Araminta Station (6 page)

“Tell that to the Fairness and Peace people at Stroma, not me. I already believe you.”

Chapter I, Part 4

The long summer came to an end. Master Floreste’s troupe of Mummers returned from a successful off-world tour, the profits of which would help fulfill Floreste’s great dream: a magnificent new Orpheum for the glorification of the performing arts. Glawen celebrated his sixteenth birthday and immediately started flight training under the supervision of the airport manager: one Eustace Chilke, a native of Old Earth.

The lessons, the flyers and Eustace Chilke himself, with his tales of odd folk in remote places, for a time dominated Glawen’s life. Chilke, while barely past the first flush of youth, was already the veteran of a hundred picaresque adventures. He had traveled the Gaean Reach far and wide, at every level of the economic ladder: all of which had yielded him a working philosophy which he often shared with Glawen. “Poverty is acceptable because then there is no way but up. Rich people worry about losing their wealth, but I like this worry far more than the worry of scratching the wealth together in the first place. Also, people are nicer to you when they think you are rich - although they’ll often hit you over the head to find out where you hide your money.”

Chilke’s appearance, while not at all remarkable, combined an unobtrusive flamboyance with a droll corded face. His features were weather-beaten and somewhat irregular, under a coarse and tattered crop of short dust-colored hair. He stood at average stature, with a short neck and heavy shoulders which caused him to hunch slightly forward.

Chilke described himself as a farm boy from the Big Prairie. He spoke so feelingly of his old home, the neat little prairie towns and the wide windy landscapes that Glawen inquired if he ever planned to return.

“Indeed I do,” said Chilke. “But only after I’ve amassed a fortune. When I left they called me a vagabond and threw rocks after the car. I want to return in style, with a band playing and girls dancing ahead of me throwing rose petals in the street.” Chilke thought back over the years. “All taken with all, I suspect that the consensus was correct. Not that I was mean and vicious; I just took after Grandpa Swaner, on my mother’s side. The Chilkes never thought highly of the Swaners, who were felt to be Society folk from the city and hence worthless. Grandpa Swaner was also considered a vagabond. He liked to deal in junk: purple bric-a-brac, stuffed animals, old books and documents, petrified dinosaur droppings. He had a collection of glass eyes of which he was very proud. The Chilkes laughed and jeered, sometimes behind his back, sometimes not. He wasn’t troubled in the least, especially after he sold the glass eyes to a fervent collector for a princely sum. The Chilkes stopped laughing and began looking around for glass eyes of their own.

“Grandpa Swaner was a canny old bird, no question about it, and always turned a handsome profit on his deals. The Chilkes finally had to stop calling him names out of embarrassment. I was his favorite. He gave me a beautiful
Atlas of the Gaean Worlds
for my birthday. It was an enormous book, two feet high by three feet wide and six inches thick, with Mercator maps of all the settled worlds. Whenever Grandpa Swaner came upon an item of interesting information regarding one of these worlds he’d paste it to the back of the map. When I was sixteen he took me to Tamar, Capella Nine, aboard a Gateway Line packet. It was the first time I’d been off-world and I was never the same again.

“Grandpa Swaner belonged to a dozen professional societies, including the Naturalist Society. I vaguely remember him telling me of a world at the end of Mircea’s Wisp which the Naturalists kept as a preserve for wild animals. I wondered if the animals appreciated what was being done for them, so that they would abstain from eating people like Grandpa Swaner. I was just an innocent kindly child. Strange to say, here I am now, still innocent and kindly, at Araminta Station.”

“How did you happen to come here?”

“That’s a peculiar story, and I haven’t sorted it out yet. There are two or three puzzling coincidences which are very hard to explain.”

“How so? I’m something of a vagabond myself, and I’m interested.”

Chilke was amused by the remark. “The story starts off sedately enough. I was working as a tour-bus operator out of Seven Cities, on John Preston’s World.” Chilke told how he became aware of “a big white-skinned lady wearing a tall black hat” who joined Chilke’s morning tour four days in succession. At last she engaged him in conversation, commenting favorably upon his amiable manner and sympathetic conduct. “It’s nothing special: just my stock-in-trade,” said Chilke modestly.

