Space search v1, p.2
Space Search (v1.)), page 2
The other bowed again, nervously, and indicated chairs for the two.
Attia growled to Venu, after the secretary had left to announce them, “The more they crawl on their bellies to you, the more they hate you. If I were a high-ranking official, I would surround myself with men willing to argue with me when they disagreed with my opinions.”
Venu looked at him from the side of his eyes, and for the first time since he had heard of his father’s disappearance allowed an edge of humor. “We shall see about that when they have elevated you to Gaewar, my friend.”
They were shortly ushered into the inner office where Chandra Gupta held forth. As lavish as the outer rooms of the Keep had been, the ultimate room of the Gaewar was spartan in furniture and decoration, as was its occupant in dress. The Gaewar had not been the first ruler in history to learn to gain prestige by avoiding ostentation before his underlings, many of whom attired and bejeweled themselves considerably more richly than did he. He wore a simple uniform in a land that did not tend to simplicity in costume and he bore himself with a soldier’s posture. His face was tired, but strict, and he was obviously one given to command.
The Gaewar looked at his son questioningly, after the amenities of greetings and introduction had been dispensed with. Venu had never met his close friend’s illustrious parent before, any more than he had met the guru of the university, and, so far were they above him, he had never expected to.
Chandra Gupta must have realized that something extraordinary was in the wind. His son was not that undisciplined as to break in upon so busy a man without cause. However, the Gaewar held his peace and merely nodded to his offspring.
Attia said strongly, “I come in behalf of my friend, Venu Jhabvola, son of Rishi Sudhin Jhabvola, of the Expediters subcaste.”
The Gaewar looked at Venu and nodded. “I knew your father and valued him, my son. He was a competent and honorable man.” He hesitated and then said, “I have heard the news. I offer my condolences. Please sit down, young gentlemen.”
The students sat and the Gaewar looked at his son. “Please elucidate. Why should it be necessary for you to intervene on behalf of Venu Jhabvola?”
Attia went through the story quickly but well. When he was finished he lapsed into the same silence Venu held, waiting for his father’s word.
Chandra Gupta thought about it. He stared off into a far corner of the room. “There is another element to it,” he said finally.
The younger men looked at him.
He said, “It is a seldom-evoked tradition, since there is so seldom a need for utilizing it. As I recall, the report from Medea is that Rishi Jhabvola has disappeared. There is no evidence of how, or why.”
Venu said, “Yes, Bahadur,” using the salutation of respect.
“Then no body has been produced as evidence that he is dead?”
“No, Bahadur.”
The Gaewar put the tips of his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. “By our traditions, if a rishi dies of natural causes or by accident, and his eldest son is not of age twenty-five, then a brother, or other relative if there is no brother, becomes acting rishi until the son is of age. At that time, the elders of the family gather. If it is deemed that the eldest son is competent to hold down the office, he becomes rishi. If the elders determine that he is not competent, then they search among the other men of the hereditary ruling family of the caste or sub-caste and try to find one who is suitable.”
Venu wondered why this recapitulation of a fact of Harappan society known to even a ten-year-old was necessary. He said, politely, “Yes, Bahadur.” But his expression must have shown he was mystified.
The Gaewar nodded. “However, I mention the seldom invoked tradition. If a rishi dies of violence by the hand of another, then his son, even though not of age, succeeds to the rank. It is most usual that the elders select advisers to assist him until he is of age, but he is officially rishi.”
Venu looked at him blankly. “I did not know of this, Bahadur.”
“Few people do,” Chandra Gupta said.
“But, Father, that means …” Attia blurted.
“Silence a moment, my son,” his parent said. He looked back at Venu. “The reason is this. Unscrupulous men are sometimes so dishonorable as to seek the death of a rishi so that they can usurp his rank, particularly if his eldest son is underage. This tradition insures that it is impractical to assassinate the head of a family, or sub-caste, or caste. Nothing is gained.”
