Island Worlds (2 page)

"Well, the girl came by her looks legitimately," said a voice behind his shoulder. Thor turned to see Bob Ciano gesturing toward the portraits with a sloshing wineglass. In honor of the occasion Bob had worn a tuxedo to go with his buckled motorcycle boots. His gray hair and beard were uncombed.

"Bob!" Thor said, hugging the old man. "I haven't seen you in years. Where have you been hiding?"

"Don't disrupt my train of thought. Now that girl of yours has my mother's genes. No wonder she's pretty. But, is that enough?"

"What're you getting at, Bob?" Bob had a maddening habit of approaching any subject so obliquely that it could be months, if ever, before Thor could understand what he had been getting at.

"Thor, you're different from the rest of this Earthbound family. You want to get off into space, like I never could." Robert Ciano had been born during one of his mother's infrequent trips to Earth. He suffered from a rare congenital heart condition, one which precluded his ever going into space. He had grown up waiting for the breakthrough which would allow him to enter space. The breakthrough had never come. He had studied to become a theoretical physicist, but he lacked the inspiration to be the kind of genius his father had been. He had taught for a while, then had retired from active teaching to ride his motorcycle and drink and generally be an embarrassment to his family. The only one he had taken any interest in had been Thor.

"Thor," Bob said with drunken intensity, "do it! Get the hell out of here and leave this degenerate bunch of hyenas behind." He linked an arm through Thor's and walked him along the row of portraits. Thor noticed that they were being watched by some of the flunkies.

"Now here's your grandpa, old Sam," Bob said. "I happen to know that he only wore those dress blues three times in his life. Two of those times was to get decorated by the President. The other time was for this portrait. And he never smoked a pipe. Over here's my dear old Mom. You know, if she'd just waited a couple of weeks I'd've been born in space and never left." The old man turned aside and honked into a handkerchief. The only thing about him that Thor didn't like was his tendency to turn drunkenly maudlin.

"But none of 'em would be more than a footnote in history if it hadn't been for my Dad. I never knew Dad, you know, except for TeleHolos."

"I know, Bob," Thor said.

"Yep, old Dad was a great man. Probably the greatest genius who ever lived. Used to tell me so himself, frequently. I'll tell you something else that not many people know: Old Ugo was a dwarf, or damned near. That's another reason these McNaughtons don't want to allow his portrait in here. They have the best looks money can buy and it'd hurt their image."

"I know, Bob," Thor said. He had heard all this before.

"I'm not referring to Karen, of course. Her looks didn't come from a surgeon. At least I don't think so. But back to your plans to emigrate. What's it to be? Mars, the Jovian moons?"

"The asteroids."

"Good choice! Have you picked a destination?"

"I've applied to several of the scientific stations and it looks as if I can have my pick. I finish my final year of graduate work at Yale next spring and I can leave any time after that. My permit to emigrate came through today." He patted his pocket once more.

"What was it you were studying? Space-habitation engineering?"

"That's right."

Bob stood with his hands behind his back, studying a model of the
Donald McKay
, flagship of the McNaughton fleet in the mid-'twenties. He rocked back and forth on his feet, seemingly about to topple. His voice, when it came, was quiet and utterly sober. "Thor, if I were you I wouldn't wait. In fact, I'd walk right out of this house, convert all my assets into liquid or transferable form and get on the first ship out, even if I had to travel in steerage with the laborers and dissidents."

"What the hell's going on, Bob?" He had never figured out Bob's web of personal contacts and information sources, but he knew that the man wouldn't speak this way idly.

"There's something in the air. I live, by choice, in one of the most depressed working-class neighborhoods east of Calcutta. The Earth First party is gaining strength. In the past six months, street-level propaganda has gotten really fierce. They're blaming just about everything on the Offworld colonies, especially the independents in the asteroids and on the Jovian satellites."

"That's ridiculous!" Thor protested.

"Of course it's ridiculous!" Bob snapped, causing some heads to swivel. Then, more calmly: "So what? Truth and probability are of no importance in propaganda. What counts is loudness, volume and frequency of repetition. It's all over the place these days and people are getting stirred up. There's agitation to get all emigration offworld stopped."