The lady introduced herself as Madame Zigonie, a widow from Rosalia, a world to the back of the Pegasus Rectangle. After a few minutes of conversation she suggested that Chilke join her for lunch: an invitation which Chilke saw no reason to refuse.

Madame Zigonie selected a fine restaurant where they were served an excellent lunch. During the meal she encouraged Chilke to talk of his early years on the Big Prairie and the general facts of his family background. Presently the focus of the conversation shifted and touched upon a number of various subjects. As if on sudden impulse, Madame Zigonie revealed to Chilke that she was conscious within herself of strong clairvoyant powers which she ignored only at grave risk to herself and her fortunes. “Perhaps you have wondered at my manifest interest in you,” she told Chilke. “The fact is that I must hire an overseer for my ranch, and this mysterious inner voice insisted that you were the right and proper person for the position.”

“Interesting!” said Chilke. “I’m an old farm boy, no question as to that. I hope that your inner voice recommends a high salary.”

“Adequately high,” said Madame Zigonie. “Shadow Valley Ranch comprises twenty-two thousand square miles with a hundred or more employees. It is a responsible post. I can offer a salary of ten thousand sols per year, along with travel and living expenses.”

“Hm,” said Chilke. “It sounds like an important job. The proper salary would seem to be twenty thousand sols: less than a sol per square mile, which I consider a bargain.”

Madame Zigonie said decisively: “The salary is not reckoned on that basis, since not every square mile needs careful supervision. Ten thousand sols is quite adequate. You will reside in a private bungalow, with ample room for all your belongings. It is important to be surrounded by one’s little treasures; don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.”

“You will find conditions quite congenial,” said Madame Zigonie. “I shall see to it personally.”

Chilke spoke with great earnestness: “I want to reassure you in regard to a rather delicate matter. Never fear that I might become overfamiliar! Never, never, never!”

“You are remarkably emphatic!” said Madame Zigonie coldly. “The possibility had never occurred to me.”

“It is wise to be clear on these things, if only for your peace of mind. You need expect nothing from me except dignified and formal conduct. The fact is, I am sworn to celibacy and I am already married, to boot. Also, if the truth be known, I am somewhat underpowered, shall we say, which makes me nervous and flighty when ladies get too friendly. Hence you may rest easy in this regard.”

Madame Zigonie gave her head a toss which almost dislodged her tall black hat. She noticed Chilke staring at her forehead, and quickly rearranged the russet curls which fringed her face. “That is only a birthmark you see; pay it no heed.”

“Just so. It is rather like a tattoo.”

“No matter.” Madame Zigonie carefully adjusted her hat. “I take it that you will accept the post?”

“Regarding the salary, fifteen thousand sols would seem a nice compromise.”

“It would also seem an inordinate sum for a person of your inexperience.”

 “Oh?” Chilke raised his eyebrows. “What does your clairvoyant power tell you in this regard?”

“It inclines to the same opinion.”

“In that case, let us abandon the entire idea.” Chilke rose to his feet. “I thank you for the lunch and for an interesting conversation. Now, if you will excuse me –”

“Not so fast,” snapped Madame Zigonie. “Perhaps something can be arranged. Where are your belongings?”

“They’re more or less the clothes on my back and a change of underwear,” said Chilke. “I tend to travel light, in case I want to make a hasty move somewhere.”

“Still, you must have the goods you inherited from your grandfather. We shall ship everything to Rosalia and you will feel comfortably at home.”

“Not necessarily,” said Chilke. “There’s a stuffed moose in the barn, but I don’t want it in the front room of my bungalow.”

“I’m interested in such things,” said Madame Zigonie. “Perhaps we should go to Big Prairie and make an inventory, or I could go by myself.”

“The family wouldn’t like it,” said Chilke.

“Still, we must do our best to bring you your things.”

“It’s not all that necessary.”

“We shall see.”

In due course Chilke arrived at Rosalia, a rough-and-ready little world at the back of the Pegasus Rectangle. Lipwillow on the banks of the Big Muddy River was the principal town and spaceport. Chilke spent a night at the Big Muddy Hotel and in the morning was conveyed to Shadow Valley Ranch. Madame Zigonie housed him in a small bungalow under a pair of blue-pepper trees, and put him in charge of a hundred indentured workers of an unfamiliar race: handsome golden-skinned young men known as Yips.

