What should he do? Say, “Excuse me, please,” leave the room — then start running? Stay lost until Sisu jumped? He couldn’t do that! Not to father, not to Sisu; he owed them too much.
What, then? Tell Grandmother he wanted off? If she let him off, it would probably be some chilly spot between stars! Grandmother would regard ingratitude to Sisu as the unforgivable sin.
And besides . . . The Gathering was coming. He felt a great itch to see it. And it wouldn’t be right to walk out on the play. He was not consciously rationalizing; although stage-struck, he still thought that he did not want to play the hero in a melodrama — whereas he could hardly wait.
So he avoided his dilemma by postponing it.
Captain Krausa touched his shoulder. “We’re leaving.”
“Oh. Sorry, Father. I was thinking.”
“Keep it up, it’s good exercise. Good-by, Director, and thanks. I look forward to seeing you next time we call.”
“You won’t find me, Captain. I’m going to line me out a station, as far as eye can reach. Land of me own. If you ever get tired of steel decks, there’s room here for you. And your boy.”
Captain Krausa’s face did not show his revulsion. “Thanks. But we wouldn’t know which end of a plow to grab. We’re traders.”
“Each cat his own rat.”
When they were outside Thorby said, “What did he mean, Father? I’ve seen cats, but what is a rat?”
“A rat is a sorci, only thinner and meaner. He meant that each man has his proper place.”
“Oh.” They walked in silence. Thorby was wondering if he had as yet found his proper place.
Captain Krausa was wondering the same thing. There was a ship just beyond Sisu; its presence was a reproach. It was a mail courier, an official Hegemonic vessel, crewed by Guardsmen. Baslim’s words rang accusingly in his mind: ” — when opportunity presents, I ask that you deliver him to the commander of any Hegemonic military vessel.”
This was not a “military” vessel But that was a quibble; Baslim’s intentions were plain and this ship would serve. Debts must be paid. Unfortunately Mother interpreted the words strictly. Oh, he knew why; she was determined to show off the boy at the Gathering. She intended to squeeze all possible status out of the fact that Sisu had paid the People’s debt. Well, that was understandable.
But it wasn’t fair to the boy!
Or was it? For his own reasons Krausa was anxious to take the lad to the Gathering. He was certain now that Thorby’s ancestry must be of the People — and in the Commodore’s files he expected to prove it.
On the other hand — He had agreed with Mother over Mata Kingsolver; a minx should not be allowed to back a taboo lad into a corner, better to ship her at once. But didn’t Mother think he could see what she was up to now?
He wouldn’t permit it! By Sisu, he wouldn’t! The boy was too young and he would forbid it . . . at least until he proved that the boy was of the People, in which case the debt to Baslim was paid.
But that mail courier out there whispered that he was being as unwilling to acknowledge honest debt as he was accusing Mother of being.
But it was for the lad’s own good!
What is justice?
Well, there was one fair way. Take the lad and have a showdown with Mother. Tell the lad all of Baslim’s message. Tell him that he could take passage in the courier to the central worlds, tell him how to go about finding his family. But tell him, too, that he, the Krausa, believed that Thorby was of the People and that the possibility could and should be checked first. Yes, and tell him bluntly that Mother was trying to tie him down with a wife. Mother would scream and quote the Laws — but this was not in the Chief Officer’s jurisdiction; Baslim had laid the injunction on him. And besides, it was right; the boy himself should choose.
Spine stiffened but quaking. Captain Krausa strode back to face his Mother.