"That kind of talk's been going on all my life," Thor said. "They've never amounted to anything and the world economy is too dependent on offworld resources to allow them any access to power."

Bob snorted through his beard. "I wish you'd taken some time from your science and engineering classes to study some history. Being the source and controller of an irreplaceable resource has been the death of more peoples than I can readily name. Also, no political opportunist was ever blind to the fact that there's no unifying force like an external enemy. If one isn't there already, they'll create one. If you're dumb enough to stick around for the next few months, keep an eye on the news. We'll be seeing big, organized demonstrations shortly. The Earth Firsters have gotten real backing lately. They're going to make the offworld colonists a credible and much-hated enemy of Earthbound mankind. An enemy that's free and rich is the best kind. There's nothing like envy to give a little spice to everyday hate."

Thor wondered if Bob had finally pickled his brain beyond repair. "I'll grant you the free part, but rich? Most of the people out there are doing pretty well just to stay alive. It's the toughest kind of frontier, especially in the Belt. All the riches come down here." He waved around, indicating the spectacular mansion.

Bob shook his head and grabbed another glass of wine from a passing robot. "You're not listening, Thor. We're talking here about propaganda. Reality is nothing. Only perception counts. Look, if the news is too depressing for you, watch the pop entertainment programs. Plug your head into a Holoset for a day or two and see how the programming differs from what it was ten years ago. You were plugging into holo ten years ago, weren't you?"

Thor nodded. "That was about when I got away from it, in my mid-teens. Once you start taking up serious study, it's hard to go back to something as stupid as the pop holos."

"When you're a professional bum like me, you get to be an avid observer of popular culture. Often as not, you'll spot new social trends months before the learned researchers start commenting on them over the public information programs. I spend a good part of every day scanning the holos and talking to the street people. I see something really ugly coming along soon."

"You're not a bum," Thor said, smiling.

"Yes I am. I've been a bum all my life, and proud of it. But I'm a rich bum, and that makes a difference. I've been in contact with old friends in the university labs, in the courts, the military, business, everywhere. What I'm getting from all of them is the same: funding cuts, cancelled contracts, standby alerts, all of it aimed at offworld development."

"Even so," Thor said, uneasily, "what's it got to do with me? I'm not out there yet, and when I am I'll be away from them."

"They may not let you go, Thor, unless you move fast."

"It can't be that bad!"

"Thor," Bob said with mock patience, "where did you learn to think like that? Yale? It can always be that bad, except when it's much worse. Earth First has come out of the lunatic fringe. Old-line Republicans, Democrats and Constitutionalists are switching allegiance in droves. And it's not just confined to the U.S. It bids fair to become the first really popular international party since the early days of communism."

"Wait a minute, Bob." Thor held out a restraining hand. "You're going too fast. Last I heard, Earth First was a little group of nutcase xenophobes and antitechs, loud but harmless. Now you're telling me they're the wave of the future?"

"Exactly. You've been in school all your life, Thor, you've turned inward too much. Get down in the streets and look around, only don't drive that car of yours or you'll be dead in no time. The world doesn't consist of colleges and mansions, and you're not engaging in real life by driving antique sports cars or sailing yachts. If you're going to stick around Earthside for a while, I'd advise you to get a look at what's going on with the rest of humanity."

Thor studied a portrait for a few moments to cover his confusion. It was unlike Bob to be so serious and urgent.

"Aha!" Bob said, sounding drunk again. "Here comes my esteemed kinsman and co-director, Murdo McNaughton himself. "

Murdo was elegant in tux and red-heeled boots. He had the spuriously aristocratic look common to tall, whip-thin men with narrow facial features. "Good evening, Robert," he said frostily. "I must take young Thor away from you, I fear. We have things to discuss."

"You go right ahead, Murdo," Bob said, jovially. "I'll just avail myself of your excellent eats and liquid refreshments."

"As you always do. Robert, when are you going to grace our Directors' meetings once more? I really do need your vote on a number of important matters and it's so tedious to send men to scour all your haunts to get you to sign a proxy."

"Matter of fact, I figure to attend religiously from now on. I have a sneaky suspicion that you and the rest intend to sell McNaughton-Ciano Enterprises down the river very soon. You'll have a fight on your hands."