Attia said urgently, “Sire, that means if Venu can prove that his father Sudhin died by violence, then he is immediately appointed rishi.”
Venu said in puzzlement, “But my father died on a far world. If it was by personal violence, then it was on the part of other-worldlings, not a person of Harappa.”
The Gaewar shook his head. “It makes no difference, son of my friend. By our tradition, if your father has died of personal violence, you are rishi of your family. You see, by such custom it makes it impractical for a villain to hire the services of another to commit his deed of violence. If Sudhin Jhabvola can be proven to have died of personal violence, you are rishi of the Jhabvola family and hence of the Expediters sub-caste.”
He turned to his auto-secretary and activated it. He said, “This by the command of the Gaewar. Venu Jhabvola, son of Sudhin Jhabvola, is ordered to repair to the planet Medea to investigate the circumstances of the disappearance of his father. It is instructed that acting rishi Mulk Jhabvola issue him sufficient interplanetary credits to finance his travels to and from Medea.”
He flicked another switch and said, “This order is to be issued to Mulk Jhabvola immediately.”
He turned back to the two students. “And now, my sons, I am very busy.”
3
At the evening meal that day, Venu sat with Mulk Jhabvola and the other older male members of the immediate family. Santha, of course, would eat later with the women and-younger children.
Venu kept his eyes to his food, knowing that his uncle was incensed. Incensed, but incapable of reacting against the order of the Gaewar.
Venu took up a small amount of rice from the thali, the large metal plate before him, and deftly rolled it into a snowball before dipping it into one of the small katorie bowls surrounding the plate. That particular katorie contained mint curry, one of his favorites. He popped the rice expertly into his mouth and reached for more, his eyes still low.
His uncle said, making little effort to keep anger from his voice, “So you saw fit to approach the Gaewar, in spite of my instructions to refrain from considering further this fantastic wild goose chase to Medea!”
“No, Uncle,” Venu said slowly. “It was suggested by Attia Gupta to attend upon his father. Attia is a Kshatriya, hence it was unseemly not to conform to his wishes.”
“Unseemly, perhaps,” his uncle snorted, “but not impossible, by our usage. Without doubt, you made a great show of yourself before the Gaewar, revealing the innermost affairs of our family.”
“No, Uncle. The Gaewar was already aware of the disappearance of my father.”
“And you talked him into issuing this ridiculous order to provide you with sufficient interplanetary credits to journey to and from Medea!”
Venu did his utmost to keep inflection from his own voice. After all, this man was acting rishi of the family and hence due great respect. He said, carefully, “No, Uncle. I spoke very little at all in the Gaewar’s presence. I was surprised when, on his own initiative, he issued the order. He did not consult with me.”
All of which was true, of course, though Venu was somewhat stretching the point. He most certainly had not protested the command.
He must, he decided, be a man among men, not a shrinking lad. He brought his eyes up and looked into his uncle’s. The other men at the table continued eating, possibly somewhat hurriedly, and kept their peace. They were new to the fact that the largely unpopular Mulk was now acting rishi of the family, rather than the quiet, gentle, and well-loved Sudhin.
Mulk Jhabvola was furious. Had not his complexion already been so dark, a deep flush would have been evident.
He snapped, “Very well. An order from the Gaewar must be heeded, no matter how poorly advised he might have been in issuing it. However, pray note, beloved nephew, that the order states that sufficient interplanetary credits be issued to finance your travels to and from Medea. Nothing is said about your expenses upon Medea itself.”
Venu stared at him blankly. He said, “But Uncle, how can I survive on an alien planet without resources?”
“The problem is not mine,” the other said bluntly. He turned to Bharata, his own son, a slight boy of eighteen, who sat on his father’s right, a snide quirk of amusement on his lips. “Tomorrow we will take measures to insure your entry into the University of New Bombay. Undoubtedly, in view of my present position as rishi of the Expediters sub-caste, you will be accepted.”
