So Dad turned to paragraph seven and his eyebrows went higher and his pipe went out. He looked at Pat. “Do I understand that they intend to appoint you two ‘communications technicians tenth grade’ with no experience?”
Uncle Steve sat up and almost knocked his chair over.
“Bruce, did you say ‘tenth grade’?”
“So it says.”
“Regular LRF pay scales?”
“Yes. I don’t know how much that is, but I believe they ordinarily hire skilled ratings beginning at third grade.”
Uncle Steve whistled. “I’d hate to tell you how much money it is, Bruce-but the chief electron pusher on Pluto is tenth pay grade … and it took him twenty years and a doctor’s degree to get there.” Uncle Steve looked at us.
“Give out, shipmates. Where did they bury the body? Is it a bribe?” Pat did not answer. Uncle Steve turned to Dad and said, “Never mind the fine print, Bruce; just have the kids sign it. Each one of them will make more than you and me together. Never argue with Santa Claus.”
But Dad was already reading the fine print, from sub-paragraph one-A to the penalty clauses. It was written in lawyer language but what it did was to sign us up as crew members for one voyage of an LRF ship, except that one of us was required to perform his duties Earthside. There was lots more to nail it down so that the one who stayed Earth-side could not wiggle out, but that was all it amounted to.
The contact did not say where the ship would go or how long the voyage would last.
Dad finally put the contract down and Charity grabbed it. Dad took it from her and passed it over to Mother. Then he said, “Boys, this contract looks so favorable that I suspect there must be a catch. Tomorrow morning I’m going to get hold of Judge Holland and ask him to go over it with me. But if I read it correctly, you are being offered all these benefits-and an extravagant salary-provided one of you makes one voyage in the Lewis and Clark.”
Uncle Steve said suddenly, “The Lewis and Clark, Bruce?”
“The Lewis and Clark, or such sister ship as may be designated. Why? You know the ship, Steve?”
Uncle Steve got poker-faced and answered, “I’ve never been in her. New ship, I understand. Well equipped.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Dad looked at Mum. “Well, Molly?”
Mother did not answer. She was reading the contract and steadily getting whiter. Uncle Steve caught my eye and shook his head very slightly. I said to Pat, (“Uncle Steve has spotted the catch in it.”)
“He won’t hinder. “
Mother looked up at last and spoke to Dad in a high voice. “I suppose you are going to consent?” She sounded sick. She put down the contract and Charity grabbed it again just as Hope grabbed it from the other side. It ended with our brother-in-law Frank Dubois holding it while everybody else read over his shoulders.
“Now, my dear,” Dad said mildly, “remember that boys do grow up. I would like to keep the family together forever-but it can’t be that way and you know it.”
“Bruce, you promised that they would not go out into space.”
Her brother shot her a glance-his chest was covered with ribbons he had won in space. But Dad went on just as mildly. “Not quite, dear. I promised you that I would not consent to minority enlistment in the peace forces; I want them to finish school and I did not want you upset. But this is another matter … and, if we refuse, it won’t be long before they can enlist whether we like it or not.”
Mother turned to Uncle Steve and said bitterly, “Stephen, you put this idea in their heads.”
He looked annoyed then answered as gently as Dad.
“Take it easy, Sis. I’ve been away; you can’t pin this on me. Anyhow, you don’t put ideas in boys’ heads; they grow them naturally.”
Frank Dubois cleared his throat and said loudly, “Since this seems to be a family conference, no doubt you would like my opinion.”
I said, to Pat only, (‘Nobody asked your opinion, you lard head!”)