In this moment of insight Thorby felt that he ought to sign those proxies for Uncle Jack, who had earned the job whereas Thorby had merely inherited it. Uncle Jack must have been terribly disappointed when he had turned up alive; it must have seemed an utterly unfair twist of fate.
Well, let him have it! Settle things and join the Guard.
But Thorby was not ready to back down to Judge Bruder. He had been pushed around — and his strongest reflex was resistance to any authority he had not consented to; it had been burned into his soul with whips. He did not know this — he just knew that he was going to be stubborn. He decided that Pop would want him to be.
Thought of Pop reminded him of something. Was Rudbek connected, even indirectly, with the slave trade? He realized now why Pop wanted him to hang on — he could not quit until he knew . . . nor until he had put a stop to it if the unspeakable condition did exist. But how could he find out? He was Rudbek of Rudbek . . . but they had him tied with a thousand threads, like the fellow in that story Pop had told . . . “Gulliver and his Starship,” that was it.
Well, let’s see. Pop had reported to “X” Corps that there was a tie-up among some big spaceship outfit, the Saigon’s government, and the raider-slavetraders. Raiders had to have ships. Ships . . . there was a book he had read last week, Galactic Transport’s history of every ship they had built, from #0001 to the latest He went into his library. Hmm . . . tall red book, not a tape.
Confounded thing was missing . . . like a lot of things lately. But he had almost renshawed the book, being interested in ships. He started making notes.
Most of them were in service inside the Hegemony, some in Rudbek interests, some in others. Some of his ships had been sold to the People, a pleasing thought. But some had wound up registered to owners he could not place . . . and yet he thought he knew the names, at least, of all outfits engaged in legitimate interstellar trade under the Hegemony — and he certainly would recognize any Free Trader clan.
No way to be sure of anything from his desk, even if he had the book. Maybe there was no way, from Terra . . . maybe even Judge Bruder and Uncle Jack would not know if something fishy were going on.
He got up and switched on the Galactovue he had had installed. It showed only the explored traction of the Galaxy — even so, the scale was fantastically small.
He began operating controls. First he lighted in green the Nine Worlds. Then he added, in yellow, pestholes avoided by the People. He lighted up the two planets between which he and his parents had been captured, then did the same for every missing ship of the People concerning which he happened to know the span of the uncompleted jump.
The result was a constellation of colored lights, fairly close together as star distances go and in the same sector as the Nine Worlds. Thorby looked at it and whistled. Pop had known what he was talking about — yet it would be hard to spot unless displayed like this.
He began thinking about cruising ranges and fueling stations maintained by Galactic Transport out that way . . . then added in orange the banking offices of Galactic Acceptance Corporation in the “neighborhood.”
Then he studied it
It was not certain proof — yet what other outfit maintained such activities facing that sector?
He intended to find out.
Chapter 20
Thorby found that Leda had ordered dinner in the garden. They were alone, and falling snow turned the artificial sky into an opalescent bowl. Candles, flowers, a string trio, and Leda herself made the scene delightful but Thorby failed to enjoy it, even though he liked Leda and considered the garden the best part of Rudbek Hall. The meal was almost over when Leda said, “A dollar for your thoughts.”