Robber Baron Read online

  I don't remember a whole lot about the colonial effort, except that I went to school a lot, and had trillions of chores when I got home every afternoon. My dad worked in town - Tarkin - for the first two years, earning enough money to make sure we got our land proved. Within five years, by the time I was ten years old, there were 200,000 people in Tarkin, but we were 20 miles out, on a five-acre homestead farm. I remember trying out for the basketball team at my school, and not making it, but that's about all.

  We were a quiet, conservative family. All three of us worked the farm every day, dad helped with my homework, and so forth, and I was happy. I had a few good friends in school, and I loved our farm.

  I was a skinny kid, with scraggly brown hair, freckled skin, and flecked brown eyes. I got the hair and the brown eyes from my dad. The iris flecks and the fast metabolism came from my mom.

  I didn't fully understand why we moved away from the more populated center of human space. It seemed like there were so many more things to do and see, back on Tuf, and nothing was lacking. Back "home," my mom hadn't needed to work - she just kept the house clean, and looked after me. My dad's job had been a lot easier, physically, with much shorter hours, and a lot more money.

  On Persiphone, we all worked. There was no late night holovision show for the whole family -we were too tired for that, once the sun went down. Our nearest neighbor wasn't in a house crammed up against ours, their front door only a few feet away. They were a few hundred yard's walk down a dirt road. On Tuf, the most common way for me to get dirty was spilling food on myself. On Persiphone, I was dirty all day long from working outside.

  Yet, somehow, my parents, especially my father, were happier on our new planet home. My dad came home from work in town each day with a smile on his face, ready to work in the fields. When he went to bed at night, he slept soundly, instead of lying awake for hours, watching late night shows, trying to find sleep. There weren't nearly as many fights between my parents. I wasn't sure why they were so much happier, but I knew they were, and it translated over onto me, I guess.

  And soon, I forgot about Tuf, and Tabumb. I made new friends among the other colonists living around Tarkin, Persiphone. A mile or two down the road was another boy about my age, Norman Dester. We were in school together, and sometimes found time to play on the weekends. Norman had an older sister, and two older brothers, so he wasn't expected to work quite as hard as I was. His parents let him help out at our place on weekends sometimes, and he and I became friends. We talked of someday owning our parents' homesteads, and maybe going to new planets of our own.

  I don't know if I was happy, like my dad, but I wasn't sad. I was satisfied, and there were no emotional roller coasters for me. My parents were stable people, with good ideas about life and child-rearing. My dad had once been a very religious man, and some of that stuck with him, and carried over to me - at least the morals part. We didn't go to church as the Desters did, but my parents didn't swear, drink or smoke. My dad, in his eccentric way, taught me not to steal, start fights, or treat other people wrong. He said there wasn't anything inherently wrong with drinking, but that when people drank alcoholic beverages, their natural evil tendencies took over, and bad things seemed to happen. He said stealing was wrong, because it took the livelihood from other people.

  *

  Then my parents died. No, I'm not blaming my parents' death for my criminal career; in fact, now I'm proud of my illegal success. But I can point to that time as the turning point. I was about thirteen, and just hitting puberty, when the autodriver on the city bus my parents were riding decided to quit, and the whole contraption buried itself into Mike's Meat Market on Third Street. I was on my way home from school at the time, and so I didn't know until the next day; I just figured they were spending the night somewhere else. Even when my principal told me, the next day, that my parents were dead, I didn't really accept it.

  I was forced to accept it the day after that, when a representative from the Colonial Commission arrived at my house, I was out feeding the cows, the six-legged kind - imported from Willsworld, when I saw the shiny ground car float up to the door of my parents' house.

  "Hey there! Philipp?" A portly looking man was stepping out of the ground car, wearing a suit that may have fit him when he attended his prom, but now was decidedly not his size.

  "Maybe, What do you want, mister?" I dumped my bucket of high-protein feed into the trough, and came sauntering toward him, running a hand through my sweaty hair.

