Araminta Station

by Jack Vance

  “Ah, little do you know! That mind was smashed into twittering little gobbets; they fly blindly back and forth through my head like bats in a dark room. I find them a source of annoyance, since another mind is now in charge, and the annoyances will be” - here Kirdy pinched his thumb and forefinger together – “so. And thus . . .” Kirdy stopped short.

  “And thus what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do you want advice?”

  “I will listen, whether I want it or not. I thereby learn!” Kirdy gave Glawen a knowing leer. “Advise on, Glawen! Let us learn how you would assist me in my career.”

  “First, why be in such a hurry to expunge your old mind? Maybe it will join together again. Second –”

  “I already know the second. Stay at home. Rest, enjoy life, read some amusing books. Let Glawen advance his career in peace.”

  “Call it what you like, but the facts are real. We cannot work together if every time I turn my back you pick up an ax. That makes for uncomfortable conditions.”

  Kirdy considered. “Only from your point of view.”

  “But you fail to grasp the central point! You have no reason for this attitude!”

  Kirdy looked off across the rotunda and spoke in boredom: “Oh, I have reason! Several reasons! Many reasons! You will never know them! Perhaps they could not be put into words! Perhaps they are even irrational. If so, who cares? I feel them, nonetheless.”

  “If you recognize these reasons as irrational, can you put them aside?”

  “If necessary.”

  “Do you agree that it is necessary?”

  “I will give the matter thought . . . Where are you going?”

  “Back up to Bodwyn Wook’s office.”

  “I will come with you.”

  Hilda wordlessly ushered the two back into the inner office. Bodwyn Wook looked up in irritation. “What is it now?”

  “This situation is impossible,” said Glawen. “Kirdy is not in good mental health! He won’t even promise not to kill me!”

  “Of course he won’t!” snapped Bodwyn Wook. “Why should he? Have I promised not to kill you? Has Hilda? Has anyone? You are on the verge of hysteria!”

  Glawen strove to keep his voice calm. “Let me put it this way. A team cannot function if its members do not trust each other. Kirdy is not sane and I don’t see how I can work with him.”

  Bodwyn Wook turned to Kirdy: “Let us settle this once and for all. Are you sane or not?”

  “I consider myself sane.”

  “Can you work with Glawen?”

  “The question more properly should be: ‘Can he work with me?’”

  Glawen started to speak but Bodwyn Wook waved his arms high in the air. “Glawen, you may go! I will talk to Kirdy and put this affair into perspective. Not another word! I will see you in the morning.”

  Glawen marched from the room, through the outer office and down the stairs. In the rotunda he walked back and forth, inclining first toward one desperate plan, then another. At last, cursing under his breath, he went into the travel office and picked up his vouchers for passage aboard the Sagittarian Ray.

  During the evening he kept his problems to himself, and Scharde asked no questions. In the morning, Glawen walked down to the Bureau B offices and along the way met Kirdy, turned out in a spanking-new Bureau B uniform, with the captain’s red piping prominent. Kirdy looked Glawen up and down in disfavor. “Why are you not in uniform?”

  “Because I don’t choose to be, and because it is not at all appropriate to the mission.”

  “That is not for you, but for me, to determine.” Kirdy turned away and strode off to the Bureau B offices, with Glawen coming behind more slowly.

  Arriving at Bureau B, Glawen reported to Hilda, who placed a folder containing his documents in front of him. Glawen glanced through them; all seemed in order. “Now, then, where is my money?”

  With hands trembling in reluctance, Hilda tendered him a packet. “Count the contents. You will find a thousand sols. It is a great deal of money. Be very careful with it; you will be issued no further sums.”

  Glawen counted the money, tucked documents and packet into the inner pocket of his jacket. Hilda watched with cold amusement. “If you carry your money in that pocket, it will be stolen immediately. Have the seamstress sew pockets on the inside of your trouser legs. This is where you should carry your funds.”

  “These pockets are already in place, but I delayed using them,” said Glawen. “I feared that removing my trousers in your presence might offend you.”

  “Pish,” sneered Hilda. “What do I care, one way or the other?” She jerked her head toward the inner office. “You may go in; the Supervisor is expecting you.”

