Family Law

by Mackey Chandler

  "You're celebrating a Greenie? Then what do you mean a service?"

  "We're the survivors," Gordon said simply.

  The bartender actually wiped the bar in front of them, a futile gesture but a kindness and when Lee's sandwich came he didn't have anything but cocktail napkins, but he arranged them as best he could for her.

  Lee leaned close and quietly asked, "What does neat mean for whiskey?"

  "It means just plain, Lee. Some people mix it with ice, or sweet stuff. Neat works better for toasts."

  "If the Hinth get so upset from anyone looking at them, how did they ever build a civilization? How do they get together and, you know, do stuff without everybody being upset all the time?"

  "Outside a close family group they wear a veil or a mask. People who go to Hin usually take up wearing one too. I understand once you know the code a Hinth's mask tells you gender and Clan and how big a deal he is in his business."

  "That seems silly and unnatural to me," Lee scowled.

  "Really?" Gordon lifted an eyebrow at her, a human gesture he'd perfected. "I always felt the same way about Earth humans wearing pants. Tell you what. Drop your trousers off and walk around the station today with your bare behind hanging out in the breeze and see if it feels less silly and more natural."

  "You got fur!" Lee said indignantly and then sat and thought about it a bit. "I was narrow minded and prejudiced, Unc," she admitted after a bit. "I'm sorry."

  "It's nothing," Gordon said tweaking her ear playfully, "You're still learning loads."

  It was a big sandwich, on grilled bread, shiny with grease, which was just fine with Gordon. She finished half of it with the help of some mustard. Gordon popped the rest in his mouth whole.

  The barkeep poured for the Hinth, who didn't acknowledge it, back to them and himself, a half shot of clear fluid in front of Lee. Gordon's shot was four ounces.

  "To discovery, we had a find this trip," Gordon announced and held the glass up in salute and downed it. Lee followed suit.

  Down bar the one drunk said, "Discovery" and downed it. The other said, "Show 'em the money!" and downed his. The Hinth simply tossed it back.

  Lee didn't say anything, but blew out through pursed lips. The barkeep filled them up. She leaned over and whispered to Gordon, "The drunks are enjoying our find, vicariously." Her voice was rough from the liquor.

  "That's one," he whispered back.

  "To lost comrades," Gordon said aloud, next round, "my man Jack."

  "To Dad," Lee said and the barkeeper looked shocked.

  Down the bar the Hinth looked straight at them rudely and hissed. His crest stood up and flared, displaying colors they didn't know he had. "I, Ha-bob-bob-brie share your mourning little human," he said in passable English. "I too know what it is to lose family and shipmates." Gordon and the bartender were frozen in shock, but Lee put her chin in her palm, looking at him through spread fingers and said, "Thank you Ha-bob-bob-brie, Lee Anderson thanks you. I mourn that you have suffered such loss too," and she bobbed her head in almost a little bow.

  The Hinth made a gesture palm down and tried awkwardly to imitate Lee's bow. "No need to cloak your face among those who know your name, Lee Anderson." That seemed to satisfy him and he looked back down at his glass almost embarrassed.

  "Was that passable manners?" Gordon asked the bartender, worried about offense.

  "Damned if I know," The bartender admitted. "He seems happy with her, which is a first too. That's more than he has said sitting there the last two years. I didn't even know he spoke Standard. I was told Hinth don't share their name with anybody, so I guess she really hit a nerve to pull such a speech out of him."

  Next round the barkeeper barely tipped any in Lee's glass looking concerned. He'd seen a round of salutes to fallen friends go sixteen rounds and he didn't know how many Gordon intended. It took some time to walk down to the Hinth and get a round set.

  "To lost crewmates," Gordon said, "my lady Myrtle." Then he looked around and there wasn't any place safe to throw the glass so he dropped it on the floor and stomped on it. The Hinth didn't look up or say anything, so apparently he'd got it all out of his system.