Venu could only note that his uncle had said rishi, not acting rishi.
4
At the spaceport, where Santha, Attia and Kamala had accompanied him to see him off, Venu told them of his dilemma.
Santha simply stared at him.
Attia said, “But this is ridiculous. We’ll return to my father and have him order Mulk Jhabvola to supply you with sufficient funds to cover your expenses on Medea.”
But Venu shook his head. “No. Already my uncle is greatly angered by my seeing the Gaewar. If I returned and a new order was issued him, he would be infuriated beyond belief.”
“Let him be infuriated!” Attia said indignantly.
Venu looked at his friend. “Pray remem-
ber that not only I but Santha will most likely be under my uncle’s domination for the rest of our lives. What sort of a dowry will he allow her from the family resources if I continue to thwart him? What sort of a position will he appoint me to in the Expediters sub-caste? Our lives are in his hands, Attia.”
“But what can you do?”
A steel ladder was descending from the spaceship and others standing on the spaceport tarmac began heading for the saucershaped vessel.
“I don’t know,” Venu said. “Never before in my life have I been in a spacecraft. Indeed, I have never been out of the province of New Bombay, not to speak of being on another world. I do not even know what language they speak on Medea.”
Attia said gruffly, “I understand that just about anywhere in the Allied Worlds confederation they speak Amer-English as a second language if not a first, just as we do. It has become the interplanetary lingua franca.”
“I must go,” Venu said. He turned to his sister, who was blinking to hold back tears, took her by the shoulders and kissed her fondly on the forehead. “While I am gone …” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, there is nothing I can say. You must now obey the orders of the acting rishi, and of the women of his family, since both our mother and father are now gone and we have no home of our own. And you must do your duties as you have been so well trained to do them while in the household of our father.”
He turned to Attia and they shook hands clumsily. To Kamala he bowed and smiled, since on Harappa, a male of other than her own family does not touch a girl who has reached puberty.
He turned and hurried toward the spaceship.
5
The Spaceship Hammerfest IV was out of New Bergen, a planet so lacking in natural resources that the inhabitants largely resorted to interplanetary commerce to accrue sufficient credits to allow for the import of their necessities. New Bergen was not alone in this field of endeavor, though it had a comparative monopoly in this sector of the galaxy. Among the 5,000 planets Earth had settled, many had insufficient interplanetary commerce or passengers to allow for a spacefleet, even had they wished one, which many didn’t.
Harappa, though not particularly isolationist, was among those worlds that, at least until recently, had seldom had occasion for trade of any magnitude. Seldom did her people desire to travel, save for pilgrimages to Earth and to Mother India. Individuals seldom repeated a trip even there. India was no longer the same place it had been when it had sent forth the colonists to Harappa. The institutions that the Harappans had taken with them were no longer to be found. Famed temples, replicas of which were still devoutly utilized in the colony world, were now museums on a cynical, ultra-advanced Earth. Customs still followed on the daughter world were only read about in anthropology classes on the mother world. Political institutions on the home planet were unrecognizable on conservative Harappa. It could prove traumatic to the nostalgic tourist from the still-Hindu world out on the rim of Allied Worlds.
So it was that until recently Harappa had not developed a spacefleet, but relied largely on the carriers of other planets to provide her with cargo and passenger services to the extent she needed them. Times were changing, somewhat, explaining the rapid growth of the Expediters sub-caste that was accelerating Harappan trade, often despite the anguish of the more conservative elements.
As a result of the efforts of such as Sudhin Jhabvola, Harappa was being dragged into the present and future, in spite of itself. In the near future, undoubtedly, it would secure the technology to build its own fleet of spacecraft.
The SS Hammerfest IV was basically a cargo craft, making semi-regular stops at the half dozen worlds it covered each year. However, its schedule was often revised if a particularly large cargo was available to be carted from one planet to another. Hence, it was not dependable for passenger services, if one were shipping through to a planet several stops beyond Harappa.
