“Yes, I know. And we happened to meet on my way here.”
“How nice. Are you going to call on her this evening?”
“Some other time.”
“Her ship will leave before ours, do you know? You won’t see her for years. Unless . . .” The voice trailed off. Unless you marry her. She’s your sort, Kenri. She’d do well aboard Fleetwing. She’d give you fine children.
“Some other time,” he repeated, sorry for the brusqueness; but Nivala expected him. “Dad, what’s this about badges?”
Wolden Shaun grimaced. “A new tax on us,” he said. “No, worse than a tax. We have to wear them everywhere outside the Town, and pay through the nose for them. May every official of the Dominancy end in a leaky spacesuit with a plugged sanitor.”
“My group got passes at the spaceport, but we were told they were just for transit to here. Can I borrow yours tonight? I have to go into the city.”
Wolden gazed for a while at his only son before he turned around. “It’s in my study,” he said. “Come along.”
The room was crammed with his mementos. That sword had been given him by an armorer on Marduk, a four-armed creature who became his friend. That picture was a view from a moon of Osiris, frozen gases like amber in the glow of the mighty planet. Those horns were from a hunting trip on Rama, in the days of his youth. That graceful, enigmatic statuette had been a god on Dagon. Wolden’s close-cropped gray head bent over his desk as he fumbled among papers. He preferred them to a keyboard for composing the autobiography that officers were supposed to bequeath to their ships’ databases.
“Do you really mean to go through with this resignation?” he asked.
Kenri’s face heated. “Yes. I hate to hurt you and Mother, but — Yes.”
Wolden found what he was searching for. He let it lie. Face and tone kept the calm suitable to his rank. “I’ve seen others do it, mainly on colony planets but a couple of times on Earth. As far as I could learn afterward, mostly they prospered. But I suspect none of them were ever very happy.”
“I wonder,” said Kenri.
“In view of the conditions we’ve found here, the captain and mates are seriously considering a change of plans. Next voyage not to Aurora, but a long excursion. Long, including into regions new to us. We may not be back for a thousand years. There’ll be no more Dominancy. Your name will be forgotten.”
Kenri spoke around a thickness in his throat. “Sir, we don’t know what things will be like then. Isn’t it better to take what good there is while we can?”
“Do you truly hope to join the highborn? What’s great about them? I’ve seen fifteen hundred years of history, and this is one of the bad times. It will get worse.”
Kenri didn’t respond.
“That girl could as well be of a different species, son,” Wolden said. “She’s a Star-Free. You’re a dirty little tumy.”
Kenri could not meet his gaze. “Spacefarers have gone terrestrial before. They’ve founded lasting families.”
“That was then.”
“I’m not afraid. Sir, may I have the badge?”
Wolden sighed. “We won’t leave for at least six months — longer, if we do decide on a far-space run and need to make extra preparations. I can hope meanwhile you’ll change your mind.”
“I might,” said Kenri. And now I’m lying to you, Dad, Dad, who sang me old songs when I was little and guided my first extravehicular excursion and stood by me so proudly on my thirteenth birthday when I took the Oath.
“Here.” Wolden gave him the intertwined loops of black cords. He pulled a wallet from a drawer. “And here are five hundred decards of your money. Your account’s at fifty thousand and will go higher, but don’t let this get stolen.” Bitterness spat: “Why give an Earthling anything for nothing?” He clamped composure back down on himself.
“Thank you, sir.” Kenri touched the badge to his left breast. Molecules clung. It wasn’t heavy but it felt like a stone. He sheered off from that. Fifty thousand decards! What to buy? Stuff we can trade —