  They missed Lee's tearful salute and that she muttered a bad word she hardly ever thought, much less used. She slipped the glass in her pocket.

  "Give me your broom and I'll clean up," Gordon offered.

  "Get outta here. I pay the rummy to do that."

  Gordon pushed a five hundred EuroMark note across the counter and the barkeeper pushed it back. "We're not so low yet we take money for a service."

  "The owner might not feel that way," Gordon pointed out.

  "Yeah, well, guess I forgot to mention that's me. I might have took it if you'd hit me shift-change on station payday, with the place packed," he winked.

  Lee was having a little trouble. She had a hand over her mouth and looked a little spacey. Suddenly she pushed back from the bar unsteady and let out a little moan, distressed.

  "Turn left in the kitchen," the bartender pointed. "Hurry," he urged her. She took off urgently.

  "Damnedest thing I ever did see," he told Gordon, amazed, "for a dainty little Earth girl like that to make port, hang her rings, drink to her comrades, make the Hinth talk and puke her guts out. I'd have never believed such a story and a Greenie no less."

  * * *

  The broth was helping Lee visibly. She took little sips on the spoon and an occasional bite of salty cracker. The coffee shop was back down several decks, in a lot nicer area than the bar. At her age she recovered fast and she'd lost the vile stuff before she could really absorb that much. The corned beef was so greasy it might have come up all on its own. She still had the shot glass in a pocket and had forgotten about it. Her mother wouldn't have been impressed with it as a keepsake.

  "Let's go shopping now, Uncle Gordon."

  "You sure? You don't want to sit for awhile?"

  "Nah, I'm good. Let's find something to wear before we run out of time."

  "OK," he said and chugged the rest of the bowl himself. It was Derf sized, so she hadn't made much of a dent in three liters.

  "I think I understand that ceremony now," she told him.

  "Really? I'm not sure I understand it myself, so what's your take on it?"

  "You survive and feel guilty for it and it made you rich so you feel even worse, 'cause the money is not worth the ones you lost. Then you feel so sad about it you don't think you can ever get over it and you think you should just die. But you sit there and drink that stuff and pretty soon you realize you can feel worse and you get to where you really do want to die on the spot. Then you are on your knees in a filthy bar crapper, puking in a Derf size commode. If you can get past that, just the normal mourning is something you can deal with."

  "I think you're wise beyond your years, Lee."

  Chapter 7

  They ducked into a small store that sold medical supplies and sundries. Lee needed a comb and they both needed paper hankies and wet wipes. Gordon made Lee buy sheer shrink gloves. Most people wore them in public areas to avoid disease and they were cheap and almost comfortable enough to forget they were there, being ultra thin and breathable. They bought disposable spex with prepaid com access, that would work below as well as on station.

  Gordon put his spex away, but Lee wore hers set clear, the same as quite a few people in the corridors choose to. Gordon got some cinnamon breath mints and Lee felt better with a couple food bars in her pocket in case they delayed a meal sometime. Gordon swore they'd outfit more below.

  No retailer on the hab carried precut children's clothing. There simply wasn't enough retail traffic in her age bracket to tie up the shelf space, or stock it. That left the option of custom cut, which was fine as long as it was robotic sewn, so she could wear it today. Neither Lee nor Gordon had any idea what current fashions were like for children, but the suggestions from the sales staff seemed silly and unlikely. They ended up with more adult looking clothing instead of cute. They bough
t six outfits to carry them over until they could find more.

  "We'll get you some more things when we get to Earth," Gordon promised. She'd refused all skirts, but loved the sturdier cut of a kilt when shown one and accepted a couple with hose and accessories. She drew the line at the formal shoes though. Other things better reflected her idea of what to wear on a planet. Canvas cargo pants and a safari jacket looked practical to her.

