Araminta Station (33 page)

NEVER ATTEMPT TO CHEAT OR SHORT-CHANGE
, even as a joke. You might suffer a harsh penalty.
PAY
. This one word has eased a multitude of people through difficulties. If you think a Yip is overcharging, or mulcting you, take revenge in this fashion: wait till he visits you in your community, then overcharge him. This is a classical expedient, known across the ages.

SEXUAL MORALITY DIFFERS FROM YOUR OWN
. This is safe to say, no matter how particular, or idiosyncratic, are your own preferences. Fornication is a casual act, with no emotional envelope. What you may consider apathy is usually simple disinterest or even boredom. Like any other service, it is priced according to an exact schedule. These schedules, incidentally, make amusing souvenirs; they are for sale at three sols
*
per copy. This may seem exorbitant, but shrewd old Titus Pompo charges what the market will bear.

Question:
Is Yipton dangerous for the tourist?

Answer:
Not at all, if he obeys the rules.

Question:
What are some rules, other than those outlined above?

Answer:

RULE
: Do not wander at random. Almost certainly you will get lost. At worst you will never be seen again - though this is the extreme case. Keep to those ways and canals marked on the attached chart. Even better: hire a guide.

RULE
: Accept nothing, neither goods nor services, without first inquiring and settling upon a price. To reiterate, nothing is free. Find out the price first!

RULE
: Do not try to become friendly with any Yip, male or female. Your efforts will be in vain. Yips tolerate outsiders only because they bring in money. Their natural feelings toward you are a mild but definite detestation. Do not be deceived by politeness; it is a social lubricant. You might as well respond in kind, though the Yips will not particularly mind if you are cross. Complaints are not worth the breath it takes to utter them. If you are really annoyed about something, write the Oomphaw a letter.

RULE
: Never, never, never go down upon the floor of the
Caglioro
(the Pot). You will lose all your possessions, including your clothes to the last stitch. If you resist you will be injured.

RULE
: Confine your drinking of wines, punches, beer and so forth to the hotel. It is advisable to eat only what is served at the hotel, for a variety of reasons.

RULE
: Never interfere in any Yip activity. The Yips live by their own rules which seem to serve them fairly well.

RULE
: Never touch, caress, stroke, pat or hug a Yip in an idle or casual manner. He or she strongly objects to such contact. Above all, do not strike a Yip; no one will protect you from his response. This applies to man or woman alike; the Yip knows no gallantry nor special concern for the female. To the contrary.

RULE
: Should you visit that section known as Pussycat Palace, it is wise to go with a guide from the hotel, who is paid to ensure that you do not come to grief, though the experienced person may go alone in perfect safety.

IN BRIEF
: Be cautious! Attempt no reckless acts of individualistic enterprise.

Question:
Do the Yips have a sense of humor?

Answer:
No, Not in a sense you would understand.

Question:
Are the Yips human?

Answer:
This is a subject of ongoing controversy. The answer would seem to be: he is not a true Gaean. It is probable that the Yips form a new and superior species of
Homo sapiens terrestrialis.

THE CHIFE
: No mention of Yipton is complete without reference to the Big Chife. At first contact, you will be amazed and appalled. Gradually the impact diminishes. The influence permeates your clothes and lingers, finally attenuating to an almost pleasant musky intimation. This can be considered another souvenir of Yipton. Unlike almost everything else, it is free.

We hope these brief remarks will help you enjoy yourself to the fullest!

*
The value of the sol is fixed at the worth of one hour of unskilled labor, under standard conditions.

Glawen looked up from the pamphlet, to find the
Faraz
drifting away from the dock. The Bold Lions, so he noted, sat at a table in the main saloon with flasks of wine in front of them; Kiper already showed signs of jocundity. Kirdy, who hated the ocean and felt an almost obsessive dread of deep water, sat in a corner where he would not be forced to look out over the sea.

Glawen remained at the rail, watching the familiar contours of Araminta Station receding across the water. On knife-edge keels the
Faraz
sliced into the northeast, cutting narrow furrows into the face of the transparent dark blue sea.

Glawen went to the forward observation lounge, where he sat considering his mission. The Bold Lions had put no definite term on the excursion; most talked in terms of three days, though wondered if the resources of Pussycat Palace could be exploited in anything less than five days. If all went well, three days might be adequate to learning what they wished to know. Still, soft and easy were the guiding words, and he must make sure that Kirdy fully subscribed to this doctrine.

Almost as if awaiting his cue, Kirdy dropped into the seat beside him, with his back to the observation windows, so that he was not obliged to look at the sea. “So here you are! I wondered if you had fallen overboard.” He grimaced and risked a glance over his shoulder. “Horrible thought!”

“No, I’m still aboard.”

“You should be in the saloon with the others,” said Kirdy, using the chiding tone he tended to take with Glawen. “It’s no mystery why you’re not popular. You act as if you consider yourself a superior being.”

From time to time Glawen suspected that Kirdy did not like him much. He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Better to say, I act as if I prefer to avoid Arles’ insults.”

“Still, it’s only decent to be diplomatic.”

“It makes no great difference, one way or the other.”

“Wrong!” declared Kirdy. “The Bold Lions are supposed to be your cover.”

“It’s far more placid here. Kiper has been drinking, which means growls and roars.”

Kirdy gave his head a dour shake. “He wanted three great roars for Pussycat Palace, but the lounge steward told him to quiet down, and he’s been out of sorts ever since.”

“Oh, very well,” said Glawen. “I suppose it’s proper tactics to join them.”