“The Yips were a source of total frustration; I could never entice them to work. I tried to be nice and I tried to be cruel. I begged, I threatened, I reasoned, I intimidated. They just smiled at me. They were quite willing to talk about work, but they always had some more or less sane reason why a certain job could not or should not be done.

“Madame Zigonie watched for a while, laughing to herself. Finally she explained how to handle the Yips. ‘They are sociable creatures, and detest solitude. Take one of them to a job, tell him that’s where he stays, alone, until the job is done. He’ll howl and cry, and explain that he needs help, but the more he complains, the faster he’ll work, and if it isn’t done right, he must stay and do it all over. You’ll find that they’ll work briskly enough once they get the idea.’

“I don’t know why she waited so long to tell me. She was an odd one, no question as to that. She was not often in residence at the ranch. Every time she showed up I asked for my salary, and she said: ‘Yes, of course; it slipped my mind. I’ll see to it directly.’ But the next thing I knew she was gone again and I was still penniless. Finally I was reduced to gambling with the Yips and taking what little money they had. When I think back and remember their sad faces I feel just a bit ashamed.

“On one occasion Madame Zigonie was gone several months. She came back in a tense mood. I had lunch with her at the big house and out of a blue sky she said that after careful thought she had decided to marry me. We were to join our lives, mingle our hopes and dreams, share our possessions and live in connubial bliss. I sat stunned, with my mouth hanging open. I have mentioned my first impression of Madam Zigonie at Seven Cities. She had not become more appealing in the meantime. She was still tall and portly; her face was round with round cheeks, and her skin was still the color of lard.

“I said in a polite way that the idea did not fit in with my plans, but, just out of curiosity, what was the sum total of her wealth, and would it be signed over to me at once, or only upon her demise?

“At this she became a bit haughty and asked what I proposed to contribute to the union. I frankly admitted that I had nothing but a barnful of purple bric-a-brac and a hundred stuffed animals. She didn’t like it, but said it would have to do. I said no, not really. It wasn’t fair to her; what with all my peculiar hang-ups in regard to ladies; also we mustn’t forget that I was already married to a lady in Winnipeg, which made another marriage not only redundant but also unthinkable to a man of honor. Madame Zigonie became angry and discharged me on the instant, without paying my salary.

“I made my way into town and went to Poolie’s Place, at the end of a pier reaching fifty yards out into Big Muddy. I sat down with a cold lager and tried to decide what to do. Who should I meet there but Namour, fresh from delivering a gang of indentured Yips to one of the outback ranches. This was a private side enterprise to his regular work, so he told me. I asked how he was able to recruit the Yips; he said it was no problem and actually a fine opportunity for any who showed diligence, since, after working out their indenture, the Yips could take up land and become ranchers themselves. I told him that in my opinion the Yips were next to worthless as workers. He just laughed and told me I didn’t know how to handle them. He used the telephone, then notified me that he had spoken to Madame Zigonie, who said I could have my old job back if I wanted it. Namour thought it was a good idea, and that I’d been far too hasty in leaving for town. I told him: ‘You marry that lady, so she’s comfortably taken care of, then come talk to me.’ He said: ‘Not bloody likely,’ but there was another possibility: how would I like managing the airport at Araminta Station? I said: ‘Yes indeed, I surely would.’ He said he could guarantee nothing, but the position was open and he thought he could push the job my way. ‘But don’t forget,’ he said, ‘first and foremost I’m a businessman and I’ll take something in return.’ I told him he could have his choice of a purple vase with two handles or a stuffed mink eating a stuffed mouse. Namour finally said he’d help me with the job anyway, and if he ever got to Earth he might go pick out something he liked. I said that could be arranged, if a few loose ends were tied up, such as my getting the job. He said not to worry; the details would sort themselves out.”

Upon Chilke’s arrival at Araminta Station, Namour introduced him to the Bureau D authorities, who put Chilke through an intensive grilling. Chilke declared himself supremely qualified for the position, and in the end no one could prove otherwise and he was hired on a probationary basis.

It soon became evident that, if anything, Chilke had understated his capabilities and the appointment was made permanent.