  The outfit she wore for the banker didn't look quite so 'bushy' - black wool slacks with a leather belt, white silk blouse with a collar and a gray cardigan with silver buttons and pockets. Soft fake suede over-the-ankle boots and a gray beret to match the sweater completed the outfit. They had to make the boots twice, because the program wasn't set to allow for socks. It all looked very nice, but not very girlish. The rest of the clothing went to their hotel room by courier when they left for the bank.

  Lee looked a lot better now. She'd looked a bit rumpled when she came in from the service. The clothier's rest room gave her opportunity to wash her face and make herself presentable before they went to the bank.

  "Why did you say the Hinth didn't like Derf?" Lee asked as they walked along. "You don't know that Hinth do you? I mean, can you even tell them apart?"

  "No, I've never known any Hinth, until this one, but I haven't heard of one yet that didn't hate our guts."

  "Why? They were on just one world like Derf, right? So few Hinth or Derf travel around in Human space, they must hardly ever see each other. Was there some big conflict that they hold a grudge?"

  "Remember Commander Richards made an agreement with the Derf that they were to be treated as equals in every way?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well the Hinth didn't get as good a deal. They had some legends about sky gods and when Earthies showed up they fell all over themselves giving the store away. Their priests more or less said - 'Tell us what to do Oh Great Sky Gods.' Well the Earthies didn't have to be begged too hard to do just that. Their whole world now is a protectorate. What that means is they have a human governor appointed, who can veto anything their Emperor decides with no appeal," Gordon said.

  "They make a big fuss about what independence they do have and to read their news you'd think they discovered the humans instead of the other way around. But they can't stop their internal bickering long enough to right the situation and demand their sovereignty back."

  "They are described by the exo-sociologists as childish and delusional, because they pretty much have to profess belief in the creation legends and fatalism that their racial religion puts forth in their public life. It isn't anything that's much different from what a human Baptist or Sunni is technically supposed to believe, but they have the sort of controlling society where they have to constantly make public pledges of belief in fate and predestination, to get or keep a job, have a mate offered, or get licensed to reproduce."

  "Belief in predestination doesn't go well with using spaceships. I mean - if you really believe it - then it doesn't matter what the service intervals are - it's going to crash when it's fated. But humans don't ask their own service techs if they have screwy beliefs before they will train them to service transluminal drives. I can find Muslims and Baptists who are service techs with no problem but humans have an amazing ability to compartmentalize their private and public beliefs, they don't grant others can. It's a form of discrimination really."

  "So, do they have any kind of a program going to change that?"

  "Huh! And lose control of a whole world and admit another race to compete with the others in the markets? Dream on. Official word is, if the Hinth decide to change from within that is fine, but forcing it on them would be cultural genocide. So if some Hinth college professor publishes his class schedule and doesn't tack on, 'Gods willing,' and refuses to edit it, he finds himself with no job, his wife has gone home to her parents and the city takes his house back by the time he goes home for supper. One person rebelling here and there can't change a whole world. They'd have to form a huge conspiracy to take the system down."

  "What would happen to your college professor Gordon?"

  "He could get a cup out of the trash and sit in the train station begging for a living. Or publicly recant his error and yank a bunch of his tail feathers out to show he means it. Custom is to staple a few of them to his letter of apology. Then they might give him a job scrubbing floors, or trimming bushes at his old college, or he can go way up on a high building and jump, being flightless. He could go off world and reject his society, but the human overlords have to pass on all the Hinth who get an interstellar passport and they only issue a few hundred a year. They tend to give them to businessmen who will buy stuff, not dissidents."

  "None of that sounds like the fault of the Derf."

  "No, but they welcomed Man like gods and got treated like crap. We put the ax to them and then we are the only race legally entitled to be treated as full equals. It doesn't seem fair to them. Derfhome is the only world where humans are required to follow local law. They have an agricultural society, so they had a lot more population. They had big cities and a lot more of an economy. So they figure they are more advanced socially than Derf with territorial tribalism and it grates. They don't count it for anything Derf had better science and personal freedoms. No way can I count their attitude with us as anything but plain old jealousy."

