“I suppose it is. The College has only a small Galactovue and I must admit that it is hard to realize that what appears to be an inch or so is actually many light-years.”
“About a hundred and seventy light-years, in this case.”
“Let me see, how much would that be in miles?”
“You don’t measure it that way, any more than you measure that couchomat you’re on in microns.”
“Come now, young man, don’t be pedantic.”
“I wasn’t being, Grandfather. I was thinking that it was a long way from where I was captured to where I was last sold. I hadn’t known it”
“I heard you use that term ‘sold’ once before. You must realize that it is not correct. After all, the serfdom practiced in the Sargony is not chattel slavery. It derives from the ancient Hindu gild or ‘caste’ system — a stabilized social order with mutual obligations, up and down. You must not call it ‘slavery.’ ”
“I don’t know any other word to translate the Sargonese term.”
“I could think of several, though I don’t know Sargonese . . . it’s not a useful tongue in scholarship. But, my dear Thor, you aren’t a student of human histories and culture. Grant me a little authority in my own field.”
“Well . . .” Thorby felt baffled. “I don’t know System English perfectly and there’s a lot of history I don’t know — there’s an awful lot of history.”
“So there is. As I am the first to admit”
“But I can’t translate any better — I was sold and I was a slave!”
“Now, Son.”
“Don’t contradict your grandfather, dear, that’s a good boy.”
Thorby shut up. He had already mentioned his years as a beggar — and discovered that his grandmother was horrified, had felt that he had disgraced himself, though she did not quite say so. And he had already found that while his grandfather knew much about many things, he was just as certain of his knowledge when Thorby’s eyes had reported things differently. Thorby concluded glumly that it was part of being senior and nothing could be done about it He listened while Grandfather Bradley discoursed on the history of the Nine Worlds. It didn’t agree with what the Sargonese believed but wasn’t too far from what Pop had taught him — other than about slavery. He was glad when the talk drifted back to the Rudbek organization. He admitted his difficulties.
“You can’t build Rome in a day, Thor.”
“It looks as if I never would learn! I’ve been thinking about going back into the Guard.”
His grandfather frowned. “That would not be wise.”
“Why not, sir?”
“If you don’t have talent for business, there are other honorable professions.”
“Meaning the Guard isn’t?”
“Mmm . . . your grandmother and I are philosophical pacifists. It cannot be denied that there is never a moral justification for taking human life.”
“Never,” agreed grandmother firmly.
Thorby wondered what Pop would think? Shucks, he knew! — Pop cut ’em down like grass to rescue a load of slaves. “What do you do when a raider jumps you?”
“A what?”
“A pirate. You’ve got a pirate on your tail and closing fast.”
“Why, you run, I suppose. It’s not moral to stay and do battle. Thor, nothing is ever gained by violence.”
“But you can’t run; he has more legs. It’s you or him.”
“You mean ‘he.’ Then you surrender; that defeats his purpose . . . as the immortal Gandhi proved.”
Thorby took a deep breath. “Grandfather, I’m sorry but it doesn’t defeat his purpose. You have to fight Raiders take slaves. The proudest thing I ever did was to burn one.”
“Eh? ‘Burn one’?”
“Hit him with a target-seeker. Blast him out of the sky.”
Grandmother gasped. At last his grandfather said stiffly, “Thor, I’m afraid you’ve been exposed to bad influences. Not your fault, perhaps. But you have many misconceptions, both in fact and in evaluation. Now be logical. If you ‘burned him’ as you say, how do you know he intended — again, as you say — to ‘take slaves’? What could he do with them? Nothing.”
Thorby kept silent. It made a difference which side of the Plaza you saw a thing from . . . and if you didn’t have status, you weren’t listened to. That was a universal rule.