  Glawen went through the door to find Bodwyn Wook standing by the window. “Sir, it is I, Glawen.”

  Bodwyn Wook turned and slowly came to his desk. He seated himself and at last deigned to take note of Glawen. “You are ready to go?”

  Glawen looked at him sharply; was he mistaken, or did Bodwyn Wook’s demeanor seem constrained? Glawen said firmly: “No, sir. I am not ready to go. I can only reiterate that Kirdy is incapable of conducting sensitive work. I just met him dressed in a new uniform, advertising to all the Reach that he is employed by Bureau B. What is worse, he chided me for being out of uniform.”

  “Ah yes! Poor Kirdy is perhaps a trifle distrait. I rely on your sturdy common sense to even the balance. You have received your documents? And your money? Also your rectification pills?”

  “I picked up a kit at the pharmacy.”

  “Throw away the stuff called Erythrist; it’s useless, especially against Soumian itch. They’ll give you a specific at the Soum spaceport; you’ll get it as you pass through the wicket. So then: you are all ready.”

  Glawen began to feel desperate. “Sir, I cannot work with Kirdy under present conditions.”

  “Come, now, Glawen! We must take the long view. The experience will not only help Kirdy but may well expand your own capacities.”

  “What, then, is my mission? To investigate the Thurben Island case or to provide therapy for Kirdy?”

  Bodwyn Wook’s voice sharpened. “Come, Glawen! Your anxieties are fast becoming tiresome. Does your question truly need an answer?”

  “I’m sorry to annoy you, sir, but perhaps it can’t be helped. Does Kirdy carry his own money?”

  “He has been issued a substantial sum.”

  “How much, exactly?”

  “Two thousand sols, if you must know. It is a great deal of money, but bribes might be necessary.”

  “But I was issued only a thousand sols.”

  “That should be sufficient.”

  “You have made it absolutely clear that I am in charge?”

  “Well - I believe that was more or less implicit.”

  Glawen heaved a deep breath. “Be good enough to write me an exact definition of my authority, stating that Kirdy must obey my orders in every detail.”

  Bodwyn Wook performed a small airy gesture. “In this business we must deal with practicalities. I left the subject of authority a trifle vague. As you know, I want to augment Kirdy’s self-esteem in every possible way. In fact, I might even have hinted that he was in charge of the operation.”

  Glawen threw documents and money down on the desk. “In that case, my presence can only have an adverse effect upon the mission. The effort Kirby puts in trying to murder me, and my efforts trying to avoid death, are both counterproductive. With enormous relief I definitely withdraw from the operation.”

  Bodwyn Wook’s eyes snapped with anger. “You are singing a brassy song! I advise you to moderate your legato.”

  “Even better, I shall do my singing elsewhere. I bid you good day.” Glawen bowed and strode furiously for the door. In a sullen voice Bodwyn Wook called out: “Come back here! Can’t you take a joke? You are as humorless as Hilda. You shall have your memorandum.”

  “I want much more than that. You must clearly inform Kirdy
of my authority, and you must reduce his rank to sergeant.”

  “I can’t do that! I have already confirmed the appointment.”

  “Explain that you have made a mistake. Further, I will take custody of his two thousand sols. He shall carry only a hundred sols pocket money. Next, instruct him to change from his uniform into less conspicuous clothes.”

  “All this is impossible! The ship leaves in an hour!”

  “There is time. If necessary, the ship can wait. In any case I will not be aboard unless I am relieved of Kirdy’s therapy. I would a thousand times prefer to go alone.”

  Bodwyn Wook shook his head. “You are a willful young devil! If insolence were bricks and insubordination mortar you could build a great palace for yourself.”

  “Not so, sir! You would never have given in so easily if I were not right!”

  Bodwyn Wook laughed. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze your supervisor; that is the most flagrant act of all! Hilda! Where is Kirdy?”

  “Here in the outer office.”

  “Send him in.”

