Travis cried out happily, “then is our goal made known. Consider: from your poor natal horoscope, in this city, this land, no fortune arises. You doom yourself, with Lappy, by remaining here. But what business is this? Seek you not better times? Could you not go forth to another place, and so become people of gravity, of substance, of moment?”
The girl regarded for a moment, puzzled, then caught his point and shook her head sadly.
“Odd man, without profit. You misconstrue. Such as we, my brother and I, are not condemned by place, but by twistings of the character. My natal Huck, retrograde in the tenth, gives an untrustworthy, criminous person. It would be so here, there, anywhere. My pattern is set. Such travels as you describe are for those who conflict only with place. I, and my brother, it is our sad fortune to conflict with all.”
“But this is the core,” Travis insisted. “The conflict is with Mert! Consider, such travail as is yours stems from the radiations of Huck, of Weepen, of Scharb. But should you remove yourself beyond their reach, across great vastnesses of space to where other planets subtend—and in their alien radiation extinguish and nullify those of Huck—what fortune comes then? What rises, what leaps in joy?”
The girl sat speechless, staring at Travis with great soft eyes. The boy Lappy, who until that moment had been grinning happily over the news that his laws were true, suddenly understood what Travis was saying and let his mouth fall open.
But the girl sat without expression. Then, to Travis’ dismay, a slow dark look of disgust came over her face.
“This,” she said ominously, “this smacks of vetching.”
The word fell like a sudden fog. Lappy, who had begun to smile, cut it sharply off. Travis, remembering what vetching meant to these people, gathered his forces.
“Woman,” he said bitingly, “you speak in offense, but with patience and kindness I heal your insult. I control my choler, but my blood flows hot, therefore fasten your tongue. Tell me not that I have overvalued you, for your brain is clear, your courage thick. Wherefore speak of vetch? What vetch is there in travel? He vetches who leaves a certainty for another certainty, who attempts to avoid his starry fate. But you go from a certain end to an end not certain at all, to places of dark mystery, of grim foreboding. It may be that you perish, or pain in the extreme, as well as gain fortune. The end is not clear. This then is not vetching. Now retreat your words, and reply to me as one does to a friend, a companion, one who seeks your good.”
He sat tautly while the girl thought it out. Eventually she dropped her eyes in submission and he sighed inwardly with relief. It was accomplished. He would have to shore it up perhaps with a little elaboration, but it was accomplished.
Ten minutes later he was standing free and unbound in the passageway. It was just barely in time. Down the round dark tunnel two men came.
*
Navel stopped gingerly over the bodies and gazed at Travis with awestruck admiration.
“A rare skill,” she murmured, “they did flip and gyrate as dry leaves in the wind.”
“Observe then,” Travis said ominously, inspecting meanwhile the long slash down his arm with which Tude had nearly gotten him “and learn. And in the future receive my words with planetary respect.”
“I will.”
“And I,” added Lappy, shaken.
“Fair. Bright. Now attend. How lies the path?”
“Through more such as these, I fear. This place in which we trouble lies at a dead end. We must proceed through great halls where many sit waiting, ere we arrive at the light.”
“No other way? Think now.”
“None.”
Travis sighed.
“And they talk about luck. Well boy,” he turned to Lappy, “give me your blunderbuss. Obtain that one’s knife”—he indicated the sleeping Tude—“and let us carve our way out into the sunshine.”
But as it turned out, the getting free was much easier than he had anticipated. There was only one band, the girl’s own, between them and the opening, and these had fortunately just finished their evening meal when Travis stalked, black, gaunt and murderous, out of the tunnel into their large round room. Part of it was the surprise, part of it was the sudden knowledge that big Tude and the other man had already tried to stop him, but most of it was simply the look of him. He was infinitely ready. They were not, had no reason to be, and they took it automatically for granted that a man this confident must have the stars behind him. They regarded him thoughtfully as he went on by. No one moved. They were a philosophical people. When he had gone, taking the boy and girl with him, they discussed it thoroughly.
Out under the sky at last it was pitch black and the stars were shining. Travis realized that he had been in the sewer almost a full 24 hours. That meant that the eclipse was done, tomorrow would be a good day. There was not much time.
He commandeered the first carriage to come by, routing three elegantly dressed but unwarlike young men who fled in terror. He saw with relief that they thought him only another sewer rat, for if word of an Earthman robbing the local citizens ever got out there would be hell to pay, and in addition to his other troubles he could not abide that. He told Navel to head for the field where old 29 rested. Thoroughly bushed and beginning now to feel a woeful hunger, he sat back to brood.
At the ship young Trippe greeted him with haggard astonishment. He jumped forward joyfully.
“Trav! By jig, Trav, I thought we’d lost you. Old Dolly’s over at the local police sta—” He stopped abruptly and stood slack-jawed as Navel and Lappy clambered fearfully through the lock. Travis glanced back. No spectators. Good.
“Now what in the sweet silly name—” Trippe began, but Travis stopped him.
“Russ, be a good kid. See if you can get me something to eat. Haven’t had a bite in 24 hours.”
“Sure, Trav, sure, only—what’s with the Lower Depths here?”
“You might show them the showers,” Travis grinned. “Or at least turn on the air conditioning. But listen, anything new on the contract?”
Trippe’s face fell. “Not a thing. Even worse. Let me tell you. But ho, the food.” He dashed off. Travis collapsed into a chair. A few moments later Trippe came back bearing food, but his eyes by now had begun to penetrate the dirt of the girl, and he stood watching her, bemused. Then suddenly he began to look happier than he had in several days. Travis told him briefly what had happened in the sewer, also about the brains of Lappy. Trippe was impressed. But he continued to regard the girl.
“Well,” Travis said, munching, “fill me in on what’s been going on. The eclipse come off?”
Trippe jerked. He focussed on Travis unhappily.
“Oh boy, did it come off. Wait’ll you hear. Listen, you know the way it is now, I think they’re going to kick all Earthmen off this planet. The M.C. says we may have to leave and come back a hundred years from now. Not anybody going to get a contract now.”
“What happened?”
“Well, you wouldn’t believe it. You have to understand these people’s astrology. You know the little moon these people have—Felda, they call it—it’s only a tiny thing, really only a few hundred yards wide. Well, when the Mapping Command first came by here they set down on that Moon and set up a listening post before landing, you know, the way they always do, to size up the situation through telescopes, radio, all that. Mostly they just orbit but this time they landed. God knows why. And took off again, naturally, throwing in the star drive. So today the eclipse comes off all right, but it comes off late.”
He could not help smiling.
“You see what happened. A star drive is a hell of a force. It altered the orbit of the moon. Not enough to make any real difference, just a few hours a year, only minutes a day, but