  "Um, I need to talk to you, Philipp." He seemed nervous, as if he didn't talk to kids much. Now, thinking back, I realize that he probably didn't have much chance to talk to kids. Most of his business was with adults. "Can we go inside?"

  "We can talk out here." I stopped about twenty feet away, still holding the feed bucket. "What do you want to talk about? I haven't broke no law, that I know of."

  He grinned then, as if trying to give the impression that he was friendly. "Oh, no, I don't know anything about any of that. You see, I'm from the Colonial Commission. I, uh, need to talk to you about your parents, and what happens to you." He was holding a trim briefcase, and looked as if he needed a place to set it down. I couldn't understand why he didn't just put it back in the car.

  "What happens to me? My principal says my parents died in a bus wreck the night before last. I'll miss their help, but I can run the farm by myself; I've been working out here for maybe seven years." I'm sure he had to try hard not to laugh. I probably weighed 80 pounds or less, and I was wearing nothing but my work shorts, my skinny ribs and arms just dangling around in odd directions.

  "Yes, Philipp, your parents were in that bus, and they are dead. But you can't run this farm by yourself. It's against the Commission's rules to let a boy like you live out here without supervision. We need to find any of your relatives that may be living, or someone else that can take care of you, okay?"

  I hoped he really didn't think it would be that easy. "Mister, you work for the Commission?"

  "Eh? Why, yes. Yes, I do, and-"

  "Is the Commission the same thing as the Government?" I knew it wasn't, we had a pretty decent school system in Tarkin, even if it wasn't quite what they have on Tuf. But I was trying in my adolescent way to make a point.

  "Well, for this planet, yes. The Colonial Commission is all you have for government, except for the provisional city government in Tarkin. That is, until the people of Persiphone set up their own government." He shifted his briefcase to his other hand. "And the Commission has rules, you know. You have to be at least eighteen to be a colonist, unless you're with your parents. And your parents aren't with you anymore, so you can't be a colonist. Do you understand that?" I could see that he was starting to sweat, and perhaps getting a little bit frustrated.

  "But I was with my parents when I came out here, and now I'm not a colonist anymore; I'm a resident. We proved our farm for five years, just like the rules say to. This land has been ours and just ours for more than two years. Now it's my farm."

  He didn't quite roll his eyes then, but I bet he wanted to. "Look here, Philipp, I'm sorry about all that. But there is no such thing as a resident here. Until Persiphone has her own government, you're all colonists. And you're not old enough to be here by yourself."

  "I'm not by myself, mister. I've got all those people in Tarkin, just a few miles away, all the kids at school, my bus driver Mr. Jonessy, and my neighbors. I'll get along just fine. Do you mind if I get along with my chores now?"

  He looked around, as if making sure no one could see his embarrassment. Like the time I stumbled off the edge of a sidewalk in the city; the first thing I did was to look up and see if anyone had seen me fall. "Now see here, young man. I'm trying to explain that you can't stay here. I'm trying to be polite about this, man to man, you see. But I have a job to do, and that job includes finding you a new home. A home with someone who can look after you. You CAN'T .. stay here. Okay?"

  "I want to see your manager." I had heard my mother say that
once, when she was having a problem with a clerk in a store in Tarkin. After twenty minutes of turning red and threatening to take her business elsewhere, the manager had fixed her problem, whatever it was. I was hoping it would work here.

  "What! Now, look. I am the manager. I came out here myself, since-"

  "You mean you're in charge of the whole Colonial Commission? Wow! I thought you'd have a nicer car."

  He was really turning red. "No, Philipp, I'm not the President of the Company. But I am the representative in charge of this planet. Look, if you don't want to leave this planet, maybe I can find someone around here that will adopt you or something. But I do have to do something about this."

