8 THREE WAYS TO GET AHEAD

Max intended to stay awake during the first transition, but he slept through it. It took place shortly after five in the morning, ship's time. When he was awakened by idlers' reveille at six it was all over. He jerked on his clothes, fuming at not having awakened earlier, and hurried to the upper decks. The passageways above Charlie deck were silent and empty; even the early risers among the passengers would not be up for another hour. He went at once to the Bifrost Lounge and crossed it to the view port, placed there for the pleasure of passengers.

The stars looked normal but the familiar, age-old constellations were gone. Only the Milky Way, our own galaxy, seemed as usual--to that enormous spiral of stars, some hundred thousand light-years across, a tiny displacement of less than sixty light-years was inconsequential.

One extremely bright yellow-white star was visible; Max decided that it must be Theta Centauri, sun of Garson's Planet, their first stop. He left shortly, not wanting to chance being found loafing in passengers' country. The sand boxes which constituted his excuse were then replaced with greater speed than usual and he was back in crew's quarters in time for breakfast.

The passage to Garson's Planet took most of a month even at the high boost possible to Horst-Conrad ship. Eldreth continued to make daily trips to see Mr. Chips--and to talk with and play 3-dee chess with Max. He learned that while she had not been born on Hespera, but in Auckland on Terra, nevertheless Hespera was her home. "Daddy sent me back to have them turn me into a lady, but it didn't take."

"What do you mean?"

She grinned. "I'm a problem. That's why I've been sent for. You're in check, Max. Chipsie! Put that back. I think the little demon is playing on your side."

He gradually pieced together what she meant. Miss Mimsey's school had been the third from which she had been expelled. She did not like Earth, she was determined to go home, and she had created a reign of terror at each institution to which she had been entrusted. Her widower father had been determined that she must have a "proper" education, but she had been in a better strategic position to impose her will--her father's Earthside attorneys had washed their hands of her and shipped her home.

Sam made the mistake of joshing Max about Eldreth. "Have you gotten her to set the day yet, old son?"

"Who set what day?"

"Now, now! Everybody in the ship knows about it, except possibly the Captain. Why play dumb with your old pal?"

"I don't know what you are talking about!"

"I wasn't criticizing, I was admiring. I'd never have the nerve to plot so high a trajectory myself. But as grandpop always said, there are just three ways to get ahead; sweat and genius, getting born into the right family, or marrying into it. Of the three, marrying the boss's daughter is the best, because-- Hey! Take it easy!" Sam skipped back out of range.

"Take that back!"

"I do, I do. I was wrong. But my remarks were inspired by sheer admiration. Mistaken, I admit. So I apologize and withdraw the admiration."

"But ..." Max grinned in spite of himself. It was impossible to stay angry at Sam. Sure, the man was a scamp, probably a deserter, certainly a belittler who always looked at things in the meanest of terms, but-- well, there it was. Sam was his friend.

"I knew you were joking. How could I be figuring on getting married when you and I are going to ..."

"Keep your voice down." Sam went on quietly, "You've made up your mind?"

"Yes. It's the only way out, I guess. I don't want to go back to Earth."

"Good boy! You'll never regret it." Sam looked thoughtful. "We'll need money."

"Well, I'll have some on the books."

"Don't be silly. You try to draw more than spending money and they'll never let you set foot on dirt. But don't worry--save your tips, all that Fats will let you keep, and I'll get us a stake. It's my turn."

"How?"

"Lots of ways. You can forget it."

"Well ... all right. Say, Sam, just what did you mean when you--I mean, well, suppose I did want to marry Ellie--I don't of course; she's just a kid and anyhow I'm not the type to marry--but just supposing? Why should anybody care?"

Sam looked surprised. "You don't know?"

"Why would I be asking?"

"You don't know who she is?"

"Huh? Her name's Eldreth Coburn and she's on her way home to Hespera, she's a colonial. What of it?"

"You poor boy! She didn't mention that she is the only daughter of His Supreme Excellency, General Sir John FitzGerald Coburn, O.B.E., K.B., O.S.U., and probably X.Y.Z., Imperial Ambassador to Hespera and Resident Commissioner Plenipotentiary?"

"_Huh?_ Oh my gosh!"

"Catch on, kid? With the merest trifle of finesse you can be a remittance man, at least. Name your own planet, just as long as it isn't Hespera."

"Oh, go boil your head! She's a nice kid anyhow."

Sam snickered. "She sure is. As grandpop used to say, 'It's an ill wind that gathers no moss.'"

The knowledge disturbed Max. He had realized that Eldreth must be well to do--she was a passenger, wasn't she? But he had no awe of wealth. Achievement as exemplified by his uncle held much more respect in his eyes. But the notion that Eldreth came from such an impossibly high stratum--and that he, Maximilian Jones, was considered a fortune-hunter and social climber on that account--was quite upsetting.

He decided to put an end to it. He started by letting his work pile up so that he could say truthfully that he did not have time to play three-dee chess. So Ellie pitched in and helped him. While he was playing the unavoidable game that followed he attempted a direct approach. "See here, Ellie, I don't think you ought to stay down here and play three-dee chess with me. The other passengers come down to see their pets and they notice. They'll gossip."

"Pooh!"

"I mean it. Oh, you and I know it's all right, but it doesn't look right."

She stuck out her lower lip. "Am I going to have trouble with you? You talk just like Miss Mimsey."

"You can come down to see Chipsie, but you'd better come down with one of the other pet owners."

She started to make a sharp answer, then shrugged, "Okay, this isn't the most comfortable place anyhow. From now on we play in Bifrost Lounge, afternoons when your work is done and evenings."

Max protested that Mr. Giordano would not let him; she answered quickly, "Don't worry about your boss. I can twist him around my little finger." She illustrated by gesture.

The picture of the gross Mr. Gee in such a position slowed up Max's answer, but he finally managed to get out, "Ellie, crew members can't use the passenger lounge. It's ..."

"They can so. More than once, I've seen Mr. Dumont having a cup of coffee there with Captain Blaine."

"You don't understand. Mr. Dumont is almost an officer, and if the Captain wants him as his guest, well, that's the Captain's privilege."

"You'd be my guest."

"No, I wouldn't be." He tried to explain to her the strict regulation that crew members were not to associate with passengers. "The Captain would be angry if he could see us right now--not at you, at me. If he caught me in the passengers' lounge he'd kick me all the way clown to 'H' deck."

"I don't believe it."

"But ..." He shrugged. "All right. I'll come up this evening. He won't kick me, actually; that would be beneath him. He'll just send Mr. Dumont over to tell me to leave, then he'll send for me in the morning. I don't mind being fined a month's pay if that is what it takes to show you the way things are."

He could see that he had finally reached her. "Why, I think that's perfectly rotten! Everybody is equal. Everybody! That's the law."

"They are? Only from on top."