“Military field. I have to see a man — and today there is just time.” They walked toward a gate. Krausa stopped, looked around; they were alone. “Thorby –”
“Yes, Father?”
“Do you remember the message from Baslim you delivered to me?”
“Sir?”
“Can you repeat it?”
“Huh? Why, I don’t know. Father. It’s been a long time.”
“Try it. Start in: To Captain Fjalar Krausa, master of Starship Sisu, from Baslim the Cripple: Greetings, old friend! — ‘ ”
” ‘ “Greetings, old friend,” ‘ ” Thorby repeated. ” ‘Greetings to your family, clan, and sib, and’ — why, I understand it!”
“Of course,” the Krausa said gently, “this is the Day of Remembrance. Go on.”
Thorby went on. Tears started down his cheeks as he heard Pop’s voice coming from his own throat: ” ‘ — and my humblest respects to your revered mother. I am speaking to you through the mouth of my adopted son. He does not understand Suomic’ — oh, but I do!”
“Go on.”
When Thorby reached: ” ‘I am already dead — ‘ ” he broke down. Krausa blew his nose vigorously, told him to proceed. Thorby managed to get to the end, though his voice was shaking. Then Krausa let him cry a moment before telling him sternly to wipe his face and brace up. “Son . . . you heard the middle part? You understood it?”
“Yes . . . uh, yes. I guess so.”
“Then you know what I have to do.”
“You mean . . . I have to leave Sisu?”
“What did Baslim say? ‘When opportunity presents –‘ This is the first opportunity I’ve had . . . and I’ve had to squeeze to get it. It’s almost certainly the last. Baslim didn’t make me a gift of you, Son — just a loan. And now I must pay back the loan. You see that, don’t you?”
“Uh . . . I guess so.” “Then let’s get on with it.” Krausa reached inside his jacket, pulled out a sheaf of bills and shoved them at Thorby. “Put this in your pocket. I would have made it more, but it was all I could draw without attracting your Mother’s suspicions. Perhaps I can send you more before you jump.”
Thorby held it without looking at it, although it was more money than he had ever touched before. “Father . . . you mean I’ve already left Sisu?”
Krausa had turned. He stopped. “Better so, Son. Good-byes are not comfort; only remembrance is a comfort. Besides, It has to be this way.”
Thorby swallowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go.”
They walked quickly toward the guarded gate. They were almost there when Thorby stopped. “Father . . . I don’t want to go!”
Krausa looked at him without expression. “You don’t have to.”
“I thought you said I did have to?”
“No, The injunction laid on me was to deliver you and to pass on the message Baslim sent to me. But there my duty ends, my debt is paid. I won’t order you to leave the Family. The rest was Baslim’s idea . . . conceived, I am sure, with the best of intentions for your welfare. But whether or not you are obligated to carry out his wishes is something between you and Baslim. I can’t decide it for you. Whatever debt you may or may not owe Baslim, it is separate from the debt the People owed to him.”
Krausa waited while Thorby stood mute, trying to think. What had Pop expected of him? What had he told him to do? “Can I depend on you? You won’t goof off and forget it?” Yes, but what, Pop? “Don’t burn any offerings . . . just deliver a message, and then one thing more: do whatever this man suggests” Yes, Pop, but the man won’t tell me!
Krausa said urgently, “We haven’t much time. I have to get back. But, Son, whatever you decide, it’s final. If you don’t leave Sisu today, you won’t get a second chance. I’m sure of that”
“It’s the very last thing that I want from you, son . . . can I depend on you?” Pop said urgently, inside his head.