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Updated: June 19, 2025
You see, Earth's a terribly overcrowded planet and the only way to avoid cutthroat job competition is to make sure it's tough to get a job. It's rough on a starman trying to bull his way into the system." "You mean Steve may not have gotten a work card? In that case how will I be able to find him?" "It's harder," Hawkes said. "But there's also a registry of Free Status men men without cards.
He had left his copy of the work aboard the Valhalla, along with the few personal possessions he had managed to accumulate during his life as a starman. The book dealer had frowned when Alan asked for the volume under the title he knew. "The Cavour Theory? I don't think ah, wait." He vanished for perhaps five minutes and returned with an old, fragile, almost impossibly delicate-looking book.
Alan shuddered. He had seen dreamdust addicts in the advanced state withered palsied old men of forty, unable to eat, crippled, drying up and nearing death. All that for a year's pleasure! "Johnny used to be a starman," Hawkes said suddenly. "That's why I picked him for our little stunt tonight. I thought it was about time I introduced you two." Alan's eyes widened. "What ship?" "Galactic Queen.
He tossed the slip to the table and said, "Well? What do we do now?" "Now," Hawkes said, "we go upstairs to the cubbyhole where they keep the Free Status people registered. We go through the same business there. I didn't really expect to find your brother here, but it was worth a look. It's next to impossible for a ship-jumping starman to buy his way into a guild and get a work card."
Suddenly, the bell clanged and a tube rolled out of the computer shoot. Alan waited tensely while MacIntosh crossed the room again, drew out the contents of the tube, and scanned them. The fat man's face was broken by a smile. "You're in luck, starman. Your brother did register with us. Here's the 'stat of his papers." Alan looked at them.
I'll take ship atmosphere, stale as it is, any time over this smoggy soup." "I'll go along with that. Say, look a strange face!" Alan turned and saw a young starman of about his own age coming toward them. He wore a red uniform with gray trim instead of the orange-and-blue of the Valhalla. "Welcome, newcomers. I suppose you're from that ship that just put down? The Valhalla?" "Right.
I'll write it off to profit and loss. What's your name, spacer, and what brings you to York City?" "I'm Alan Donnell, of the starship Valhalla. I'm an Unspecialized Crewman. I came over from the Enclave to look for my brother." Hawkes' lean face assumed an expression of deep interest. "He's a starman too?" "He was." "Was?" "He jumped ship last time we were here. That was nine years ago Earthtime.
"Not on your life," Hawkes said. "I came up here to do some checking. Alan, this is Hines MacIntosh, Keeper of the Records. Hines, want you to meet a starman friend of mine. Alan Donnell." "Starman, eh?" MacIntosh's pudgy face went suddenly grave. "Well, boy, I hope you know how to get along on an empty stomach. Free Status life isn't easy." "No," Alan said. "You don't under " Hawkes cut him off.
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