  "If you're not in charge of the Commission, then I want to speak with your boss. I don't know what you call him, but that's who I want to speak to. Now I'm going back to work." I turned around and headed for the barn, carrying the feed bucket with me. At the barn door, I turned around and saw his car speed away, heading back toward Tarkin.

  As soon as he was out of sight, I collapsed on the ground inside the barn, and began crying. I don't know how I'd held out until then, with a straight face, but to this day, I'm proud of the ability to hold in my emotions when I needed to. I sobbed for at least thirty minutes, thinking about how I'd never see my dad and mom again, and how the Commission was going to take my farm away.

  Finally, I pulled myself together, and fed the other animals, then went into the house, and started cooking dinner. The night before had been the first full meal I'd ever cooked by myself, although I'd helped mom plenty. This time, I just warmed up my leftovers from that first meal. I had some chicken and noodle casserole, with homemade rolls, green beans, and carrots. Then some homemade ice cream for dessert.

  As I was cleaning up the dishes, I began to cry again. I knew I had been bluffing to that man; there was no way I could run the farm by myself. Oh, I could keep the animals fed and watered, and I could cook and clean house, and even tend to the small vegetable garden next to the house, all while going to school. But there was no way I could tend to the tobacco plot, the corn plot, and the wheat plot, all by myself, not while doing the other things. I went to sleep curled up in Dad's big chair, with the tear stains still on my face.

  .The next morning at school, I was busy scrambling my way through a math test, when a student aide from the principal's office showed up and handed my teacher a note. My teacher grunted, then told me that I should go with the aide, back to the principal's office. I asked what about my test, and he said if I didn't have time to finish it when I got back, I could finish it the next day.

  To my surprise, that "Planetary Representative of the Colonial Commission" was sitting in the principal's office. My principal said, "Philipp, this is Harry Bates. He's here to try to talk to you again. I hope you're not still mad at him; it was my suggestion to send him to your house. I thought that would be better for you; But he does need to talk to you. Will you sit down?"

  I sat down, trying hard not to cry again. My dad used to say, "I don't see nothing wrong with a man crying, but he shouldn't do it in front of other people, unless he's at a funeral or a church, if you're into that sort of nonsense. " I could hear him now, whispering in my ear, "Don't cry, Philipp. Don't let these men see that you're weak."

  Bates started out, speaking softly and slowly. "Philipp, I really am sorry about yesterday. I hope you will at least be patient with me this time, and listen to what I have to say. I know you don't want to leave Persiphone, and maybe you won't. have to. But I do need you to listen. Okay?"

  "I'll listen, Mister Bates, but can I say something first? It won't take long."

  Maybe he could see by how wide my eyes were that I was trying not to cry. "All right, Philipp. It's only fair for me to listen, since that's what I'm asking you to do. Go ahead."

  I sat up a little straighter, ran a shaky hand through my mop of hair, and cleared my throat. "I was wrong, Mr. Bates. I can't run that farm by myself. I can feed the animals, and take care of the garden and the house, but not the three acres of crops by myself. It's just that I don't know what else to do. I can't remember Tuf; I wasn't even five when we left there, and I've been here ever since. I've been farming, cooking, and building ever since I can remember. If you have to appoint a guardian, could it be someone here on Persiphone, so I could do what I know how to do?"

  Mr. Bates looked up at my principal, then back at me. "Well, Philipp, that's what I'm trying to work out. But I have to think about that, okay?" I nodded. "And now, I have some things to run by you, all right?"

  I nodded again, and he went on, "I'm glad you've admitted you can't run that farm. I mean, I'm sure you could if you weren't in school, but you need to go to school. The rules are a little complicated here, but basically what we need to do is sell all of your parents' property, and put the money in a trust fund that will be yours when you turn eighteen. And whoever becomes your guardian will be authorized to take money out of the fund if they need it to take care of you. Besides that, all colonists with children are required to take out an insurance policy, in case something like this happens. The policy your parents bought amounts to about 30,000 Colonial Credits, which converts to about 40,000 newdollars back home.