  "I didn't realize none of the other races were counted legal equals. Of course I'd never seen another one of them until today. You have to tell me more about them in my lessons before we get to Earth."

  "You won't get to see the Elves or the Beavers unless you go to their worlds," he said using the slang names for the other two races. "Very few have ever gone to Earth and they don't travel around to other places. We'll play the tourist but you do need your lessons still. There's so much to show you, but I want our claims filed too. Just because we have time to file doesn't mean we should take it all. If I had the winning lotto ticket I wouldn't wait a year less a day to cash it either. Something might happen."

  Chapter 8

  The Discount Bank of Jerusalem and Credit Suisse - Ganymede at Derfhome, said the carved and gilded letters in the facade.

  "Mr. Gordon and Miss Anderson," Uncle Gordon told the human receptionist. There were couches, but he didn't sit or tell Lee to sit. They were on time so he expected to be shown in.

  "Mr. Christopher is tied up on a call," the young man informed him. "Have a seat please and I'll call you when he's free."

  "We've always dealt with Glen Sherman. Is he on holiday or something? We'll be around for a couple weeks if you need to reschedule. I'd rather discuss some of our issues with him."

  "Mr. Sherman is retired. The bank has a mandatory retirement age of seventy and he was pensioned a few months ago. We had a rather nice party for him, with cake and they gave him a gold ring engraved with the company crest.

  Gordon gave a little cough that was his natural chuckle. "I've just hit seventy, I guess you'd have to pension me off, even if I'm barely hitting middle age."

  The receptionist got that smiling, crinkled eyed look, like he was going to crack a joke, then visibly restrained himself, looking over his shoulder like he was afraid somebody would overhear him. "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Christopher about that. It should be interesting." Both of them got the sudden feeling the fellow wasn't all that close with his new boss.

  Fifteen minutes slowly turned into thirty and Gordon was getting upset, although it took someone as familiar with him as Lee to be able to discern it. Instead of getting fidgety, he was turning into a statue. When he stopped blinking it would be time to defuse the situation. About the time Lee figured he'd ask to reschedule, the receptionist got a call on his com and escorted them in. Gordon's good mood was definitely dinged, if not gone.

  Mr. Christopher was seated behind a clean desk. There was a single open file of hard copy on top and a few pages spread out.

  "Mr. Gordon, Miss Lee I assume. I've been reading your company file with the bank. Where are Mr.
and Mrs. Anderson? I'm surprised they're not here themselves."

  "Lee's parents are dead by misadventure on our last exploration. You'll be able to get the details on public com when they release the report, but we've only been in two days. We are the survivors and I am here at Derfhome to go through the formality of adopting Lee as my daughter, with my clan on planet. So I can speak for her too under Derf law, with her acquiescence. Did Jack and Myrtle have copies of their will in your documents, to tell you what would happen in the event of their death? If not I have electronic copies with me."

  "No, that won't be necessary. I have them right here. They seem quite short, so let me just skim them quickly and we can talk." He said, throwing a halting hand up, palm to Gordon's face to forestall him from speaking.

  He shuffled back through the documents and pulled two sheets out. He didn't offer them any refreshment, any more than he'd asked them to be seated, Gordon had simply sat without invitation and Lee had followed his example.

  "Yes," He said after a few minutes. "You are correct. Miss Lee is their heir and you are the senior surviving partner, although technically the junior by stake. So all the royalty payments on your patents will continue as before and the bank of course will take their five percent. There is no need for any action or paper work on those matters, except a note in the files."

  There was also no expression of regret or condolences to their daughter, or sign the man had any more personality than the corporate paper weight on his desk.

  "In a way that makes what I am required to tell you somewhat easier. Mr. Sherman, with who you dealt before, retired. When he retired the Exploration Funding Department ceased to exist also, as I have been urging for some time. My position with the Bank is writing business financing and since they are superficially similar, I was given the additional duty of closing out these accounts as the vessels come back in and contact us."