — then hit dirt and run! But, Thorby, do this before Grandmother decides to marry you to someone, because if you wait that long — you’re lost!”
Chapter 12
Losian to Finster, Finster to Thoth IV, Thoth IV to Woolamurra, Sisu went skipping around a globe of space nine hundred light-years in diameter, the center of which was legendary Terra, cradle of mankind. Sisu had never been to Terra; the People operate out where pickings are rich, police protection non-existent, and a man can dicker without being hampered by finicky regulations.
Ship’s history alleged that the original Sisu had been built on Terra and that the first Captain Krausa had been born there, a (whisper it) fraki. But that was six ships ago and ship’s history was true in essence, rather than fiddlin’ fact. The Sisu whose steel now protected the blood was registered out of New Finlandia, Shiva III . . . another port she had never visited but whose fees were worth paying in order to have legal right to go about her occasions whenever, in pursuit of profit, Sisu went inside the globe of civilization. Shiva III was very understanding of the needs of Free Traders, not fussy about inspections, reports, and the like as long as omissions were repaired by paying penalties; many ships found her registration convenient.
On Finster Thorby learned another method of trading. The native fraki, known to science by a pseudo-Latin name and called “Those confounded slugs!” by the People, live in telepathic symbiosis with lemur-like creatures possessed of delicate, many-boned hands — “telepathy” is a conclusion; it is believed that the slow, monstrous, dominant creatures supply the brains and the lemuroids the manipulation.