up on the jive just as you have.”
“I don’t believe it,” Max said bluntly.
Sam looked pained. Max went on, “What’s this all about? You ask me a bunch of silly questions—sure, I know quite a bit about spaceside; I’ve been reading about it all my life and Uncle Chet would talk by the hour. But what of it?”
Sam looked at him and said softly, “Max—the Asgard is raising next Thursday—for starside. Would you like to be in her?”
Max thought about it. To be in the fabulous Asgard, to be heading out to the stars, to be—he brushed the vision aside. “Don’t talk that way, Sam! You know I’d give my right arm. Why needle me?”
“How much money have you?”
“Huh? Why?”
“How much?”
“I haven’t even had time to count it.” Max started to haul out the wad of bills he had been given; Sam hastily and unobtrusively stopped him.
“Psst!” he protested. “Don’t flash a roll in here. Do you want to eat through a slit in your throat? Keep it down!”
Startled, Max took the advice. He was still more startled when he finished the tally; he had known that he had been given quite a lot of money but this was more than he had dreamed. “How much?” Sam persisted. Max told him, Sam swore softly. “Well, it will just have to do.”
“Do for what?”
“You’ll see. Put it away.”
As Max did so he said wonderingly, “Sam, I had no idea those books were so valuable.”
“They aren’t.”
“Huh?”
“It’s malarkey. Lots of guilds do it. They want to make it appear that their professional secrets are precious, so they make the candidate put up a wad of dough for his reference books. If those things were published in the ordinary way, they’d sell at a reasonable price.”
“But that’s right, isn’t it? As the Worthy High Secretary explained, it wouldn’t do for just anybody to have that knowledge.”
Sam made a rude noise and pretended to spit “What difference would it make? Suppose you still had them—you don’t have a ship to conn.”
“But…” Max stopped and grinned. “I can’t see that it did any good to take them away from me anyhow. I’ve read them, so I know what’s in them.”
“Sure you know. Maybe you even remember some of the methods. But you don’t have all those columns of figures so you can look up the one you need when you need it. That’s what they care about.”
“But I do! I read them, I tell you.” Max wrinkled his forehead, then began to recite: “‘Page 272, Calculated Solutions of the Differential Equation of Motion by the Ricardo Assumption—’” He began to reel off a series of seven-place figures. Sam listened in growing surprise, then stopped him.
“Kid, you really remember that? You weren’t making it up?”
“Of course not, I read it.”
“Well, I’ll be a beat up… Look, you’re a page-at-a-glance reader? Is that it?”
“No, not exactly. I’m a pretty fast reader, but I do have to read it. But I don’t forget. I never have been able to see how people forget. I can’t forget anything.”
Sam shook his head wonderingly. “I’ve been able to forget a lot of things, thank Heaven.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe we should forget the other caper and exploit this talent of yours. I can think of angles.”
“What do you mean? And what other caper?”
“Hmm…no, I was right the first time. The idea is to get away from here. And with your funny memory the chances are a whole lot better. Even though you sling the slang pretty well I was worried. Now I’m not.”
“Sam, stop talking riddles. What are you figuring on?”
“Okay, kid, I’ll lay it on the table.” He glanced around, leaned forward, and spoke even more quietly. “We take the money and I spread it around carefully. When the Asgard raises, we’re signed on as crewmen.”
“As apprentices? We wouldn’t even have time for ground school. And besides you’re too old to ’prentice.”
“Use your head! We don’t have enough to pay one
“I don’t believe it,” Max said bluntly.
Sam looked pained. Max went on, “What’s this all about? You ask me a bunch of silly questions—sure, I know quite a bit about spaceside; I’ve been reading about it all my life and Uncle Chet would talk by the hour. But what of it?”
Sam looked at him and said softly, “Max—the Asgard is raising next Thursday—for starside. Would you like to be in her?”
Max thought about it. To be in the fabulous Asgard, to be heading out to the stars, to be—he brushed the vision aside. “Don’t talk that way, Sam! You know I’d give my right arm. Why needle me?”
“How much money have you?”
“Huh? Why?”
“How much?”
“I haven’t even had time to count it.” Max started to haul out the wad of bills he had been given; Sam hastily and unobtrusively stopped him.
“Psst!” he protested. “Don’t flash a roll in here. Do you want to eat through a slit in your throat? Keep it down!”
Startled, Max took the advice. He was still more startled when he finished the tally; he had known that he had been given quite a lot of money but this was more than he had dreamed. “How much?” Sam persisted. Max told him, Sam swore softly. “Well, it will just have to do.”
“Do for what?”
“You’ll see. Put it away.”
As Max did so he said wonderingly, “Sam, I had no idea those books were so valuable.”
“They aren’t.”
“Huh?”
“It’s malarkey. Lots of guilds do it. They want to make it appear that their professional secrets are precious, so they make the candidate put up a wad of dough for his reference books. If those things were published in the ordinary way, they’d sell at a reasonable price.”
“But that’s right, isn’t it? As the Worthy High Secretary explained, it wouldn’t do for just anybody to have that knowledge.”
Sam made a rude noise and pretended to spit “What difference would it make? Suppose you still had them—you don’t have a ship to conn.”
“But…” Max stopped and grinned. “I can’t see that it did any good to take them away from me anyhow. I’ve read them, so I know what’s in them.”
“Sure you know. Maybe you even remember some of the methods. But you don’t have all those columns of figures so you can look up the one you need when you need it. That’s what they care about.”
“But I do! I read them, I tell you.” Max wrinkled his forehead, then began to recite: “‘Page 272, Calculated Solutions of the Differential Equation of Motion by the Ricardo Assumption—’” He began to reel off a series of seven-place figures. Sam listened in growing surprise, then stopped him.
“Kid, you really remember that? You weren’t making it up?”
“Of course not, I read it.”
“Well, I’ll be a beat up… Look, you’re a page-at-a-glance reader? Is that it?”
“No, not exactly. I’m a pretty fast reader, but I do have to read it. But I don’t forget. I never have been able to see how people forget. I can’t forget anything.”
Sam shook his head wonderingly. “I’ve been able to forget a lot of things, thank Heaven.” He thought for a moment. “Maybe we should forget the other caper and exploit this talent of yours. I can think of angles.”
“What do you mean? And what other caper?”
“Hmm…no, I was right the first time. The idea is to get away from here. And with your funny memory the chances are a whole lot better. Even though you sling the slang pretty well I was worried. Now I’m not.”
“Sam, stop talking riddles. What are you figuring on?”
“Okay, kid, I’ll lay it on the table.” He glanced around, leaned forward, and spoke even more quietly. “We take the money and I spread it around carefully. When the Asgard raises, we’re signed on as crewmen.”
“As apprentices? We wouldn’t even have time for ground school. And besides you’re too old to ’prentice.”
“Use your head! We don’t have enough to pay one
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