  "I know that seems like a lot of money to you, so in case you don't know what it means, I'll try to explain. It's enough to buy a pretty decent house or three nice cars on a stuffy planet like Tuf. Out here, it would buy you a nice plot, and some nice equipment to work it with. Added to what you'll have from selling your farm and animals, you'll do okay when you turn 18.

  "But back to the matter of a guardian. The rules say I'm supposed to send you back to your nearest living relative. According to your parents' applications, that means your grandparents, in Nubase, back at Tuf." He held up his hands to ward off my interruption. "Now hang on a minute, Philipp, I'm not done yet. In order to get you a guardian out here, I'll have to write to your grandparents for permission. And someone will have to find them, if they've moved. It would help your cause, I'm sure, if you'd write them a letter too. If by some chance your grandparents are no longer alive, or can't be found, we'll have to search for other relatives. This could take a long time, if your grandparents don't reply immediately.

  "So here's what I'm willing to do..."

  *

  As it worked out, I let Mr. Bates make himself my temporary guardian, and he let me keep my house. I sold the three worked acres to three different neighbors, with one of Bates' assistants handling the sales part, and the paperwork. Since the land was already worked, and had crops growing on it, I sold it for five hundred colonial credits (cc500) per acre, except for the tobacco acre; it went for cc750, since the market for tobacco was going back up. The neighbors were going to make payments, with interest, but the initial sale amount came to cc 1750. That's over 2300 newdollars, enough for a beat-up, used ground car, most places. But out on the colony worlds, ground cars were very scarce, and even a used economy car would cost more than that, for a while. But with interest, after two years of payments, the total of the land sale came to around 4500 newdollars - or 3423 Colonial credits (since I financed it myself - or rather, Mr. Bates' assistant did. After his fee, I would get about 3,000 newdollars for the sale.)

  Financial dealings were way too complicated for me back then, and still are. Maybe that's when I decided, subconsciously, that the best way to live would be to have so much money that it didn't matter how many fees and how much interest you had to pay.

  Anyway, the 3,000nd went in my trust fund with the 40,000nd from my parents' insurance policy, where they would slowly accrue interest until my eighteenth birthday. I figured that even if I didn't sell anything else, and with the interest accruing yearly, I would end up with about 52,500nd, when I turned eighteen. But I had been figuring the interest at about 4%. Mr. Bates told me later that I would only get maybe 3%, but that it would accrue monthly. That made it more complicated, but he assured me that the end total would be higher that way.

  I kep
t the cows, pigs, chickens, and turkeys for the time being, and the two acres they were on, with the house and the barn.

  I wrote a letter to my grandparents, telling them that I didn't want to go back - no offense to them, please - but I liked Persiphone. I asked them to tell the Commission to let me stay, and to appoint a guardian for me.

  A month later, Mr. Bates showed me a letter from the Nubase Colonial Commission office, saying they had found a death certificate for my grandmother; she had died six months after we had shipped out, nearly seven years before. And my grandfather had moved, so they were trying to track him down.

  Two.

  The Colonial Commission's search for my grandfather was hindered by several things, the least of which was my grandfather's elusive nature and unwillingness to be reached. Not only had the Commission recently approved four new planets for colonization, taking up a lot of their time, but also the Separation was still in effect. It is hard to track people from planet to planet, when the governments of the planets involved are at odds with each other.

  Now, someone reading this may live at a time when it is the normal state of affairs for planets and solar systems to be divided in their governments much like they were when I was very young. But for four hundred years or so, nearly all of the planets colonized by humans were under the same government, first under FUZ (Forces Under Zarcon), then under the People's Ruling Council, and later under the dubiously titled "Federation of Species." That first Federation had initially set up the Colonial Commission as a branch of the Federal government, to test and process all applicants for emigration, and to set up provisional planetary governments. This gave the Commission a lot of power, and the Federation continuously had to keep an eye on the goings on inside their offices.