Even Pages - Citizen of the Galaxy

Embed Doc
Copy Link
Readcast
Collections

CommentGo Back

Download

1 Robert Heinlein

Chapter 1

"Lot ninety-seven," the auctioneer announced. "A boy."The boy was dizzy and half sick from the feel of ground underfoot Theslave ship had come more than forty light-years; it carried in its holds the stink of all slave ships, a reek of crowded unwashed bodies, of fear and vomit andancient grief. Yet in it the boy had been someone, a recognized member of agroup, entitled to his meal each day, entitled to fight for his right to eat it in peace. He had even had friends. Now he was again nothing and nobody, again about to be sold.A lot had been knocked down on the auction block, matched blondegirls, alleged to be twins; the bidding had been brisk, the price high. Theauctioneer turned with a smile of satisfaction and pointed at the boy. "Lotninety-seven. Shove him up here."The boy was cuffed and prodded onto the block, stood tense while hisferal eyes darted around, taking in what he had not been able to see from the pen. The slave market lies on the spaceport side of the famous Plaza of Liberty,facing the hill crowned by the still more famous Praesidium of the Sargon,capitol of the Nine Worlds. The boy did not recognize it; he did not even knowwhat planet he was on. He looked at the crowd.Closest to the slave block were beggars, ready to wheedle each buyer as he claimed his property. Beyond them, in a semi-circle, were seats for therich and privileged. On each flank of this elite group waited their slaves, bearers, and bodyguards and drivers, idling near the ground cars of the rich andthe palanquins and sedan chairs of the still richer. Behind the lords and ladieswere commoners, idlers and curious, freedmen and pickpockets and vendors of cold drinks, an occasional commoner merchant not privileged to sit but alert for a bargain in a porter, a clerk, a mechanic, or even a house servant for his wives."Lot ninety-seven," the auctioneer repeated. "A fine, healthy lad,suitable as page or tireboy. Imagine him, my lords and ladies, in the livery of your house. Look at – " His words were lost in the scream of a ship, doppleringin at the spaceport behind him.

2 Robert Heinlein

The old beggar Baslim the Cripple twisted his half-naked body andsquinted his one eye over the edge of the block. The boy did not look like adocile house servant to Baslim; he looked a hunted animal, dirty, skinny, and bruised. Under the dirt, the boy's back showed white scar streaks, endorsementsof former owners' opinions.The boy's eyes and the shape of his ears caused Baslim to guess thathe might be of unmutated Earth ancestry, but not much could be certain savethat he was small, scared, male, and still defiant The boy caught the beggar staring at him and glared back.The din died out and a wealthy dandy seated in front waved a kerchief lazily at the auctioneer. "Don't waste our time, you rascal. Show us somethinglike that last lot.""Please, noble sir. I must dispose of the lots in catalog order.""Then get on with it! Or cuff that starved varmint aside and show usmerchandise.""You are kind, my lord." The auctioneer raised his voice. "I have beenasked to be quick and I am sure my noble employer would agree. Let me befrank. This beautiful lad is young; his new owner must invest instruction inhim. Therefore – " The boy hardly listened. He knew only a smattering of thislanguage and what was said did not matter anyhow. He looked over the veiledladies and elegant men, wondering which one would be his new problem." – a low starting price and a quick turnover. A bargain! Do I hear twenty stellars?"The silence grew awkward. A lady, sleek and expensive from sandaledfeet to lace-veiled face, leaned toward the dandy, whispered and giggled. Hefrowned, took out a dagger and pretended to groom his nails. "I said to get onwith it," he growled.The auctioneer sighed. "I beg you to remember, gentlefolk, that I mustanswer to my patron. But we'll start still lower. Ten stellars – yes, I said. 'Ten.'Fantastic!"He looked amazed. "Am I growing deaf? Did someone lift a finger and I fail to see it? Consider, I beg you. Here you have a fresh young lad like aclean sheet of paper; you can draw any design you like. At this unbelievablylow price you can afford to make a mute of him, or alter him as your fancy pleases.""Or feed him to the fish!"" 'Or feed him – ' Oh, you are witty, noble sir!""I'm bored. What makes you think that sorry item is worth anything?Your son, perhaps?"The auctioneer forced a smile. "I would be proud if he were. I wish Iwere permitted to tell you this lad's ancestry – ""Which means you don't know."

3 Robert Heinlein

"Though my lips must be sealed, I can point out the shape of his skull,the perfectly rounded curve of his ears." The auctioneer nipped the boy's ear, pulled it.The boy twisted and bit his hand. The crowd laughed.The man snatched his hand away. "A spirited lad. Nothing a taste of leather won't cure. Good stock, look at his ears. The best in the Galaxy, somesay."The auctioneer had overlooked something; the young dandy was fromSyndon IV. He removed his helmet, uncovering typical Syndonian ears, long,hairy, and pointed. He leaned forward and his ears twitched. "Who is your noble protector?"The old beggar Baslim scooted near the corner of the block, ready toduck. The boy tensed and looked around, aware of trouble withoutunderstanding why. The auctioneer went white – no one sneered at Syndoniansface to face ... not more than once. "My lord," he gasped, "you misunderstoodme.""Repeat that crack about 'ears' and 'the best stock.' "Police were in sight but not close. The auctioneer wet his lips. "Begracious, gentle lord. My children would starve. I quoted a common saying – not my opinion. I was trying to hasten a bid for this chattel ... as you yourself urged."The silence was broken by a female voice saying, "Oh, let him go,Dwarol. It's not his fault how the slave's ears are shaped; he has to sell him."The Syndonian breathed heavily. "Sell him, then!"The auctioneer took a breath. "Yes, my lord." He pulled himself together and went on, "I beg my lords' and ladies' pardons for wasting time on aminor lot. I now ask for any bid at all."He waited, said nervously, "I hear no bid, I see no bid. No bid once ...if you do not bid, I am required to return this lot to stock and consult my patron before continuing. No bid twice. There are many beautiful items to be offered;it would be a shame not to show them. No bid three – ""There's your bid," the Syndonian said."Eh?" The old beggar was holding up two fingers. The auctioneer stared. "Are you offering a bid?""Yes," croaked the old man, "if the lords and ladies permit."The auctioneer glanced at the seated circle. Someone in the crowdshouted, "Why not? Money is money."The Syndonian nodded; the auctioneer said quickly, "You offer twostellars for this boy?""No, no, no, no, no!" Baslim screamed. "Two minims!"The auctioneer lacked at him; the beggar jerked his head aside. Theauctioneer shouted, "Get out! I'll teach you to make fun of your betters!""Auctioneer!""Sir? Yes, my lord?"

of 00

Leave a Comment