"Just be there," Murdo said.

"Thor, look me up before you leave here tonight. There's some things I want to put you onto." He turned and walked away toward a buffet, listing to one side.

"Every family has its resident eccentric," Murdo said. "Robert is our cross to bear. What were the two of you talking about?"

"Cars, motorcycles, planes, the usual." He was delighted that the glib lie came to him so easily. He had a feeling that he was going to need every bit of obfuscatory advantage he could summon at this party.

"Come along, Thor. Senator Jameson's in the main salon, and I know you'll want to meet him. Anthony Carstairs is with him, and so are a number of important U.N. people. You'll need these contacts in the future."

They walked past the portrait of Sam Taggart. God, I wish the old warrior was with me tonight, Thor thought. Carstairs, now who was that? The name sounded familiar, it had been in the news somewhere lately. Bob was right, Thor thought, he'd had his head in the clouds too much in recent years. He had fallen into the common elitist mindset of thinking that the concerns and interests of the proles were too trivial for his attention. People had walked up the steps to the guillotine thinking that way.

Murdo nodded to the glittering guests as they passed. "Karen is in a towering snit tonight. Is it this emigration business again?"

"I'm afraid so," Thor admitted. "I'm ready to go and she's balking."

Murdo grinned. "Ah, the simple enthusiasms of the young. Thor, space travel is a fine idea, everybody should try it once. But, if you stay out there too long you can't come back. The body just won't readjust. When you and Karen are married, I've arranged for a honeymoon on one of the lunar resorts. After that, we have several openings for people with your qualifications in the Belt, the outer satellites, the ell-fives, just take your pick. That way you can spend plenty of time in space, with frequent returns to Earth and have the best of both worlds. Emigration is one-way."

Thor disliked the man's patronizing tone and he disliked the easy, casual way he was mapping out Thor's future. Now that he thought of it, Murdo had always done that. In fact, it was the practice of the whole McNaughton-Taggart-Ciano family. Now was no time to be openly rebellious, though. He was about to take an irrevocable step in his life, and it suddenly looked as if it wasn't going to be as simple as he had thought. He had to know more. "I'll think about it."

"Good," Murdo said. "I think these people will help you see things in a clearer light." They entered the main salon, a throwback to the opulence of nineteenth-century robber barons. A facade of old-fashioned elegance was laid atop a complex of the latest technology, providing comfort, security and luxury. It was like the McNaughtons, Thor reflected, to pretend to ancestral eminence by aping the manners of earlier tycoons. They had even married some of the family members to the impecunious heirs of ancient European titles, as if anybody cared any more.

"Thor, have you met Senator Jameson?" Murdo asked.

"No, I haven't had that pleasure." Thor extended his hand. He knew of Jameson, of course. The young Constitutionalist senator from Colorado was in all the news reports, lately. He was a likely contender for the presidency of the U.S. within the next decade, once a few old Party warhorses had had their shot at the title.

"Mr. Taggart, it's a great pleasure to meet you." Just in shaking his hand and exchanging greetings, Thor could see why the man had risen so fast and why everyone raved about his great future in politics. He had the instant likeability of the born politician. He inspired confidence just by standing there. He made the commonplace greeting sound like one of the all-time great pronouncements from Olympus. Whatever charisma really was, David Jameson had it.

He was precisely six feet tall and had mature but boyishly handsome features. His gaze was steady and his teeth were perfect. He was groomed within an inch of his life. No breath of scandal had over touched him and he was happily married, a true rarity in the modern world. His speaking voice was deep and well-modulated. He never forgot a face or a name. Like Kennedy and Burdick, he would be the kind of president who seemed to have been born in the Oval Office.

"And this is Mr. Anthony Carstairs, National Chairman of the Earth First Party." Oho, Thor thought, I seem to be tripping all over that outfit tonight. Carstairs was a short, powerful fireplug of a man, neckless and bullet-headed. He had a handshake like a machine tool. He put Thor in mind of an old-time labor union leader. He would have made a very passable Prohibition gangster. This man was not the kind who could be a credible candidate for office, but he would keep the party in line and turn out the vote on election day.