  Kirdy entered the office. Bodwyn Wook rose to his feet. “I tried to handle this affair by mishandling it. I was wrong, and now I must put things right. There is no animus in my judgment; I am fond of both of you. But there can be a single commander to any operation, and it will be Glawen. Kirdy, you will obey Glawen in all lawful orders. I must reduce your rank to sergeant, temporarily, I hope, and you must change from the uniform, since essentially this is a secret investigation. If you have grievances against Glawen, you must here and now put them aside, or resign from the mission. What is it to be?”

  Kirdy shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  “I will take that to signify acquiescence. Finally, I will take custody of the money Hilda issued to you this morning.”

  Kirdy stood motionless, his face white, only his eyes alive. Slowly he reached into his pocket, brought out the packet of money and placed it upon the table.

  Bodwyn Wook said: “You must not consider this a defeat or a setback; your career is open before you. What have you to say?”

  “I have heard your commands.”

  “Will you try to work on amicable terms with Glawen?”

  “I will work with him, for the good of Araminta Station. My feelings are my own.”

  Glawen said: “You are certainly not the ideal associate, but it seems that we must work together. Let us be altogether forthright. You are now convalescent but you still suffer a disability which you described to me yesterday. Will not this disability make full cooperation difficult for you?”

  Kirdy stood silent. Bodwyn Wook and Glawen stared at him, as did Hilda from the back of the room, all prepared for the qualified or ambiguous reply which would irrevocably remove Kirby from the operation.

  Kirdy said tonelessly: “Yes. We shall work together.”

  Glawen spoke curtly: “Then go change into ordinary clothes and go directly to the spaceport. I’ll see you aboard the ship.”

  Kirdy departed. Glawen waited ten seconds, then came forward, took the money from the table. “We will do our best.” He left the room.

  Bodwyn Wook sighed. “Clattuc or not, he’s got plenty of good Wook blood in him. I truly admire that proud young rascal. He’s quick-minded and hard as nails, but there’s a sweetness about him that makes all right. I could wish he were my own son.”

  Hilda gave a soft snort. “I’m long past the age of wishing. Still, once in a while, I wish. If there had been a Glawen when I was young, things might have gone

  differently for me.”

  * * *

  Chapter VII

  * * *

  Chapter VII, Part 1

  Glawen, stepping up into the hulk of the Sagittarian Ray, felt a pleasant excitement; never before had he traveled off-world. Kirdy, on the other hand, had toured far and wide with Floreste’s Mummers, up and down Mircea’s Wisp. The worlds of the present itinerary, Natrice, Soum and Tassadero, were of no novelty to Kirdy, and his mood, as he boarded the spaceship, was glum. Several times he paused to look back over his shoulder as if ready to abandon the entire venture.

  A steward conducted the two to their cabins. Glawen delayed only long enough to slide his luggage into a rack and hang up his cloak, then went out upon the promenade, which gave him a view of the spaceport observation deck. There stood his father and Bodwyn Wook, who had come to see them off and to issue final instructions. Bodwyn Wook had been emphatic on several points: “Never mind that you are a Clattuc and snort fire through your nostrils! This is a delicate case and wants delicate handling. Neither curt language nor sarcasm speeds the efficiency of off-world police; they have not had your advantages, so deal with them gently. In fact, obey all local laws, whether you understand them or not! You are Bureau B agents, with IPCC affiliation, but local police often neglect such niceties.”

  Scharde augmented Bodwyn Wook’s remarks. “On Tassadero you will wear local clothes as a matter of convenience. Hawkers will meet you at the spaceport, and urge you to buy from their barrows. Despite their outcries, insults and ridicule, wait till you arrive in Fexelburg, then go to a shop with posted prices. Otherwise, you will be swindled. The spirit of Zab Zonk the Pirate survives in many forms on Tassadero.”

  Bodwyn Wook issued a further warning: “Avoid politics everywhere! The factions are particularly angry on Natrice, which will be your first stop. There is little chance that you could become embroiled; still, guard your opinions!”

  “I hope I can keep all this straight,” said Glawen. “On Natrice, avoid politics. on Tassadero, dress to the fashion, but do not be swindled. What should we fear on Soum?”