Ordinarily, Venu Jhabvola would have waited until a more tightly scheduled passenger craft had descended upon the New Bombay spaceport, but he was in a great hurry, so he took the first vessel that offered him passage to Medea. He was the only passenger aboard.
Venu Jhabvola concentrated on learning what he could of the planet Medea while on the ship. He had heard practically nothing on Harappa, beyond the fact that Medea was rich in radioactive elements and was hence able to earn considerable interplanetary credits from worlds less richly endowed, such as Harappa, whose newly booming nuclear power centers were desperate in their need for uranium.
The Hammerfest crewed two “deck” officers, the captain, Nils Anderson, and his mate; two engineers, the chief and his assistant; a chief steward and his second steward. Their time was spent largely in idleness, but they were on hand.
In spite of his youth, Venu Jhabvola was well received by them all. This was the first time they had picked up a passenger from Harappa. All of them had been on a score of worlds, but they knew little of Harappa and its institutions and had a thousand questions to ask Venu.
Venu, in turn, knew little about other Earthling-populated worlds. When there are 5,000 of these, the merest smattering about each of them is beyond even a keen student, unless his major is in interplanetary affairs. That was not Venu’s field, although as a member of the Expediters sub-caste he would very likely travel interspace, as had his father.
His favorite among the crew was the first officer, who was the ship’s navigator and second in command. He was a tall, blond man in the Norwegian tradition, blue of eye and handsome in a craggy sort of way. As a physical specimen, he was about as far as one could get from the slight and delicately featured Harappan, but he was friendly and probably the most intelligent man on the ship.
They played battle chess for long hours, their conversation covering every field in which they were both interested. Although discussing any world that First Officer Kristian Tryggvason had visited was fascinating for Venu, he was particularly interested in Medea.
It was, Kristian Tryggvason informed him, a planet belonging to a sun system that had but one other inhabited world, Tangier. For Kris’s money, Tangier was by far the more interesting of the two. He considered Medea to be on the grim side.
“In what way?” Venu asked, carefully advancing one of his tanks across the battle chess board. On Harappa, battle chess was so ardently played that they taught it in school and gave credits. However, the first officer had been forced to play the game so much to relieve spaceship tedium that they were a fairly equal match.
Tryggvason shrugged. “Technology. I don’t mind developing industry, science, industrial techniques that in the long run save labor, but I don’t want to eat, drink, and sleep technology. What their ultimate goal is, I don’t know, and I doubt if they do, but they’re heading for it under forced draft. I get tired just watching them.”
Venu frowned. “But surely they must take time to contemplate, to meditate, to commune with the gods—Brahma, the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, Siva the Destroyer.”
Kris laughed and covered the advance of Venu’s tank by moving one of his fortresses.
He said, “If they had a god, they’d mechanize him.”
Venu said in dismay, “One must not speak lightly of a god.”
Kris said, “There are gods and gods, I’ve found. Some of them deserve to be spoken lightly of.”
Venu said stiffly, “We Hindus say God is one. People just call him by different names.”
“You just mentioned the gods, not god. Brahma, Vishnu, and what was the other one?
“Siva, the Destroyer. But the three are in actuality but manifestations of the one god. You see . .
But the Norwegian shook his head. “Don’t try to tell me. I’ll just get a headache. But answer me this. A few centuries ago a colonizing ship, heading out to find a new world, crashed. The one big requirement to join this expedition was that each colonist have an I.Q. of at least 150. They figured on developing a world of super-intellects—geniuses. However, through some malfunction of their ship, it dropped out of hyperspace and cracked up on a planet far, far from the nearest Allied Worlds member. A space patrol found them recently. The crash had turned them back into a primitive society, since they had lost all of their machinery, for all practical purposes, and most of their books. So what kind of a god had evolved? Tonatiuh, the sun god of the Aztecs.”
