Araminta Station by Jack Vance Read Free Book Online Page A

stopped laughing and began looking around for glass eyes of their own.
    “Grandpa Swaner was a canny old bird, no question about it, and always turned a handsome profit on his deals. The Chilkes finally had to stop calling him names out of embarrassment. I was his favorite. He gave me a beautiful Atlas of the Gaean Worlds for my birthday. It was an enormous book, two feet high by three feet wide and six inches thick, with Mercator maps of all the settled worlds. Whenever Grandpa Swaner came upon an item of interesting information regarding one of these worlds he’d paste it to the back of the map. When I was sixteen he took me to Tamar, Capella Nine, aboard a Gateway Line packet. It was the first time I’d been off-world and I was never the same again.
    “Grandpa Swaner belonged to a dozen professional societies, including the Naturalist Society. I vaguely remember him telling me of a world at the end of Mircea’s Wisp which the Naturalists kept as a preserve for wild animals. I wondered if the animals appreciated what was being done for them, so that they would abstain from eating people like Grandpa Swaner. I was just an innocent kindly child. Strange to say, here I am now, still innocent and kindly, at Araminta Station.”
    “How did you happen to come here?”
    “That’s a peculiar story, and I haven’t sorted it out yet. There are two or three puzzling coincidences which are very hard to explain.”
    “How so? I’m something of a vagabond myself, and I’m interested.”
    Chilke was amused by the remark. “The story starts off sedately enough. I was working as a tour-bus operator out of Seven Cities, on John Preston’s World.” Chilke told how he became aware of “a big white-skinned lady wearing a tall black hat” who joined Chilke’s morning tour four days in succession. At last she engaged him in conversation, commenting favorably upon his amiable manner and sympathetic conduct. “It’s nothing special: just my stock-in-trade,” said Chilke modestly.
    The lady introduced herself as Madame Zigonie, a widow from Rosalia, a world to the back of the Pegasus Rectangle. After a few minutes of conversation she suggested that Chilke join her for lunch: an invitation which Chilke saw no reason to refuse.
    Madame Zigonie selected a fine restaurant where they were served an excellent lunch. During the meal she encouraged Chilke to talk of his early years on the Big Prairie and the general facts of his family background. Presently the focus of the conversation shifted and touched upon a number of various subjects. As if on sudden impulse, Madame Zigonie revealed to Chilke that she was conscious within herself of strong clairvoyant powers which she ignored only at grave risk to herself and her fortunes. “Perhaps you have wondered at my manifest interest in you,” she told Chilke. “The fact is that I must hire an overseer for my ranch, and this mysterious inner voice insisted that you were the right and proper person for the position.”
    “Interesting!” said Chilke. “I’m an old farm boy, no question as to that. I hope that your inner voice recommends a high salary.”
    “Adequately high,” said Madame Zigonie. “Shadow Valley Ranch comprises twenty-two thousand square miles with a hundred or more employees. It is a responsible post. I can offer a salary of ten thousand sols per year, along with travel and living expenses.”
    “Hm,” said Chilke. “It sounds like an important job. The proper salary would seem to be twenty thousand sols: less than a sol per square mile, which I consider a bargain.”
    Madame Zigonie said decisively: “The salary is not reckoned on that basis, since not every square mile needs careful supervision. Ten thousand sols is quite adequate. You will reside in a private bungalow, with ample room for all your belongings. It is important to be surrounded by one’s little treasures; don’t you think?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “You will find conditions quite congenial,”