  “Marriage,” said Scharde. “If you take a girl to bed, insist that she first sign a specific repudiation of marital intent. These forms are available at kiosks and sweetshops.”

  “I suggest that you go aboard,” said Bodwyn Wook. “The ship might leave while you stand here listening to our final instructions.”

  Standing by a window along the promenade, Glawen waved toward Scharde and Bodwyn Wook, but they failed to see him. Glawen swallowed the lump in his throat and pretended that he felt no forebodings or fears.

  A few late arrivals came running from the terminal and thankfully boarded the ship. Imminence grew heavy in the air. A chime sounded. Glawen felt the dull impact of ports thudding shut. A thin whine from no apparent source rose in pitch and passed beyond audibility. Without sensible acceleration the ship rose from the soil of Cadwal into the sky.

  Glawen looked along the promenade. Kirdy was nowhere to be seen. Glawen turned back to the outside view. Kirdy had known terrible events, and deserved whatever compassion as might conveniently and practically be extended.

  Cadwal became a ball, bright in the lemon-white shine of Syrene. Far to the south Throy was a black-green wedge. Glawen tried to find the site of Stroma, without success. Wistful thoughts of Wayness entered his mind; when would he see her again? And what would she have to tell him?

  Kirdy came slouching along the promenade, face somber, eyes unfocused. Glawen saw that he would walk wordlessly past. Despite his previous pang of sympathy, he was now a trifle nettled. He called out: “Kirdy! Over here! Look at me! I’m Glawen!”

  Kirdy halted, pondered a moment, then joined Glawen by the window.

  “Let me propound a syllogism,” said Glawen. “The world is real. I am part of the world. Hence I am real.”

  Kirdy reflected. “I am not sure that the logic is totally rigorous. You should have phrased the first premise thus: ‘The world is made of real parts.’ Or: ‘Every part of the world is real. And next: I am one of these parts.’ In the latter case you leave unresolved the question as to whether an aggregation of real parts necessarily constitutes a real whole.”

  “I’ll give the matter some thought,” said Glawen. “Meanwhile, you and I are both aboard the ship. We cannot avoid each other - at least not altogether. These are the facts.”

  Kirdy only shrugged and looked off along the promenade.

/>   With great politeness Glawen asked: “Do you still enjoy the view? I suppose you have seen it many times.”

  Kirdy glanced out the window, as if only just now taking note of the spectacle. “As you say, I’ve seen it before. It doesn’t change much. Sometimes Lorca and Sing hang out there like a pair of carrion birds, sometimes not. Floreste never liked to see them; he thought they brought bad luck. He had dozens of such quirks and fancies, which we ignored at our risk.”

  Glawen asked: “How long were you with the Mummers?”

  “Seven years. I started when I was ten. I was one of the original Tumble-bugs.”

  “It must have been a great adventure.”

  Kirdy grunted. “Floreste kept us hard at it. Half the time we never knew where we were, although we usually made the same run: Natrice, Soum, sometimes out to Protagne or Tassadero or New Calvary, or even Mildred’s Blue World, then back to the Wisp and Old Lumas, and once or twice down to Caffin’s World. We never went much farther.”

  “Why was that?”

  “We’d go as far as Floreste could promote cheap transportation; he’s an avaricious old devil - not for himself, mind you, but for his new Orpheum.”

  “Which of these worlds did you like the best?”

  Kirdy replied in a measured monotone. “Floreste fed us better on Soum. Natrice was dull and very moral, especially out along the Lanklands, where food was the worst. We were served cakes of shredded nettles and a sour black lizard soup. The only sweets were shriveled little pellets like raisins, which I learned were dried insects. Floreste would only go to the Lanklands when he couldn’t fill our schedule in Poinciana or Halcyon or Summer City. The Sanart Scientists have a law which bars heterosexual pageants to heterosexual audiences. Floreste ignored the law but no one bothered him, since his shows were so innocent, particularly among the Sanart Scientists.”

  Sanart Scientists?” Illumination came to Glawen’s mind. “So that’s where the ‘SS.’ in front of names comes from.”

  “They’re all SS. this or SS. that,” said Kirdy. “It’s a mark of dignity.”