[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

required reactions to obligatory actions, as to make the stratified, protocol-ridden society of Jubbul seem
like chaos. The Captain's wife was Thorby's "mother" but she was also Deputy Chief Officer; how he
addressed her depended on what he had to say. Since he was in bachelor quarters, the mothering phase
ceased before it started; nevertheless she treated him warmly as a son and offered her cheek for his kiss
just as she did for Thorby's roommate and elder brother Fritz.
But as Deputy Chief Officer she could be as cold as a tax collector.
Not that her status was easier; she would not be Chief Officer until the old woman had the grace to
die. In the meantime she was hand and voice and body servant for her mother-in-law. Theoretically
senior officers were elective; practically it was a one-party system with a single slate. Krausa was captain
because his father had been; his wife was deputy chief officer because she was his wife, and she would
someday become chief officer -- and boss him and his ship as his mother did -- for the same reason.
Meanwhile his wife's high rank carried with it the worst job in the ship, with no respite, for senior officers
served for life . . . unless impeached, convicted, and expelled -- onto a planet for unsatisfactory
performance, into the chilly thinness of space for breaking the ancient and pig-headed laws of Sisu.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
But such an event was as scarce as a double eclipse; Thorby's mother's hope lay in heart failure,
stroke, or other hazard of old age.
Thorby as adopted youngest son of Captain Krausa, senior male of the Krausa sept, titular head of
Sisu clan (the Captain's mother being the real head), was senior to three-fourths of his new relatives in
clan status (he had not yet acquired ship's rank). But seniority did not make life easier. With rank goeth
privileges -- so it ever shall be. But also with it go responsibility and obligation, always more onerous than
privileges are pleasant.
It was easier to learn to be a beggar.
He was swept up in his new problems and did not see Doctor Margaret Mader for days. He was
hurrying down the trunk corridor of fourth deck -- he was always hurrying now -- when he ran into her.
He stopped. "Hello, Margaret."
"Hello, Trader. I thought for a moment that you were no longer speaking to fraki."
"Aw, Margaret!"
She smiled. "I was joking. Congratulations, Thorby. I'm happy for you -- it's the best solution under
the circumstances."
"Thanks. I guess so."
She shifted to System English and said with motherly concern, "You seem doubtful, Thorby. Aren't
things going well?"
"Oh, things are all right" He suddenly blurted the truth. "Margaret, I'm never going to understand these
people!"
She said gently, "I've felt the same way at the beginning of every field study and this one has been the
most puzzling. What is bothering you?"
"Uh . . . I don't know. I never know. Well, take Fritz -- he's my elder brother. He's helped me a lot --
then I miss something that he expects me to understand and he blasts my ears off. Once he hit me. I hit
back and I thought he was going to explode."
"Peck rights," said Margaret.
"What?"
"Never mind. It isn't scientifically parallel; humans aren't chickens. What happened?"
"Well, just as quickly he went absolutely cold, told me he would forget it, wipe it out, because of my
ignorance."
"Noblesse oblige."
"Huh?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Sorry. My mind is a junk yard. And did he?"
"Completely. He was sweet as sugar. I don't know why he got sore . . . and I don't know why he quit
being sore when I hit him." He spread his hands. "It's not natural."
"No, it isn't. But few things are. Mmm . . . Thorby, I might be able to help. It's possible that I know
how Fritz works better than he knows. Because I'm not one of the 'People.'"
"I don't understand."
"I do, I think. It's my job to. Fritz was born into the People; most of what he knows -- and he is a very
sophisticated young man -- is subconscious. He can't explain it because he doesn't know he knows it; he
simply functions. But what I have learned these past two years I have learned consciously. Perhaps I can
advise you when you are shy about asking one of them. You can speak freely with me; I have no status."
"Gee, Margaret, would you?"
"Whenever you have time. I haven't forgotten that you promised to discuss Jubbul with me, either. But
don't let me hold you; you seemed in a hurry."
"I wasn't, not really." He grinned sheepishly. "When I hurry I don't have to speak to as many people . .
. and I usually don't know how."
"Ah, yes. Thorby, I have photographs, names, family classification, ship's job, on everyone. Would it
help?"
"Huh? I should say so! Fritz thinks it's enough just to point somebody out once and say who he is."
"Then come to my room. It's all right; I have a dispensation to interview anyone there. The door opens
into a public corridor; you don't cross purdah line."
Arranged by case cards with photographs, the data Thorby had had trouble learning piecemeal he
soaked up in half an hour -- thanks to Baslim's training and Doctor Mader's orderliness. In addition, she
had prepared a family tree for the Sisu; it was the first he had seen; his relatives did not need diagrams,
they simply knew.
She showed him his own place. "The plus mark means that while you are in the direct sept, you were
not born there. Here are a couple more, transferred from collateral branches to sept . . . to put them into
line of command I suspect. You people call yourselves a 'family' but the grouping is a phratry."
"A what?"
"A related group without a common ancestor which practices exogamy -- that means marrying outside
the group. "The exogamy taboo holds, modified by rule of moiety. You know how the two moieties
work?"
"They take turns having the day's duty."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Yes, but do you know why the starboard watch has more bachelors and the port watch more single
women?"
"Uh, I don't think so."
"Females adopted from other ships are in port moiety; native bachelors are starboard. Every girl in
your side must be exchanged . . . unless she can find a husband among a very few eligible men. You
should have been adopted on this side, but that would have required a different foster father. See the
names with a blue circle-and-cross? One of those girls is your future wife . . . unless you find a bride on
another ship."
Thorby felt dismayed at the thought. "Do I have to?"
"If you gain ship's rank to match your family rank, you'll have to carry a club to beat them off."
It fretted him. Swamped with family, he felt more need for a third leg than he did for a wife.
"Most societies," she went on, "practice both exogamy and endogamy -- a man must marry outside his
family but inside his nation, race, religion, or some large group, and you Free Traders are no exception;
you must cross to another moiety but you can't marry fraki. But your rules produce an unusual setup;
each ship is a patrilocal matriarchy."
"A what?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]