“One moment,” said Kirdy. “There’s something we must discuss.” He frowned and turned his round blue eyes toward the ceiling. “In regard to this mission, I conferred with the Supervisor yesterday. He emphasized that we must work together as a team.”

Glawen heaved a sigh. At times Kirdy could be most tiresome. He wondered how best to detach himself from a close association. He said: “I’ve had rather definite instructions myself, and -”

“These instructions have been superseded.” Kirdy turned his bright blue gaze on Glawen. “It’s been decided that, since I have an edge on you in both seniority and experience, I should be in command of the mission.”

Glawen sat stock-still for a long ten seconds. “I have not been notified of this.”

“I’m notifying you now,” snapped Kirdy. “That should be sufficient. Do you believe me or not? We’d better have an understanding here and now.”

“Oh, I believe you well enough,” said Glawen. “Only -”

“Only what?”

“I should think that Bodwyn Wook would have notified me in person.”

“Well, he told me and that should be quite enough. If you don’t like it, complain when we get back. If the truth be known, Glawen, this is exactly what is wrong with you in a professional sense. You think too much. For instance, let’s say that there’s a pile of something nasty in the walk and you’ve been ordered to remove it.

Well, you’d dither and sniff and wonder whether to use a shovel or a shingle, and meanwhile an old lady comes along and steps in it. I don’t wish to be unkind but that’s the sort of thing we’ve got to avoid, in favor of decisive leadership. I pointed this out to Bodwyn Wook and he agreed in every respect. So that’s how it is. Perhaps I’m coming on a bit stronger than might be tactful, but in an operation like this, there can’t be any slipups.”

“I see. What were your precise instructions?”

Kirdy said in a measured voice: “I was told that you had what information we would need. You might as well brief me now.”

“You’ve memorized the map of Yipton?”

“What map?”

“This.”

Kirdy took the map and examined it. His mouth drooped in distaste. “What a mess. I’ll look it over after a bit.”

“It’s to be destroyed before we go ashore. Notice this gray outline?”

“What of it?”

“That’s the area we’re supposed to investigate.”

“And what are these other markings?”

“This is the dock and this is the hotel.”

Kirdy studied the map. “The gray area seems to be down the dock from the hotel.”

“Correct.”

“And what exactly are we looking for?”

“I guess we’ll know when we see it.”

“Hmf. It’s rather a disorganized way of handling an operation of this sort.”

“As I understand it, we’re supposed to do the best we can without taking chances.”

“That’s my own appraisal of the situation. I don’t see any great tactical challenge. This road runs right past the structure, and we’re sure to find clues everywhere.”

“If you say so.”

“Of course I say so. Let’s go join the others.”

“And the map?”

“I’ll take care of it for now. Have you any other papers I should have?”

“No.”

Early in the afternoon fishing boats appeared: light craft little more than rafts formed of bundled bamboo poles, lashed into the shape of a boat; and larger vessels with hulls of laminated bamboo strips. At the same time a smudge appeared on the northeast horizon, which in due course became, first, a floating crust, then a line of rickety structures among tufts of bamboo and coconut palms. At this time the first intimation of the Big Chife reached the
Faraz
, and passengers looked from one to the other with bemused expressions.

The
Faraz
approached the atoll: once the crater and surrounding rim of a volcano, now a circlet of a dozen sickle-shaped islands around a shallow lagoon.

The seaward aspect of Yipton focused into detail. The structures, of two, three, four and five spindly stories, standing on frail-seeming poles, leaned against each other for support, with porches and balconies cantilevered out in unlikely directions.

Colors were muted: black, rust, the gray-green of old bamboo, a hundred tones of brown. On the breeze came a new waft of the Big Chife, causing another stir among the passengers.

The ferry slowed, settled lunging and surging into the water, veered behind a breakwater of lashed bamboo poles, drifted across the harbor and up to the dock. The Big Chife, no longer thinned by the breeze, attained full force.

On a choice area at the back of the dock, the Arkady Inn rose five rambling irregular stories to overlook harbor, breakwater and the sea beyond. The ground floor opened upon a terrace with tables shaded under pink and pale green parasols. Patrons of the hotel sat at their lunch while watching the activities of the harbor, apparently oblivious to the Chife, as indeed they were, and the incoming tourists felt somewhat more hopeful. The folk on the terrace seemed jovial and quite relaxed. Unless appearances deceived, the admonitions of the blue pamphlet could not be enforced so severely as to cause terror and apprehension or perhaps, as a gaunt gentleman in a Byronish pillow hat nervously suggested, these happy patrons were those who had paid, and paid, and paid, and as a consequence felt no fear.

Boats plied the harbor, moving in and out of canals; putting out to sea, or returning; or simply floating while the crew cleaned fish, shelled molluscs or repaired their gear. Along the shore bamboo grew like jets of greenery, sixty feet tall, while coconut palms, rooted in minute plots of soil, leaned out over the canals. In boxes on the balconies grew potherbs and greens; jardinières trailed blue fronds and rose-pink tockberries.

The passengers from the
Faraz
fired across a gangplank of squeaking bamboo poles to the dock, through a gate and past a wicket manned by a pair of Oomps.
²
One Oomp stood watching faces with grave attention; the other collected a landing fee of three sols from each arrival. With bland expressions, they both ignored the grumbling and complaints.

The Bold Lions paid over their fees with disdainful flourishes, in a manner of
noblesse oblige
, which Glawen preferred not to emulate. Then all walked up the flight of broad stairs to the hotel.

At the registration desk Arles stepped forward: “We are the Bold Lions! There will be eight rooms reserved for us.”